A/N: Short chapters at the moment. Hopefully I'll be up to speed soon.

Twenty Six

you are every woman I ever loved
and disavowed

a bloody incandescent chord strung out
across years, tracts of space

A Woman Dead in her Forties – Adrienne Rich

Mark rubbed his eyes as he walked out of the final security checkpoint and towards the arrivals lounge at LAX airport. They were gritty and dry, horribly dehydrated after the transatlantic flight. He was tired – the usual blank fatigue associated with being forced to sit in an air conditioned tin can at 40,000 feet for hours on end. He'd managed to sleep for a couple of hours, but as always while flying he'd mostly alternated between trying to read and watching whatever hacked-about films the in-flight entertainment had to offer.

He had definitely had enough of this sort of travel to last him a lifetime, a thought he'd had with increasing regularity the closer he got to the big 5-0. Well, this was it, once and for all. From now on, Mark decided, it'd be cruises or luxury trains: if he had to fly again it'd be only short-haul or else first class all the way. His mind wandered off on a daydream for a moment, as it had repeatedly during this trip. He'd always wanted to see the Rockies properly and wondered what Kathryn would think to that as a honeymoon trip. In fact, maybe they could combine it with a cruise up to Alaska… He'd been once, years ago, long before he had met her, and had adored it: the cold expanse of unspoiled land, the overwhelming beauty of the looming mountains. Mark loved the idea of sharing that with Kathryn.

He loved the idea of sharing it with his wife.

Mark smiled to himself as he walked. It was strange, how much power that small word had over him. It had been the same way back when he'd first asked Kathryn to marry him – for weeks afterwards he'd found himself smiling every time the term had popped into his head. But then it had proven so difficult to set a date that worked for both of them, and the months had turned into years, until they had both grown used to the engagement and had somehow forgotten that it was supposed to lead to something else. Now, with the date set and growing closer by the hour, he found himself back in that state he'd experienced previously: giddy with anticipation, not just for the day itself, but for what it meant.

Kathryn Janeway would soon be his wife. He would soon be her husband.

He wasn't sure he'd ever work out how he got to be so damn lucky.

Mark was still smiling as he walked out into the arrivals lounge. He was carrying the only luggage he'd taken with him – his backpack and a small black case that fitted into an overhead locker. If he'd learned one thing amid the countless hours spent in airports, it was how to travel light. He'd have to get a taxi back to Pasadena as he'd left his car at home, judging a long stay in airport parking to be less economical and-

"Mark!"

Her voice burst over him, that unique timbre that always made him think of sultry smoke-filled rooms and good jazz, as if she should be the hostess of a bar somewhere instead of forever scraping dirt from beneath her fingernails. And then suddenly there she was in front of him, somehow even more beautiful than he remembered, although how on earth could that be possible?

Mark dropped both bags at his feet and breathed her name as he wrapped his arms around her and hugged, hard. "Kathryn. God, I missed you."

She let him fold her against his chest, slipping her arms around him, and just for a second he felt her tremble. Mark frowned, pulling back slightly to look at her face. Kathryn met his gaze and his stomach instantly went into freefall. It plummeted to his toes and smashed there, a sick mess where his equilibrium used to be.

"What is it?" he asked. "What's happened?"

She dropped her eyes to his chest, then looked him in the eye again. That only made his growing nausea even worse because what he saw there was determination: the sort of determination that gets one through an unpleasant yet necessary task. And he knew what the next words out of her mouth were going to be and he didn't want to hear them, couldn't bear to hear them, not from her, not now, not when-

"We need to talk," she said, softly.

In one major way it wasn't as bad as he'd been expecting. Yet it was simultaneously somehow much, much worse.

They sat in the kitchen with coffee in front of them. Silence filled the space between and around them following Kathryn's explanation of everything that had happened around the night of Owen's gala. Molly, incongruously happy, pawed at his thigh and Mark absently rubbed the dog's ears as he stared at nothing, trying to navigate the black hole that had opened up in his heart.

On the drive back to Pasadena he had realised, somewhere around Alhambra, that she hadn't kissed him hello. That had reinforced his assumption that Kathryn was ending it - that this was what she was preparing to tell him. He was so convinced this was the case that he almost told her not to bother saying any more: that he got it and there was no need to rub salt in the wound with further explanation.

He hadn't been able to do that. Hope, that worst and best of human attitudes, held him silent. So he'd waited. He'd held out to hear her voice break his heart directly.

The story he'd got was about as far away from the realms of his imagination as it was possible to conceive.

"But you weren't hurt?" he asked, his voice croaking in the silence. "There wasn't – you didn't – none of the bullets -"

Kathryn shook her head.

Mark nodded, dumb again.

"I'll go," she said then, her hands clasped around each other on the table. "If you want me to. I can stay with Phoebe and Karl, or check into a hotel…"

The black hole opened a little wider. Mark looked at her, aching. "Do you want to go?"

"No," said Kathryn. "But it's up to you."

"Is it?" he asked. "Do you still want to marry me? Do you still want to spend your life with me? Do you love me, Kathryn?"

Mark could see tears in her eyes. "Yes," she said. "Yes."

"You haven't even kissed me," he pointed out. "I've been away for weeks, I've just got off a plane – and you haven't even kissed me."

Two tears slipped down her cheeks. "I didn't think I should. Not until you knew-" she stopped, shaking her head. "I didn't think I had the right to do that."

Silence reigned for another moment, and then Mark said, "Why did you do it? What made you kiss him? Because I know it wasn't drink, Kathryn. You'd never get behind the wheel of a car if you'd been drinking."

Her jaw tensed and released, more tears brushing over her skin. "I don't know," she said. "Mark, I don't know. I'm so sorry. It should never have happened, I should never have let it happen. This project – it's been so all-consuming, so important to me, and it was finally coming together and Chakotay's been there from the start-"

"-and I haven't."

She shook her head. "That's not what I meant. This isn't your fault."

Mark reached out and caught her hand. She held on, squeezing his fingers. "It's true, though. Isn't it? I was always against it. I always made things difficult for you. I didn't want you to do it – I didn't think you could – but there he was, right there-" Mark shook his head. "I'm a fool. I should have been there for you. I'm your fiancé, I had one job – to support you no matter what – and I failed at it miserably. I was afraid it would take you away from me and it did – because I wasn't willing to pitch in. Because I wasn't there."

"No," Kathryn said, "Mark, I don't blame you for that. None of this is your fault."

He lifted his other hand and smoothed his thumb over her cheek. "Maybe it is, maybe it isn't, but still. I wasn't there for you. And I will be now. I promise. From now on, whatever help you need in the garden, you can rely on me, Kathryn. I'll buy some gardening boots. I'll learn how to tell a weed from a zucchini. I'll – I'll fork manure until the cows run out, if that's what you want."

Kathryn smiled slightly. "Now that's an image I can't quite imagine."

Mark held on to her hand, pulling her towards him gently. Kathryn got out of her chair and moved around the table as he stood. He wasn't going to kiss her. She had to kiss him. He had to know she wanted to be there. It had to be her choice.

Kathryn stepped in close and pressed her hands to his chest. "I love you," she said, quietly. "I swear I will never hurt you again, Mark. Never."

Mark shut his eyes as her lips touched his. He believed her. Peculiarly, the trust he had in her had not been broken. Kathryn could have stayed in that apartment with Chakotay that night, but she hadn't. If she had chosen to keep the kiss a secret he would never have been any wiser, but she hadn't done that either.

She really was the most trustworthy person he knew.

And still the black hole spun in his heart.

[TBC]