Chapter 5
If there was one thing that everyone could agree that Starfleet still did well, it was the pomp of a formal banquet. The organization's Public Relations department found a few reasons to hold one each year, but the Annual Admiral's Ball was the centerpiece of those events. Held in Starfleet HQ's grand ballroom, the occasion was attended by officers, diplomats, and politicians. It was an opportunity for networking and boasting, to be seen and commended, and for most of the officers that would rather be anywhere else it was a damned inconvenience.
Attendance could not be mandated, but for the majority of Starfleet's brass attendance was highly recommended. With the looming promise of the Romulan Diplomatic mission, everyone who had been assigned to the taskforce with three pips or more had been requested to attend. The crews assigned to the taskforce were deploying in less than a week, and this was a chance for the Brass and politicians not directly involved to get their piece of that opportunity, and for the Public Relations department to sell the upcoming mission as Starfleet's first major engagement in getting back to the Federation's pre-war principles of cooperation and peace.
Admiral Janeway would have liked to be anywhere else. The Delta Quadrant was even looking like a suitable escape plan. Her face was beginning to ache from the polite, forced smile that she had worn for most of the evening. Admirals and politicians that she barely knew, but whom she had to tolerate nonetheless, had been vying for her attention throughout the course of the event. It was one of the tasks of her new job that she didn't particularly enjoy. It didn't help that she wasn't especially in the mood for socializing.
In all fairness, the night hadn't started out that way. While she didn't exactly look forward to the ball, Kathryn had filed her participation away as a necessary function of her profession, and intended to greet it with the same efficiency, if not enthusiasm, that she applied to the rest of her work.
She was initially tempted to conveniently ignore the suggestion that she arrive in something other than her uniform, but she decided that she couldn't disagree with Commander Troi's assessment of how rare it was that any of them had the opportunity to wear something that was not their uniforms, and allowed them to interject just a little of their own unique individuality into Starfleet's almost sterile aesthetics. While it didn't exactly give her any further reason to enjoy the evening, she had felt at least a little optimistic about it.
That optimism was gone now.
While Kathryn had not dressed with anything in mind but her own preferences, she was well aware that she would not be entirely displeasing to look at. She would also admit to the fact that the thought had crossed her mind, however briefly, that there might be one other person who would enjoy her appearance. It was brushed aside, of course, because that was not the purpose of the evening, but the thought was there. Kathryn admitted, too, that she looked forward to seeing him. She knew that Chakotay would arrive in uniform, and if she was honest with herself, she was looking forward to that too. The new style of dress uniform suited him. The white would offset his bronzed complexion, and the outline of the jacket would highlight his broad shoulders.
That they simply had not been able to steal away for a few minutes, or finally have that dinner they kept rescheduling, was another reason that she was almost looking forward to the evening. It was possible that they might just be able to sneak away, and with most of the people who had been the cause for their hectic schedules in one location, it was less likely that they would be interrupted this time.
She was a little surprised that Chakotay had not contacted her before the ball, as in the past he would have asked to be her escort for the evening. That was how they had always handled these kinds of situations aboard Voyager, but then, Kathryn had to remind herself that was as much a part of the problem as it could be any sort of solution. They weren't on Voyager anymore, at least she wasn't. Her surprise quickly gave way to dismay, though, when upon arriving she had learned that his silence had another reason.
Chakotay had found another date.
Kathryn chided herself for feeling that way. It wasn't as if there was really a them; there never had been. Chakotay continued to make that readily apparent. First there had been his relationship with Seven, and whatever he had been up to in the months since that ended, she couldn't say, but she believed his insistence to spend time with her might have been an indication that it was time to finally approach the subject of them in their post Delta Quadrant life. It seemed that she was wrong about that, and maybe it was only their friendship that he was trying to get back on track, or perhaps he had just gotten tired of trying, again. His persistence was a bit waning if this was his reaction to a few rescheduled attempts at spending time together.
Not that she could blame him, really. Captain Eva Caldwell was a beautiful woman. She was bright, tenacious, and Kathryn had enjoyed both her wit and intelligence during the pre-mission briefings of the past few weeks. She had the innovative thinking that would take her further than a Captain's rank, if that was her ambition, and the dedication to her duty that would keep her ship and crew, and the Federation that she was serving, safe. She did not blindly follow, nor was she insubordinate. She was an excellent addition to their taskforce. Captain Grant had scheduled his own briefings during the course of their planning, and it had not surprised Kathryn to learn that Chakotay and Caldwell had found a quick camaraderie. The younger woman was damned likeable, and that just made it all the more unsettling to see them together.
Caldwell was his equal, and on that particular night she was also stunning. She was of medium height, but she had a lean form, and the simple white gown she was wearing contrasted beautifully with her ebony complexion. Standing next to Chakotay, who looked just as handsome in his dress uniform as Kathryn had expected he would, the pair made a striking couple. Not that their appearance together necessarily meant anything of the sort, but they certainly appeared to be friendly.
Kathryn decided that must be par for the course for her. Her professional life was going wonderfully, she was delighted with where it seemed to be heading; it was her personal life that was another matter. She was not a woman that specifically needed to have a busy social calendar, and truthfully, she preferred to have a small group of close friends rather than to be pulled in many directions by people she barely knew. Nor had she ever needed a partner to feel as if her life was complete. It was something that she had wanted, once, and wouldn't object to now that she felt as if she was free to pursue such an avenue. That just didn't seem to be where her life was headed. She could be content with that, she truly could.
She just thought it might be time for something more. She began to wonder if her annoyance with Chakotay about certain personal decisions he made might mean that she was finally ready to consider other ways in which they might be closer. She wouldn't deny that it was disheartening to find him otherwise occupied. Maybe they just had the worst timing of any two people she had ever known. Maybe he was just comfortable. There was a time when she thought he had the power to turn her life upside down and inside out, and she had longed for the opportunity to test that theory. She really only felt that way once, and she had no romantic notions of life being built on the basis of individuals having only one great love in their time.
While Kathryn was trying to convince herself that she wasn't jealous, but merely disappointed, the party continued. She mingled, she smiled, and she made the small talk that was expected of her. At the first opportunity to find a glass of something appropriately alcoholic, she took it. With a glass of wine in her hand and her feet aching in the ill-advised heels she had worn with her dress, Kathryn found a corner and tried to give herself a moment of respite.
"Oh no," a voice interrupted her quiet musings. "This is the Admiral's Ball," he told her. "You're the Admiral. You have to look pleased as punch while the rest of us mere mortals get to look absolutely miserable. You don't get to look like you're waiting for a Borg invasion to sweep in and rescue you from the tedium." Jake Paris dropped himself into a chair beside her at the out of the way table she had located in a corner of the ballroom, and slumped in it. Despite the crisp white lines of his uniform he looked decidedly non Captain-like in that moment.
She snorted at him. "That might be overstating it just a bit. A nice, civilized, alien rebellion of some kind would probably do the job too. There's no reason to be melodramatic about it." She saw Admiral Hayes look in her direction and he seemed as if he was about to head that way and she groaned. "On second thought…"
"God no, not Hayes." Jake sat forward in his chair suddenly. He propped an elbow on the table and leaned close to her. He pitched his voice low. "Pretend we are having the most intense discussion of your life." He caught and held her gaze. "Don't look away, whatever you do. I need you to act like you are hanging on every word that I am saying right now, as if the very fabric of the universe is at stake, because it might be. If that man catches us now, there's no way that either of us is getting out of here for at least another two hours, and by god Kathryn Janeway if I have to hear about that man's latest attempt at making a Bolian soufflé, I am going to hold you personally responsible."
"His discussion of the Bolian soufflé is nothing compared to his attempts at recreating the recipes that Neelix left in the Voyager database. I can tell you right now," she stared back at him, her gaze unwavering, determined, despite her sudden amusement, "there has never been a more intense conversation in my life than the one we are having right now. If he corners us with questions about hair pasta and leola root, I will not be held responsible for my actions."
"I'm so glad we're agreed, but I don't think Hayes is getting the hint. How badly are your feet hurting?" It was time for evasive maneuvers, and he would sacrifice her on the altar of his own conversational self-preservation.
"What makes you think my feet are hurting?" She arched a brow at him, challenging his assumption. They were, actually, but that was incredibly presumptive of him. Over the past couple of weeks, however, as she had gotten to know him better, she had learned that Jake was not put off by her rank in the least. He was respectful, of course, and he followed her orders, but he did not demure to her. That was something that she had missed with the officers that surrounded her now. His insight into the Romulan situation was also unmatched. The man had a keen analytical mind, and his instincts were as good as any she had ever encountered. Nechayev was right to get him back on the bridge of a starship. It was where he was needed. She also knew that he was finally settling in on Aegeus, and getting to know his new crew. By the time they shipped out in a matter of days, he would be ready. On the whole, she just liked working with him. He was a good fit to the taskforce.
"I have eyes," Jake replied, and his mouth twisted into a smirk. His eyes sparkled knowingly at her. "I saw those heels and they're completely ridiculous. Don't get me wrong, you wear them well, but just looking at them made my feet hurt." While he had been looking at her feet, he had also noticed the rest of her attire. The black gown was simple, but elegant. It looked as if it had been cut just to fit her, and for all he knew about women's fashion, it might have been. The simple halter bodice had revealed pale shoulders with a light dusting of freckles, and he had to admit that he had wondered just how much of the rest of her was covered in those enticing little spots. He was a man, and she was a beautiful woman, so he wasn't going to feel guilty about that. She was also funny, smart, and damn but she was a firebrand, as his dad would have said. She was also his uncle's protégé; his cousin couldn't sing her praises loud enough, and if that wasn't enough to stop him from having thoughts of pursuing her, he had been hearing stories that she might not be available. Jake knew he might be a fool about a lot of things, but he wasn't a stupid fool. He wasn't going to put his ass on the line without doing a bit of his own research. Tales of the conquering Delta Quadrant heroine aside, he wanted to get to the truth of it all. Starfleet could spin a pretty story when it wanted to, that didn't mean it was true.
He believed what his cousin told him, however. If Tom's version of events wasn't enough, that wife of his didn't exactly mince words. He could understand why his cousin was so devoted to her, and how easily she had captured the rapt attention of his aunt and uncle. It also helped that she was an engineer. In Jake's experience, engineers didn't have time for tall tales. What B'Elanna Torres had, though, was a healthy dose of respect for the woman that had saved her life more times than she could count. It wasn't built on hero worship, as she was candid about the woman's flaws too, but she would follow her into hell, had done so, and would do it again.
While Tom and B'Elanna were in the mood for sharing, he asked about the undercurrent of tension he picked up between the Admiral and her former first officer. On that subject they were both a little more hesitant, but B'Elanna had finally admitted that there might have been something, once, but whatever it might have been was over. It had given Jake a foundation for forming his own opinions.
During the couple of weeks leading up to the Admiral's Ball, and through the evening of the actual event, he had picked up on something between the pair. He couldn't put his finger on what, but the fact that Captain Chakotay had shown up with a date that was not the Admiral was enough to tell him that B'Elanna might be right. The Admiral was good, he'd grant her that, but she hadn't fully managed to hide the dismayed look on her face the first few times she had seen them together.
Jake still hadn't decided if he wanted to involve himself in the situation, but he was getting closer to a decision all the time.
Something in his gaze had shifted, and his eyes had darkened. Kathryn watched his eyes drop and felt the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand up, while a tingling sensation of awareness moved down her spine. She wasn't so far removed from simple, basic human interaction that she didn't know when another person was noticing her. Jake's eyes rose from checking out the rest of her attire to meet her gaze again. She saw his chin tilt, almost defiantly when he caught her studying him in return. The challenge in it couldn't be denied, or ignored. "What are you proposing, Captain?"
"Evasive maneuvers, Admiral." He took her hand and stood up. He gave it a light tug and jerked his head toward the dance floor. "He'll never get to us there, too many people to stop and talk to. Think your fancy shoes can handle it?"
"I'll take them off if I have to, propriety be damned." Kathryn took a final sip of her wine before abandoning the glass with the table and following him.
"I've been hearing that you're able to think on your feet," Jake quipped, "I'm glad to know that isn't just a euphemism for something else." He walked them toward the dance floor in a wide berth around Hayes, and on a path that took them directly past his uncle, whom he winked at for the hell of it. Then Jacob pulled her to him and turned them into the moving bodies with the ease of two people who might have been dancing together all their lives… if they hadn't only just met.
When they moved together, his hand against her back, high enough to present a picture of proper decorum, but with his fingers spread unabashedly against the bare skin above the moderately conservative hem of her dress, Kathryn was unable to deny the fact that he was not being entirely altruistic about their method of escape. At the feel of his thumb stroking the soft skin between her shoulder blades, her head tilted. "It's nice to know that you haven't completely forgotten all your advanced tactical training while you were out there on that starbase, but I think you're a little rusty, Captain."
"Really?" His eyes gleamed in the overhead lights, and while her tone had turned suitably ambiguous for their surroundings, the amusement in her gaze was undeniable for someone who had taken the time to learn to read the signs. Jake grinned in response. "At ease, Admiral. There are plenty of people watching and they might decide you need a new partner. I heard Admiral Hayes loves a good waltz."
His hand was warm, and not entirely unpleasant. "It's funny you should mention that," there was velvet in her low tone. "I've heard the same thing about Admiral Nechayev." Kathryn laughed at his sharp glare. "You started it, Captain. I was only returning fire."
"It was a warning shot across your starboard bow." Jake huffed. "That was a completely inappropriate and excessive use of force. Frankly, I'm wounded." To prove that point, his thumb stroked her skin again. He was right about her eyes reflecting her changing moods, Jake decided. As close as they stood together, he was able to see that the gray that usually indicated amusement reminded him of the ocean, not the deep blue, idyllic hues of an island paradise, but the way the it looked just after a storm, raw and wild.
"Careful, Captain. You're drifting hard to port." Her fingers tightened against his shoulder for a moment. Kathryn risked a glance at their surroundings, they were being watched as he suggested. "You realize, don't you, that you've earned us both an interrogation?"
Jake turned them, ever so slightly, so he could follow her line of sight. "Yes, I think you're going to have some explaining to do. I'm used to it, remember? That old curmudgeon is going to be more concerned that I'm being a bad influence."
She laughed. "You're terrible." Kathryn decided three days after they met that he was fond of the curmudgeonly old mule. He and Owen gave each other a hard time, but there was no real malice in any of it. Kathryn had noted that Owen looked a little nostalgic, the one time that she had been alone with the two men, and wondered that he must see a lot of his younger brother in Jake. "I'm also insulted that you think you could ever unduly influence my good sense."
They stopped dancing and Jake bent his head closer. He met her gaze with a deep, unwavering look. "I'm thinking of a particular encounter with the Borg in which you showed the absolute opposite of good sense, I don't think that argument is going to fly, Admiral."
"Your engines have stalled, Chief." She took a half step closer, and while they were still decently separated, the idea of personal space became moot. "You might want to recalibrate those thrusters before the enemy overtakes your position."
He pulled her back into the sway and tempo of the music. "Have I mentioned yet that I love it when you talk starship to me?" Her laugh echoed behind them as he maneuvered her through the moving bodies.
It took two songs for them to make their way across the dance floor, to the opposite side of the ballroom. Once they were free of the moving bodies, Jake let her go. He kept a hand on the small of her back, though, and guided her through a group of tables. At the edge of the room, he stopped. He extended an arm toward a set of doors that opened to the terrace, and beyond that, the well-manicured grounds of the Jefferson garden. "Your evacuation route, Admiral."
"Remind me to log a commendation on your record, Captain. That was a creative solution to a dire situation. Well done." She inclined her head at him when she took a step toward the doors, but he didn't follow. "Captain?"
"If we leave together, people will talk." His eyes sparkled teasingly. "Go ahead, but meet me at the north fountain. I shouldn't be more than about ten minutes." He didn't care about wagging tongues, and he got the impression that she didn't either, but the evening had finally taken an enjoyable turn and he wasn't going to give up the game yet.
"I see." She smirked. "As you were," she added with a nod. Kathryn strolled toward the doors, but as she pushed through them to make good her escape, she cast a look back at him from over her shoulder. When he bent slightly, hinting a gallant bow, and tossed off a playful salute, she snorted a quiet laugh, and with a shake of her head, slipped out of the room.
More than one pair of eyes had seen the movement of the pair across the dance floor, and then noticed that both individuals had disappeared from sight at roughly the same moment. After they moved out of sight, looking nothing if not fully engrossed in one another, Admiral Paris turned to the man beside him with an expression of such consternation that the waiter standing nearby with a tray of drinks quickly retreated.
Tom shrugged in response, unperturbed by his father's change in mood. "Don't look at me, you spend more time with both of them than I do. If you tell me this has been developing right under your nose, and you never noticed," he grinned, "I'm going to have to rethink every opinion I've ever had of you."
"Yes, well." Owen straightened and tugged at the jacket of his dress uniform. "I'm not privy to the personal lives of my colleagues," he announced. He was still obviously perplexed, however. "I just thought Kathryn was… otherwise occupied, that's all." They didn't discuss matters of that nature, although usually in the past she might have hinted at something.
"Really?" Tom's head tipped to one side inquisitively. He hadn't heard that she was seeing anyone, and thought surely the rumors of that would have reached his ears already. The only person he could think of that might be orbiting in the Admiral's personal sphere appeared to have found his interests cast elsewhere. Tom's eyes widened suddenly and he stared incredulously at his father. "You bought into the rumors, didn't you?" He shook his head, both surprised and delighted. "Dad." Tom clapped him on the shoulder and turned them slightly. "Trust me when I say, that's not happening." Directly in their line of sight now were his Captain and the woman who had been holding his attention throughout the evening. "Don't get me wrong, there was a time when I thought it did, or at least they were close to getting there, but the Admiral is a free agent."
Owen's brows drew together. "That is surprising." He knew his protégé was feeling adrift earlier in the year. He thought her discomfiture might have a certain personal component, and when she appeared more at ease, and truthfully, happier than when she first arrived home, Owen believed the situation to be resolved. Apparently whatever that resolution might be it was nothing that he expected. "It may not be as astonishing as I initially believed," the Admiral realized. When he considered what he knew of his nephew, if their perceptions of the evening were correct, it was entirely probable that Kathryn had identified something familiar in him. Owen shook his head. "I'm not going to think about it anymore." Those were thoughts that he didn't need or want. He glanced at his son. "If she ever asks…"
"We never had this conversation," Tom immediately agreed. The two men shared a look and then they both nodded and went their separate ways, each in search of their respective spouses.
Several tables away one of the topics of their discussion was not as engrossed in his date as the two had believed. While a lovely enough time was had with the alluring Eva Caldwell, Chakotay's attention was diverted the moment a familiar head had passed the periphery of his sight. He had seen Kathryn a few times during the course of the night, and they had even spoken briefly earlier, just after both of them had arrived. She was stunning in the long, form-fitting gown. Against the black material, that seemed to shimmer in the overhead lights when she moved, her pale complexion had appeared to glow.
Her hair, longer now than it had been at the end of their journey, was drawn back in a loose knot behind her neck. On those occasions he was able to get a glimpse of her without appearing obvious in his scrutiny, he had noticed the russet wisps that were left free to frame her face and neck. He had imagined following the trail of them against the elegant curve of her neck with his fingers and had to pull his focus away from her. He placed his attention back, fully, on Eva, and every time she laughed he was reminded why he asked her to attend with him that evening.
She was witty and open, with none of the baggage that he and Kathryn carried after seven years. They were already working well together, although Chakotay had a feeling that Eva would steal Lieutenant Kim from him if she thought the younger officer would be willing to transfer. She was proud of her ship, the Akira-class Cerberus that was only slightly bigger than Voyager, and her eyes lit up when she talked about it in a way that, if he was honest about it, reminded him of Kathryn at the beginning of their journey in the Delta Quadrant. They had shared a meal together, just a few days before, and Chakotay could admit that his invitation of attending the Ball together was a little spur of the moment, but he was captivated by her easy manner. That she was also a striking beauty did not detract from his reasons.
As his hand moved to her lower back as they stood closer to one another, and he pretended to be focused on every word of the story she was telling him about having grown up on the planet Deneva to parents who were artists, Chakotay thought about the contrasts between the two women again. There had been no opportunity to speak to Kathryn alone for the last several days. Since Voyager's return from Vulcan she had been busy, occupied he realized now, by other matters.
Maybe it was time that he gave up on the idea of her for well and good. If the two of them couldn't get on the same page about anything that wasn't mission related, that had to be a sign, didn't it? The only problem was that he had not expected the image of her, laughing as she had, in the arms of another man, to fill him with such bitter jealousy. It was ridiculous, he knew. If he had wanted to spend the evening with Kathryn he should have just asked her. He had asked Eva instead, and he didn't regret that, not entirely.
Chakotay tried to keep that in mind, especially when on a simple survey of the room, he caught Kathryn slipping out one of the exits on the other side of the dance floor, but not before he saw her cast the same coy, radiant smile she used to bestow on him. He forced his jaw not to clench. All of the attention she was now directing at Captain Paris used to be reserved for him. He was finding it difficult to come to terms with that. From the way she touched the other man's shoulder during a briefing, to how they stood together as they addressed the taskforce. That used to be him, he thought. Chakotay wondered what had occurred while he was on his way to Vulcan, and if it would have been any different had he not canceled dinner that evening.
Would he always have unanswered questions where Kathryn was concerned?
At the moment, however, Eva was leaning toward him and he was drawn back into the dark depths of her almond shaped eyes. His attention shifted again and he pushed the images in his mind of pale skin and reddish gold hair aside.
"Why do I think," Will Riker's voice was low, and pitched toward the shell of his wife's lovely ears as he leaned against her back and let his arms slide loosely around her waist, "that you are still not going to tell me what it is that keeps putting that little frown on your face?"
"Because you would be absolutely correct," she smiled as she settled back against him. Her arms settled over his, and she stood like that for only a moment before she turned. Deanna laid a hand against the crisp white front of his uniform and let her fingers trail along the thin, gold, brocade piping that offset the jacket's plainness. "It's still complicated, as human emotions often are. I'm still not convinced it has anything to do with us." He was curious though, but underneath that she felt a deep well of concern. Deanna smiled gently at him. "Consider for a moment how you might have felt a few years ago, when we decided to explore certain opportunities again," she angled her head to the side and let her gaze drift in the direction of the emotions she had sensed earlier, "If those opportunities had stalled, and then in the absence of any forward movement, I had decided to move on with my life." She shook her head at him. "We learned, maybe the hard way, relationships do not evolve without intent. In fifteen years of serving together nothing happened until we decided that it should."
"It's personal," he said, repeating what she told him earlier in the week. Will nodded. "I'll mind my own business, for now." He took her hand and held it in his. "What I don't want to do is end up in Romulan space with all our backs against the wall while someone is having a jealous snit." His thumb swept over the soft, elegant lines of her fingers. "Although from what you described, there may not be a chance for that."
"Exactly." She turned her hand over in his and laced their fingers together. "Each of the involved parties will be on a separate ship, in a separate section of the Neutral Zone. I'm not concerned at this time, if that changes, Captain Riker, then I am certain Counselor Troi will tell you. Until then, your wife is thinking that we have put in enough of an appearance this evening."
"By all means," a grin lit his face. His eyes crinkled, and their blue depths sparkled happily. "I make it a habit to always follow her recommendations. Would you like to join me for a walk? I think there's a quiet place to call for a transport home not too far from here."
"That is the best news I've heard since we arrived this evening." She graced him with a dazzling smile and when he pulled her hand through the crook of his arm, she leaned against his side. Together they walked away from the press of bodies and emotions to the promise of a quiet, peaceful conclusion to the evening.
It was a cool night. Kathryn looked up as she strolled through the garden, in no hurry now that she was free of the crowded ballroom, and was delighted that they'd managed a clear night. They had entirely too few of them this time of year, and a layer of fog was usually obscuring the night sky. Kathryn drew a deep breath and let it out on a long sigh. She missed the stars. Soon, she promised herself, she would be back among them, even if it was only temporary.
When she reached the fountain she sat on the low granite ledge. Kathryn folded her arms around herself to ward off the cool night air and enjoyed the quiet. In the distance she could hear the soft strains of the music that was playing in the ballroom, but she was far enough away from it to finally be able to enjoy the evening. Unable to bear the ache any longer, she reached down and tugged at her shoes. A sigh of abject relief was wrought from her when her toes were finally free to stretch and curl. Kathryn hummed quietly, and hunched over her knees, she rubbed first one foot and then the other.
"I thought you said they didn't hurt," the quiet admonishment came from in front of her.
She looked up and met Jake's gaze as he approached. There was something draped over his arm and it obscured what he was carrying. "I don't recall actually answering the question," she replied.
"That's a fair point. Luckily we won't need to walk where we're going." He held out a hand, palm up, and tilted his head at her. "Think you can trust me?"
Her lips pursed while she considered that. "Well, you did hold up your end of the bargain. I suppose it wouldn't be very nice of me to start questioning your methods now. Are you going to tell me where we're going?"
"That defeats the purpose of asking you to trust me," he replied, "don't you think?" Jake arched a brow at her. "Well?"
Kathryn scooped up the straps of her heels with one hand and placed her other in his. She stood slowly, and although her feet still tensed uncomfortably, they no longer ached as keenly as they had. "Very well, Captain. I am willing to grant you some leeway."
"That is decidedly judicious of you, Admiral. I am impressed by your adaptability." He tugged her closer to him.
She snorted. "How sensible it is, or not, still remains to be seen. I'm going to reserve judgment on that."
"We'll see." He let go of her hand to tap his combadge. "Paris to Aegeus, two to transport." They dematerialized in a shimmering glow of blue and white light, only to appear again a moment later atop a grassy ridge on the other side of the bay, in the preserved wilderness that was Golden Gate National Reserve. From where they stood they could see the lights of the bridge, the flashing beacons of the bay, and in the distance, the glittering lights of the city. It was laid out before them in a glowing, sloping display of life. Overhead they had the moonlight and the stars to light the area around them. Jacob took the light blanket he had discreetly replicated and shook it out. He spread it carefully on the ground and gestured for her to sit.
"You are certainly full of surprises, Captain." She tugged the long, narrow skirt of her dress around her legs as she lowered herself onto the blanket, and folded her legs under her. "That is definitely a better view," she agreed.
"I've always thought so." Jacob folded his much longer body onto the blanket beside her. He held up his other hand to reveal a thermos and two cups. He flashed a wide, playful grin. "I didn't see you eat anything all night." He handed her both the cups and twisted the top off the thermos. The rich smell of coffee wafted toward them a moment later.
"I'm not sure plying a superior officer with coffee is going to get you a promotion," she said, voice lilting with barely suppressed glee, "and even if it does, I don't know that it will get you back to your starbase." She waited for him to put the thermos aside and take one of the cups, but before he did, he shrugged out of his jacket and draped it across her shoulders. A corner of her mouth lifted in thanks. When he did finally take the extra cup from her hand, she wrapped both hands around hers and lifted it. She inhaled deeply and hummed. "It will, however, gain you my everlasting appreciation."
He watched her take that first blissful sip and shook his head. "You know, I think I'd rather stick with that. Besides, I already agreed to give up the starbase dream. I'm starbound, and the closer we get, the more I find that I'm actually looking forward to it." Jake leaned back, he stretched his long legs out in front of him and propped his weight on his elbow as he reclined. "I used to come up here when I was a cadet. I'd hike the trail, and no matter how many different paths I took, I always ended up here."
"I didn't make it to the reserve until later, after I had graduated." Kathryn glanced down at him and shrugged a single shoulder. "I was always too busy with my nose in a book, or writing a paper, or spending entirely too many hours in one of the labs. After that first mission, the one with Owen," she clarified, although much of it was still classified, "I wasn't ready to go home yet and I didn't want to be around anyone. I came out here to disappear for a couple of hours. I walked until my legs burned and ended up on a ridge like this one. I just sat and watched as the sun faded and the lights came on, and then the moon rose and the stars came out. I felt that pull and remembered why I wanted to go out there among them in the beginning." She sighed and shook her head. Kathryn unfolded her legs, and leaned back beside him. "I had forgotten how beautiful it is."
Jake slanted a look at her. He watched the light bay breeze catch the tendrils of hair escaping the intricate knot at the nape of her neck and lift them away from her face. Her face had softened, and she was watching the night sky with an expression that was almost reverent. "Have you forgotten what it's like to be out there?" He asked, and decided they both needed to know the answer. It had been almost a year since she spent any significant time in space.
"I think I had to." She turned her head to meet his gaze. The response was quiet, but honest. "I think this past year has been a little like your starbase. I needed to have a solid foundation under my feet for a while before I could appreciate, again, what it means to be out there, doing the work that we do. Now that we're getting down to it, finally, I can't wait. The circumstances aren't ideal, and I do feel a great deal of compassion for the Romulan people, and everyone else living near the neutral zone, but I'm looking forward to getting out there and finding out what we can accomplish."
"Forward movement," Jake nodded. "I can appreciate that." He turned his gaze back to the city and let the silence settle over them while they enjoyed their coffee. Minutes stretched indeterminately, and he thought about topping off their cups. Instead, Jake cast a look at the woman beside him. "There's something I really need to ask you before it gets any later."
"Hm?" The quiet rumble of her voice intrigued her. Kathryn pulled her gaze away from the stars to look at him. The intensity of his expression drew her in, but he looked more genuinely curious than anything else, and she decided that intrigued her.
"If coffee is a food group," he watched her eyes crinkle in silent mirth and the corners of her mouth twitch toward the promise of a smile, "would you agree this isn't the first meal we've shared together?"
"On the basis of the evidence you have used to formulate that hypothesis," she replied, "I would have to conclude that this was not the first meal that we have shared together. Although I confess to a level of disappointment that you have not yet submitted your report that the substance we are enjoying should be reclassified as broth."
"I do apologize," he said, "I've been otherwise occupied. The tasks to which I've been assigned have prevented any extraneous report publication. I have noticed, though, despite other, more professional distractions, that by my count that would make a total of two meals shared in an informal setting, would you agree?"
Her lips pursed as she recalled the other, and remembered the evening only a week before when they had adjourned their late night of work to the officers' mess more than a dozen levels below her office. They had needed a change of scenery, and over a fresh pot of coffee they spent another few hours pouring over sensor reports and ship movements into and near the neutral zone. A lot of the information was from Starbase 234's sensor arrays, but Jacob hadn't needed to go over all of the reports with her. She had intended to spend the evening analyzing it with Decan's assistance, but the Captain had insisted on staying. She admitted that they'd gotten through it more efficiently with his help. The following afternoon they were able to present it, together, at a pre-mission briefing. In spite of their less than orthodox first meeting, they were able to work well together.
"Yes," she decided with a smile. "I would concur that this is the second. Are you keeping score, Captain?"
"Not exactly." Jake leaned closer, fractionally, and never took his eyes off her face. "I just thought I should point that out, Kathryn, before I invite you to dinner."
"I see," her brow arched. "Your attention to detail is appreciated, Jacob. I feel I should make that clear before I accept."
"Good. I'm pleased that we're on the same page." He tilted his face toward her and, surrounded by the light scent of her perfume, mingled with the salty breeze off the bay and the grass beneath them, Jake let his lips brush the corner of her mouth. "You should also know that I don't mind pursuing a beautiful, intelligent woman, even if she outranks me. I'm not cowed by extra pips, and all that confidence is damned alluring. If that's not okay with you, Kathryn, you can tell me now, and I'll respect you all the more."
"I think…" She placed a hand against his shoulder while she considered his words. Her lips tingled at the promise of a caress, and she decided she didn't mind that sensation at all. "I like an individual who is direct about his intentions. You should know," her hand slid across his shoulder to lay against his neck, "I don't engage in casual relationships, especially with subordinates."
"A decision I both support and respect. It was never my habit either. Just so that there is no misunderstanding, I have every intention of kissing you." His lips moved against the strong line of her jaw when he spoke, and at the quickly inhaled breath, he drew back and looked at her again. "I didn't decide that I was going to do either of those things until about twenty minutes ago, but in the interest of open dialogue and continued cooperation, I thought you should be aware."
"I will consider myself duly notified. In the interest of sharing, I decided about fifteen seconds ago that I was going to let you." She had lived her life in a version of personal suspended animation for entirely too long. She wasn't the kind of person that engaged in coy relationship games. Kathryn had already decided she liked him; he was attractive and intelligent, and if she learned anything at all in the last five minutes it was that she was also attracted to him.
"I'm glad to hear that," he husked, "I think we'll get along fine." Before she could respond again his mouth moved over hers, lips gentle as they explored, for the first time, something delightful and pleasurable. It might have lasted moments, or it could have lasted hours, what he knew for certain was that she tasted of coffee and wine, that her lips were soft but they were not pliant and neither was she. When he pulled away to meet her gaze again, he decided that was exactly how he liked her.
-TBC-