A Tale of Two Kathryns

Prologue

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way--in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.

---Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

"Hey, I might be bored as hell, but Im not going there!"

"Good idea, Tom," Harry patted his back. They were sitting in the mess hall, relaxing over a hot cup of joe at 2am in the morning. It was empty except for both of them and the rest of the senior officers. In the corner closest to the viewport, where the eternal veil of darkness embraced the stars, sat Kathryn. She wore civilians clothing and her stance was relaxed. Her auburn locks, turned a soft chestnut color with the passing of time, framed her face as they cascaded down her back. It'd grown since the last time Tom saw her, and he could have sworn that he'd seen bags underneath her eyes earlier.

"Are you upset he couldn't make it, Captain?"

"Harry, please, call me Kathryn; I havent been the Captain in years!" she laughed softly, "No, Im not upset, but I guess I just thought he would be here. Its been a year, after all. "

"That Ptak!" He heard B'Elanna grumble under her breath.

"Has anybody heard from him lately?" she asked, and Tom caught a hint of melancholy in her deep, blue eyes.

"No idea," Harry admitted, "Last I spoke to him was six months ago, he hasnt called since then."

"Did he tell you where he was or what were his plans?" Tom looked at him. He shook his head.

"No, although, now that I think about it, he did mention something about wanting to write a book. Something about healing, I think."

"Chakotay, a writer?" B'Elanna burst in laughter, "Oh, please, give me a break! The only story the man knows is Three Little Pigs and he doesn't even know the whole story."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that, B. Chakotay has the education of a XIX century third-year-student at Trinity College. Have you ever seen the man's literary interest? As to the writing, I think he was born for it." There was a look on her face Tom couldn't decipher.

"Care to explain, Kat?"

"Ugh, please don't call me that. Only my aunt calls me that and I absolutely hate it."

"Whatever, answer my question."

"There are some things, Tom, that I prefer keeping to myself." Kathryn lowered her head and stared at the floor.

"Am I sensing what I'm sensing here, Captain?" He teased. B'Elanna bore her eyes at him.

"You know, Sweetheart, she's not a telepath. Although, sometimes I wonder whether she is or not."

"She's not, but Tuvok is." The Vulcan turned to look at him and lifted an inquisitive eyebrow.

"I would prefer, Lieutenant, if you would please leave me out of it."

"Why, don't be so bitter, Mr. Vulcan. Let Lieutenant Paris have some fun," Neelix cut in.

"For once, I must agree with Mr. Neelix. You have to learn to have a little fun."

"I am sorry, Captain, but I am a Vulcan. Vulcans do not have fun."

"Oh, come on, Tuvok, surely you are bluffing."

"Vulcans never bluff."

"You know, Tuvok," Kathryn took a sip of her steaming cup, "quoting Spock won't get you very far." The room exploded with laughter at her comment. This was a whole new side to Captain Kathryn Janeway that Tom had yet to test flight.

"Alright," she sentenced, "I'll leave you to it, I must get some sleep before morning. See you all in couple of hours." And she walked out of the room, coffee mug in hand.