[STV: J/P Fic] Solace
Solace
Sydney Alexis
A/N: This is a story that I started ages ago and rediscovered when I was working on the awards site. The plot is well worn. It's a little on the fluffy side, but not disgustingly so.
Captain:
Captain Kathryn Janeway, Commanding Officier of the Federation Starship Voyager. It's an impressive title, isn't it? And one that has cost me more than I care to think about over my life. But, somehow, being in the dark helps sooth the pain, but not by much. As I stood before the main window in my living room, I watched the stars streak by, marveling at the poor misfortune that trapped me here.
It was my fascination with space that drew me to this life. Had I known how things would turn out, I am not certain that I would return here. I lost my first serious lover, my father, and my freedom to Starfleet. I am wholly alone in this quadrant. Hundreds of lives rest solely on my shoulders. Fallible, imperfect, shoulders that are sagging under the burden.
Not only must I keep this ship out of harm, but I must maintain the sense of our original mission statement. I must live and act by the words of the Prime Directive...set an example for others to live by. And so, I exist here in my quarters...alone. Always alone.
I am not able to have the emotions that others do. I can't just take the day off if I am not in the mood to go to my shift. When I stand on that bridge, tall and proud, I am encouraging them on. They need that presence. They go on, living each day, hopefully deriving some enjoyment out of their time here. I, however, do not have that luxury.
Speaking to other people about emotions simply shows my own weaknesses. As their elected leader, I cannot show that side of myself. I have to be in command of all my senses at all times. I have to...I have to ignore my feelings. Hide them. Taking time to examine them would just be a waste of time. I already know what all my concerns, dreams, even fantasies would center around -or rather- who.
Everything would be a great deal simpler if we could find a way back home... No, that's a lie as well. After listening to the Admiral's message, I am left to think that, should we return, my Maquis officers would be arrested. I am certain I will fight for them should we return. Heaven knows that this trip alone is enough punishment. Being isolated from family and friends, not seeing their home world, provided they had one left at all...
Tom doesn't speak of his time in the penal colony that often. I do know that, while within the regulations for a humane environment, it is a place that breaks men's spirits. After my time as a prisoner of war, I was more then empathetic to what he went through. Maybe that's why I chose to give him a second chance. I never was clear on my motives. I suppose I could go for the obvious answer- it would have been an utter and complete waste of talent to keep him squirreled away in the bowels of the ship. Given the number of close calls he's saved us from, I have never regreted my decision. Perhaps Starfleet psychologists can give me an answer to that little mystery...
Oh I am more than certain that Starfleet is itching to scour through every log I've made in the past seven years in an attempt to find fault with me as well. Standard protocol and the Prime Directive are only the perfect ideals of what a good Starfleet captain should do at all times. However, in the Delta Quadrant, those ideals cannot always be followed.
With so many fears of what could be, I have even thought of just stopping...finding a planet that is uninhabited and setting anchor. It could just be for a few months, years, or a lifetime. The idea is appealing. Knowing that, even if for a few hours, I could be just Kathryn and not Captain Janeway.
My door chime sounds. Was it for the second time? I glance at the chronometer, growing annoyed at the interruption. At well past midnight only one person would dare knock. I allow myself so few hours of free time and yet he always insists on stopping by and thrusting his opinions upon me. I pull my robe tighter around my frame not willing for him to infer a separate meaning from my manner of dress.
"Come."
Lieutenant:
The voice that allowed me access is powerful, calm, but the vision before the glass is different. Her form is too thin. Her skin is pale. Her eyes are dull and devoid of emotion. Dark circles have formed beneath them. She is still, quiet. She is waiting for me to speak first. I move towards her, stand behind her, and place my hand on her shoulder. She turns. Her best mask is up. A brave façade that she has learned to throw up to fool those around her. I, however, know better.
She sits on the window seat, her back to the stars. A thin smile crosses her lips.
"At 0034 I am guessing this isn't a business call."
"No. It's not," I said, slipping into a seat beside her.
She folds her hands in her lap and casts her gaze downward. I see her struggling to maintain composure. Her breath is deep and uneven.
"Then what is it you've come to talk to me about?" Her voice shakes, stops. It's as if she has more to add on...unsure of how to address me. Things had been like this since the warp ten flight. We aren't quite sure how to act toward one another when not in public. What do you say to a woman you've mated and had children with?
Our unique connection left me with a better sense of who she is, what normal behavior for her is, but I really didn't need it to have known something was wrong. The others would have noticed as well if they weren't so busy with their own lives.
After a week of the standard tactics- dragging her to the holodeck, pranks, stories on the bridge, I decided it was time to resort to more drastic measures to pull her back to us- brutal honesty. I know she won't be thrilled. All I can hope is that she'll listen and take what I say to heart. I take in a deep breath and attempt to broach the subject with her.
"I came because I was worried about you." My voice comes out so soft, but I know she heard me by the way she stiffened in her seat. Instead of chastising me or ordering me from her quarters as I half expected her to do, she laughs. It's sound is dark and humorless and it sends chills through me. Her eyes tell me everything I need to know- they're clouded, conflicted. I place my hand on her knee. She doesn't pull back to which I am surprised.
"Did you ever study mythology, Tom?"
I felt my eyesbrows raise in confusion, but decided to let her move into non-sequitorville. I smiled at her. "Yeah. One of the English tutors I had when I was a kid was really into those stories. I'd stay up late at night studying it so I could impress her with my knowledge."
Kathryn laughed honestly this time. My smile deepend at the sound. "Was anything in your youth not about sex, Tom?" She asked, making me blush. I make a mental note to decrease the number of 'Tom tries to get some and fails' stories on the bridge.
The smile on her lips fades and her expression becomes more serious. "When I was a child, my mother gave me a small book that was filled with Roman and Greek Mythology. One of the stories in it was of a god tricked into holding Earth on his shoulders."
"Atlas. Yeah, I remember that one," I said, trying to keep my voice as neutral as possible. I knew the moment that she mentioned the story where this was heading. To be honest, I was surprised at her directness. She and I have done this dance before. This time though...she's more open. I can clearly see the pain in her face and the fact that she's taking no action to hide it scares me.
Kathryn:
His hand is still on my knee and all I can think is how soft it is..how long it has been. Then the rational side returns and I recall who I am. The captain. I am in charge of keeping this crew safe. He's a subordinate and a dear friend.
The heat of his hand though... It's been such a long time since I have let anyone in. My eyes well up with tears, my heart is screaming, but my mind is filled with protocol, directive, and guilt. I know that it is fear and duty are all that is keeping me silent. It's a cruel, trite little circle that keeps running round in my mind.
I begin to tell him about the book that I thumbed through earlier. The one that started me in the train of thought I was on when he came in. I hope that Tom will be able to deduce my meaning without me connecting the dots. I suppose that's why I was always drawn to him- intelligence, sense of humor, and he understands the dark side of life that so few even want to delve into.
I hear the words I am speaking, and cannot believe that I am saying them. Opening myself up like this was out of character for me. Yet, I don't stop myself. Release is what he is offering me, and I am accepting it. I place my hand on his, willing him to keep touching me, and he smiles. Smart boy.
Tomorrow, I will blame the wine I had ingested or sleep deprivation, but something tells me he'll never call me on it. In fact, something tells me he wants this as much as I do. Tonight, I'll cleanse my spirit. I'll trust him with all my little secrets because I know in the end he'll never tell a soul.
Tom:
Her voice is so distant and yet so free. The words tumble out without her thinking of consequence, and I begin to wonder how much wine is left in the bottle beside her.
She covers my hand with hers. The soft skin wraps around my own, and I can't help but close my eyes for a second. I know that I am here only as her friend, but I drink in the moment, her scent. I am still enamored with her. However, I know that she must make the first move. I force my eyes open and focus on her words.
She speaks of New Earth and my heart skips a beat. Chakotay was such a fool. He'd put impossible expectations on her and expected her to rise to them like a circus dog jumping through hoops. He was unwilling to give her his friendship without the sexual undertones, unable to hold her without twisting it into some sort of come on.
"I was working late one night, trying to find a cure. It started off innocently- he was rubbing my shoulders, but, like always, he ended up coming on to me. I acted like a child...running and hiding in my bed, praying that it would all go away," she said, laughing.
"I was laying there for several long moments when I realized what he was offering me...love, a family... and I didn't want it."
Her eyes met mine and held them, burning with so many emotions at once I was having trouble reading her.
"For one, I wasn't sure that I deserved it or that I wanted it," she said, standing, beginning to pace. A long pause followed. I knew she was working up to a conclusion, and I wasn't going to force her into saying anything she would be uncomfortable admitting.
"In those moments, I realized the feelings I had for him was and always would be friendship and nothing more," she said, returning to sit next to me.
"Things got really complicated after that," she said, pausing again, a far away look in her eyes. She continued, still looking off into the distance. A thin sheen took over her eyes. "At least until the ship came back and saved us... gave me an excuse to duck his advances without hurting his feelings. God, I'd never been so happy to be aboard," she buried her face in her hands.
She straightened herself in her seat, wiping at her eyes. I was surprised to see her crying. She rarely allowed anyone to see any emotion from her other than anger and that only came after someone had pushed her buttons.
"Of course nothing stays simple. Coming back meant facing other feelings," she said, turning to look at me pointedly. "Sometimes I would sit in the mess hall and watch you and B'Elanna and Harry and I would get so jealous."
She stopped to gauge my reaction before continuing. I nudged her explanation along by raising my eyebrows but said nothing. Sometimes she needs an ear and nothing more- no platitudes of love, no advice, no tales from your own life. Nothing. Yet another side to a friendship that Chakotay didn't understand.
"The look in your eyes when you saw B'Elanna is the same you hold in yours when you see me now, but more closely guarded. The difference is that when you were with her, you could reach out and hold her hand in the middle of the mess hall and no one would think anything of it..."
My face fell. Was I that transparent? She began to laugh at my crestfallen expression. Apparently I had been found out, but I couldn't say a word to her to stop the deep red my face was turning. The sound of her laughter was so sweet. She leaned against me. An act she has done more times than I can count.
Kathryn:
He's wraped his arm around my shoulder. The act is subconscious and meant to comfort. This quiet, introspective portion of Tom's personality is one that few have had the opportunity to see. The look that he's wearing is one that he also rarely shows- pain. I recognize it from all the chats we've had about his upbringing and the handful of times we've dicussed New Zealand.
"I've got a confession to make," he looks at me, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
"Generally confessions start with a 'Forgive me, Captain, for I have sinned,'" I deadpan. He laughs at my attempt. His face then grows serious, and I know I'm not going to enjoy his 'confession.' His hesitation only strengthens my apprehension.
"They say confession is good for the soul."
He lowers his head, again smiling. "Remember that message you got a few days ago? The encrypted file from Earth from my father?"
I nod slowly, silently.
"When you started avoiding me, I was worried something had happened... You just shut down. Disappeared into these quarters like it was some sort of santuary..."
"So you hacked your way into my files and read his report?" I asked, incredulously.
I knew I should feel anger, but, instead, all I feel is relief. Someone else on this ship knows. Another living being that I can talk this out with without breaking regulations. This entire situation reminded me of the Omega Directive. The outcome wouldn't effect as many people, but I still felt utterly alone.
"After all these years...I can't believe they would still hold you to those orders."
"Thery don't matter," I heard myself say. "We're still a few years away from Earth, assuming that we make it. Maybe, by the time we get there, they'll withdraw the charges."
"If the crew knew..." he said, softly, closing his eyes.
"Some of them would still want to get home. The Maquis...we'll stop just outside of the Alpha Quadrant and let them go their separate way. You included. It won't be that difficult. We'll just drop all of you off on a planet with some provisions and a few shuttles and..."
"No," he said firmly. I turned my face to his.
"No?" I repeat.
"I'm not leaving you," he said, simply. I opened my mouth to object, but he quickly added "It'll never happen. The public outcry would be too large. Everyone will be so impressed that we made it back alive that they'll be willing to ignore the handful of things we've done."
"Until the media gets bored and drops the story. Starfleet will open the investigations, read through all the logs..."
"And not do a damned thing. So you bend the rules? So what? Do you really think that we'd still be around...alive if it hadn't been for you? Lord knows Captain Tonto would have gotten us all assimilated by the Borg by now..."
"Tom..." My voice is warning and I see his eyes soften, all anger dispelled. He licked his lips, searching for something to say to disarm me, to make me feel better. I wonder if he realizes that I don't want to.
"If you want me to cheer you up, you're going to have to meet me half way, Kathryn. You can't keep shooting a guy down." He offers me a deep smile. The kind that he reserves only for those he cares about. I return my gaze to my hands. Why does he have to make everything so difficult?
Tom:
A smile crosses her lips as make a quip about the situation. Defense mechanism I guess. Anything to lighten the mood.
I've crossed so many barriers this evening, I venture another, reaching across to lift her chin with my fingers. I'd known since we started talking about returning home that there was more that was bothering her than just the Maquis.
"What else has got you so worried?"
She is looking down at her hands again. Her left hand is still covering mine while the right is clinging to her robe. Her knuckles have grown white as if that scrap of fabric is her lifeline. She released her grip slowly.
Her hesitation to answer means that it's not ship business. An uneasiness grow in the pit of my stomach as I try to feel her out.
I look into her eyes and see what I'm looking for. Just a flicker, but it's there. I touch her cheek with the palm of my hand.
"Oh, Kathryn...why didn't..."
Instantly she pulls back as if she'd been scalded by my touch. She's up and by the window before I can stop her. In a quiet, unassuming voice she's asking me to leave.
"No."
"No?" She repeated, turning toward me, eyes awash with tears and anger. She was mine in that moment. Rage, anger, hurt, and love, all bundled up into one. She threatened to call security.
"And tell them what? Tom Paris just happened to stop by in your quarters at 12 in the morning. That you were wearing a bathrobe and not much else at the time? Sure the rumor mill would just love that one," I spat out. I was angry, and it was irrational. I knew I shouldn't take it out on her.
She turned away from me, back to looking out the window. Sighing, I ran a hand through my short-cropped hair. This wasn't going as I had hoped.
"You're not a nun, Kathryn. You are more than entitled to have feelings."
"Feelings yes. Relationships no."
"Why? Because you're the captain? Newsflash, Kathryn, you've already broken a dozen different rules. What's one more?"
"And continue to ignore all the little rules that are inconvinent?"
"Not saying that. Just saying that circumstances here are so far removed from what Starfleet had in mind that maybe it was time to write our own."
"And while we're at it, we can change the ship's name to the USS Insurrection," she volleyed.
"It's been done before. History is filled with people changing the rules. Questioning them, leading others to see it."
"I'm not Martin Luther or some colonialist angry at the price of tea, Tom."
"You're not? You're miles away from your governing body, receiving news that members of your crew are criminals. And what do you do? Sit in your room and brood, considering methods of aiding and abetting the Maquis. Sounds like a pretty revolutionary move to me."
She sighed and sank onto her sofa, posture giving away impending defeat. "Does, doesn't it?"
"You've never been a coward, Kathryn. Don't start now." She laughed mirthlessly.
"You sound like your father."
Slipping onto the seat beside her, I held my hands up in mock surrender. "Hey now...I was trying to cheer you up not swap insults."
"You should have stayed in Starfleet, Tom. You would have made an excellent captain."
"And a better commander than Tonto."
She laughed, resting her head against my shoulder. An unconscious act that she had taken to as of late.
"What am I going to do with you, Tom?" she said, sighing.
"Throw me in the brig? Shoot me, stuff me, and mount me?"
Kathryn laughed at the double entendre. "I think you'd look excellent hanging over my desk in my ready room as a warning to all the other crew."
"Don't know how you could get work done with me handsome face looming over you," I quipped.
"I think I'd manage somehow," she said, her face turning toward me. I felt her stiffen beside me as she realized just how close we were sitting. Deciding to chance it, I leaned forward and brushed my lips against hers in just the barest of kisses.
Kathryn:
Tom made me laugh for the first time in what seems like weeks. Before I realized what was happening, I feel his lips brush across mine. I felt myself open up to him, a moan escaping into the quiet quarters, unsure if it was made by him or me. I knew I should have stopped him, but just feeling loved and wanted clouded my judgment.
His caresses were light and experimental as any new lover memorizing the places that elicit moans. I close my eyes and loose myself in his touch and what it offers...solace. In that moment, I knew that I could allow myself to simply be Kathryn.
Sydney Alexis
A/N: This is a story that I started ages ago and rediscovered when I was working on the awards site. The plot is well worn. It's a little on the fluffy side, but not disgustingly so.
Captain:
Captain Kathryn Janeway, Commanding Officier of the Federation Starship Voyager. It's an impressive title, isn't it? And one that has cost me more than I care to think about over my life. But, somehow, being in the dark helps sooth the pain, but not by much. As I stood before the main window in my living room, I watched the stars streak by, marveling at the poor misfortune that trapped me here.
It was my fascination with space that drew me to this life. Had I known how things would turn out, I am not certain that I would return here. I lost my first serious lover, my father, and my freedom to Starfleet. I am wholly alone in this quadrant. Hundreds of lives rest solely on my shoulders. Fallible, imperfect, shoulders that are sagging under the burden.
Not only must I keep this ship out of harm, but I must maintain the sense of our original mission statement. I must live and act by the words of the Prime Directive...set an example for others to live by. And so, I exist here in my quarters...alone. Always alone.
I am not able to have the emotions that others do. I can't just take the day off if I am not in the mood to go to my shift. When I stand on that bridge, tall and proud, I am encouraging them on. They need that presence. They go on, living each day, hopefully deriving some enjoyment out of their time here. I, however, do not have that luxury.
Speaking to other people about emotions simply shows my own weaknesses. As their elected leader, I cannot show that side of myself. I have to be in command of all my senses at all times. I have to...I have to ignore my feelings. Hide them. Taking time to examine them would just be a waste of time. I already know what all my concerns, dreams, even fantasies would center around -or rather- who.
Everything would be a great deal simpler if we could find a way back home... No, that's a lie as well. After listening to the Admiral's message, I am left to think that, should we return, my Maquis officers would be arrested. I am certain I will fight for them should we return. Heaven knows that this trip alone is enough punishment. Being isolated from family and friends, not seeing their home world, provided they had one left at all...
Tom doesn't speak of his time in the penal colony that often. I do know that, while within the regulations for a humane environment, it is a place that breaks men's spirits. After my time as a prisoner of war, I was more then empathetic to what he went through. Maybe that's why I chose to give him a second chance. I never was clear on my motives. I suppose I could go for the obvious answer- it would have been an utter and complete waste of talent to keep him squirreled away in the bowels of the ship. Given the number of close calls he's saved us from, I have never regreted my decision. Perhaps Starfleet psychologists can give me an answer to that little mystery...
Oh I am more than certain that Starfleet is itching to scour through every log I've made in the past seven years in an attempt to find fault with me as well. Standard protocol and the Prime Directive are only the perfect ideals of what a good Starfleet captain should do at all times. However, in the Delta Quadrant, those ideals cannot always be followed.
With so many fears of what could be, I have even thought of just stopping...finding a planet that is uninhabited and setting anchor. It could just be for a few months, years, or a lifetime. The idea is appealing. Knowing that, even if for a few hours, I could be just Kathryn and not Captain Janeway.
My door chime sounds. Was it for the second time? I glance at the chronometer, growing annoyed at the interruption. At well past midnight only one person would dare knock. I allow myself so few hours of free time and yet he always insists on stopping by and thrusting his opinions upon me. I pull my robe tighter around my frame not willing for him to infer a separate meaning from my manner of dress.
"Come."
Lieutenant:
The voice that allowed me access is powerful, calm, but the vision before the glass is different. Her form is too thin. Her skin is pale. Her eyes are dull and devoid of emotion. Dark circles have formed beneath them. She is still, quiet. She is waiting for me to speak first. I move towards her, stand behind her, and place my hand on her shoulder. She turns. Her best mask is up. A brave façade that she has learned to throw up to fool those around her. I, however, know better.
She sits on the window seat, her back to the stars. A thin smile crosses her lips.
"At 0034 I am guessing this isn't a business call."
"No. It's not," I said, slipping into a seat beside her.
She folds her hands in her lap and casts her gaze downward. I see her struggling to maintain composure. Her breath is deep and uneven.
"Then what is it you've come to talk to me about?" Her voice shakes, stops. It's as if she has more to add on...unsure of how to address me. Things had been like this since the warp ten flight. We aren't quite sure how to act toward one another when not in public. What do you say to a woman you've mated and had children with?
Our unique connection left me with a better sense of who she is, what normal behavior for her is, but I really didn't need it to have known something was wrong. The others would have noticed as well if they weren't so busy with their own lives.
After a week of the standard tactics- dragging her to the holodeck, pranks, stories on the bridge, I decided it was time to resort to more drastic measures to pull her back to us- brutal honesty. I know she won't be thrilled. All I can hope is that she'll listen and take what I say to heart. I take in a deep breath and attempt to broach the subject with her.
"I came because I was worried about you." My voice comes out so soft, but I know she heard me by the way she stiffened in her seat. Instead of chastising me or ordering me from her quarters as I half expected her to do, she laughs. It's sound is dark and humorless and it sends chills through me. Her eyes tell me everything I need to know- they're clouded, conflicted. I place my hand on her knee. She doesn't pull back to which I am surprised.
"Did you ever study mythology, Tom?"
I felt my eyesbrows raise in confusion, but decided to let her move into non-sequitorville. I smiled at her. "Yeah. One of the English tutors I had when I was a kid was really into those stories. I'd stay up late at night studying it so I could impress her with my knowledge."
Kathryn laughed honestly this time. My smile deepend at the sound. "Was anything in your youth not about sex, Tom?" She asked, making me blush. I make a mental note to decrease the number of 'Tom tries to get some and fails' stories on the bridge.
The smile on her lips fades and her expression becomes more serious. "When I was a child, my mother gave me a small book that was filled with Roman and Greek Mythology. One of the stories in it was of a god tricked into holding Earth on his shoulders."
"Atlas. Yeah, I remember that one," I said, trying to keep my voice as neutral as possible. I knew the moment that she mentioned the story where this was heading. To be honest, I was surprised at her directness. She and I have done this dance before. This time though...she's more open. I can clearly see the pain in her face and the fact that she's taking no action to hide it scares me.
Kathryn:
His hand is still on my knee and all I can think is how soft it is..how long it has been. Then the rational side returns and I recall who I am. The captain. I am in charge of keeping this crew safe. He's a subordinate and a dear friend.
The heat of his hand though... It's been such a long time since I have let anyone in. My eyes well up with tears, my heart is screaming, but my mind is filled with protocol, directive, and guilt. I know that it is fear and duty are all that is keeping me silent. It's a cruel, trite little circle that keeps running round in my mind.
I begin to tell him about the book that I thumbed through earlier. The one that started me in the train of thought I was on when he came in. I hope that Tom will be able to deduce my meaning without me connecting the dots. I suppose that's why I was always drawn to him- intelligence, sense of humor, and he understands the dark side of life that so few even want to delve into.
I hear the words I am speaking, and cannot believe that I am saying them. Opening myself up like this was out of character for me. Yet, I don't stop myself. Release is what he is offering me, and I am accepting it. I place my hand on his, willing him to keep touching me, and he smiles. Smart boy.
Tomorrow, I will blame the wine I had ingested or sleep deprivation, but something tells me he'll never call me on it. In fact, something tells me he wants this as much as I do. Tonight, I'll cleanse my spirit. I'll trust him with all my little secrets because I know in the end he'll never tell a soul.
Tom:
Her voice is so distant and yet so free. The words tumble out without her thinking of consequence, and I begin to wonder how much wine is left in the bottle beside her.
She covers my hand with hers. The soft skin wraps around my own, and I can't help but close my eyes for a second. I know that I am here only as her friend, but I drink in the moment, her scent. I am still enamored with her. However, I know that she must make the first move. I force my eyes open and focus on her words.
She speaks of New Earth and my heart skips a beat. Chakotay was such a fool. He'd put impossible expectations on her and expected her to rise to them like a circus dog jumping through hoops. He was unwilling to give her his friendship without the sexual undertones, unable to hold her without twisting it into some sort of come on.
"I was working late one night, trying to find a cure. It started off innocently- he was rubbing my shoulders, but, like always, he ended up coming on to me. I acted like a child...running and hiding in my bed, praying that it would all go away," she said, laughing.
"I was laying there for several long moments when I realized what he was offering me...love, a family... and I didn't want it."
Her eyes met mine and held them, burning with so many emotions at once I was having trouble reading her.
"For one, I wasn't sure that I deserved it or that I wanted it," she said, standing, beginning to pace. A long pause followed. I knew she was working up to a conclusion, and I wasn't going to force her into saying anything she would be uncomfortable admitting.
"In those moments, I realized the feelings I had for him was and always would be friendship and nothing more," she said, returning to sit next to me.
"Things got really complicated after that," she said, pausing again, a far away look in her eyes. She continued, still looking off into the distance. A thin sheen took over her eyes. "At least until the ship came back and saved us... gave me an excuse to duck his advances without hurting his feelings. God, I'd never been so happy to be aboard," she buried her face in her hands.
She straightened herself in her seat, wiping at her eyes. I was surprised to see her crying. She rarely allowed anyone to see any emotion from her other than anger and that only came after someone had pushed her buttons.
"Of course nothing stays simple. Coming back meant facing other feelings," she said, turning to look at me pointedly. "Sometimes I would sit in the mess hall and watch you and B'Elanna and Harry and I would get so jealous."
She stopped to gauge my reaction before continuing. I nudged her explanation along by raising my eyebrows but said nothing. Sometimes she needs an ear and nothing more- no platitudes of love, no advice, no tales from your own life. Nothing. Yet another side to a friendship that Chakotay didn't understand.
"The look in your eyes when you saw B'Elanna is the same you hold in yours when you see me now, but more closely guarded. The difference is that when you were with her, you could reach out and hold her hand in the middle of the mess hall and no one would think anything of it..."
My face fell. Was I that transparent? She began to laugh at my crestfallen expression. Apparently I had been found out, but I couldn't say a word to her to stop the deep red my face was turning. The sound of her laughter was so sweet. She leaned against me. An act she has done more times than I can count.
Kathryn:
He's wraped his arm around my shoulder. The act is subconscious and meant to comfort. This quiet, introspective portion of Tom's personality is one that few have had the opportunity to see. The look that he's wearing is one that he also rarely shows- pain. I recognize it from all the chats we've had about his upbringing and the handful of times we've dicussed New Zealand.
"I've got a confession to make," he looks at me, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
"Generally confessions start with a 'Forgive me, Captain, for I have sinned,'" I deadpan. He laughs at my attempt. His face then grows serious, and I know I'm not going to enjoy his 'confession.' His hesitation only strengthens my apprehension.
"They say confession is good for the soul."
He lowers his head, again smiling. "Remember that message you got a few days ago? The encrypted file from Earth from my father?"
I nod slowly, silently.
"When you started avoiding me, I was worried something had happened... You just shut down. Disappeared into these quarters like it was some sort of santuary..."
"So you hacked your way into my files and read his report?" I asked, incredulously.
I knew I should feel anger, but, instead, all I feel is relief. Someone else on this ship knows. Another living being that I can talk this out with without breaking regulations. This entire situation reminded me of the Omega Directive. The outcome wouldn't effect as many people, but I still felt utterly alone.
"After all these years...I can't believe they would still hold you to those orders."
"Thery don't matter," I heard myself say. "We're still a few years away from Earth, assuming that we make it. Maybe, by the time we get there, they'll withdraw the charges."
"If the crew knew..." he said, softly, closing his eyes.
"Some of them would still want to get home. The Maquis...we'll stop just outside of the Alpha Quadrant and let them go their separate way. You included. It won't be that difficult. We'll just drop all of you off on a planet with some provisions and a few shuttles and..."
"No," he said firmly. I turned my face to his.
"No?" I repeat.
"I'm not leaving you," he said, simply. I opened my mouth to object, but he quickly added "It'll never happen. The public outcry would be too large. Everyone will be so impressed that we made it back alive that they'll be willing to ignore the handful of things we've done."
"Until the media gets bored and drops the story. Starfleet will open the investigations, read through all the logs..."
"And not do a damned thing. So you bend the rules? So what? Do you really think that we'd still be around...alive if it hadn't been for you? Lord knows Captain Tonto would have gotten us all assimilated by the Borg by now..."
"Tom..." My voice is warning and I see his eyes soften, all anger dispelled. He licked his lips, searching for something to say to disarm me, to make me feel better. I wonder if he realizes that I don't want to.
"If you want me to cheer you up, you're going to have to meet me half way, Kathryn. You can't keep shooting a guy down." He offers me a deep smile. The kind that he reserves only for those he cares about. I return my gaze to my hands. Why does he have to make everything so difficult?
Tom:
A smile crosses her lips as make a quip about the situation. Defense mechanism I guess. Anything to lighten the mood.
I've crossed so many barriers this evening, I venture another, reaching across to lift her chin with my fingers. I'd known since we started talking about returning home that there was more that was bothering her than just the Maquis.
"What else has got you so worried?"
She is looking down at her hands again. Her left hand is still covering mine while the right is clinging to her robe. Her knuckles have grown white as if that scrap of fabric is her lifeline. She released her grip slowly.
Her hesitation to answer means that it's not ship business. An uneasiness grow in the pit of my stomach as I try to feel her out.
I look into her eyes and see what I'm looking for. Just a flicker, but it's there. I touch her cheek with the palm of my hand.
"Oh, Kathryn...why didn't..."
Instantly she pulls back as if she'd been scalded by my touch. She's up and by the window before I can stop her. In a quiet, unassuming voice she's asking me to leave.
"No."
"No?" She repeated, turning toward me, eyes awash with tears and anger. She was mine in that moment. Rage, anger, hurt, and love, all bundled up into one. She threatened to call security.
"And tell them what? Tom Paris just happened to stop by in your quarters at 12 in the morning. That you were wearing a bathrobe and not much else at the time? Sure the rumor mill would just love that one," I spat out. I was angry, and it was irrational. I knew I shouldn't take it out on her.
She turned away from me, back to looking out the window. Sighing, I ran a hand through my short-cropped hair. This wasn't going as I had hoped.
"You're not a nun, Kathryn. You are more than entitled to have feelings."
"Feelings yes. Relationships no."
"Why? Because you're the captain? Newsflash, Kathryn, you've already broken a dozen different rules. What's one more?"
"And continue to ignore all the little rules that are inconvinent?"
"Not saying that. Just saying that circumstances here are so far removed from what Starfleet had in mind that maybe it was time to write our own."
"And while we're at it, we can change the ship's name to the USS Insurrection," she volleyed.
"It's been done before. History is filled with people changing the rules. Questioning them, leading others to see it."
"I'm not Martin Luther or some colonialist angry at the price of tea, Tom."
"You're not? You're miles away from your governing body, receiving news that members of your crew are criminals. And what do you do? Sit in your room and brood, considering methods of aiding and abetting the Maquis. Sounds like a pretty revolutionary move to me."
She sighed and sank onto her sofa, posture giving away impending defeat. "Does, doesn't it?"
"You've never been a coward, Kathryn. Don't start now." She laughed mirthlessly.
"You sound like your father."
Slipping onto the seat beside her, I held my hands up in mock surrender. "Hey now...I was trying to cheer you up not swap insults."
"You should have stayed in Starfleet, Tom. You would have made an excellent captain."
"And a better commander than Tonto."
She laughed, resting her head against my shoulder. An unconscious act that she had taken to as of late.
"What am I going to do with you, Tom?" she said, sighing.
"Throw me in the brig? Shoot me, stuff me, and mount me?"
Kathryn laughed at the double entendre. "I think you'd look excellent hanging over my desk in my ready room as a warning to all the other crew."
"Don't know how you could get work done with me handsome face looming over you," I quipped.
"I think I'd manage somehow," she said, her face turning toward me. I felt her stiffen beside me as she realized just how close we were sitting. Deciding to chance it, I leaned forward and brushed my lips against hers in just the barest of kisses.
Kathryn:
Tom made me laugh for the first time in what seems like weeks. Before I realized what was happening, I feel his lips brush across mine. I felt myself open up to him, a moan escaping into the quiet quarters, unsure if it was made by him or me. I knew I should have stopped him, but just feeling loved and wanted clouded my judgment.
His caresses were light and experimental as any new lover memorizing the places that elicit moans. I close my eyes and loose myself in his touch and what it offers...solace. In that moment, I knew that I could allow myself to simply be Kathryn.