The BLTS Archive -  Hairy Reflections
by LisaT (townsend_lisa@hotmail.com)

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Published: 03-14-06

Updated: 03-14-06

This is a spot of fluff, really. It's a KJ introspective taking place
around the time of ST: Nemesis. The idea popped into my head after
watching the specials on the DVD box set from season 1 about the angst
over Kate Mulgrew's hair! Reading the Voyager Companion gave me a few
more ideas... I hope people enjoy this, and, as always, please review.
Oh, and I hate the title, but they've never been my strong point..

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Admiral Kathryn Janeway heaved a sigh of relief as she closed her
front door. It had been a long day-longer, even, than usual, thanks to
the current Romulan crisis, and she was glad to be home.

"Kathryn? Is that you?" The voice came from the study, beyond the
open-plan kitchen and living room.

Janeway rolled her eyes as she slipped out of her boots, wincing as
her shin muscles protested. "As far as I know. You weren't expecting
anyone else, were you?"

There was a slight pause, then: "Oh, yes, that's right. I had to get
rid of the latest floozy. There. She's just disappeared out of the
window."

Kathryn rolled her eyes again. "I'm not sure you working from home was
such a good idea!"

"H'mm. It has its advantages. How was your day? Aren't you going to
come in and say hello?"

"Not immediately," Kathryn called back as she picked up her boots and
headed for the stairs. "I want to freshen up first."

"All right." Another pause. "The coffee's just brewed, by the way."

Kathryn hesitated, one hand on the banister. "Why didn't you say so?"
She dropped her boots again and went to grab a cup of her favourite
form of sustenance, took a reviving gulp, called her thanks, and
finally headed up to the bedroom.

Once there she shed her uniform- thinking that at least the rank bars
were harder to lose than the four pips she'd worn as a captain- and
then entered her bathroom. She smiled as she inhaled the warming scent
of vanilla and cinnamon- smells of home, smells of childhood. She
turned the taps and leaned on the side of the bath, her eyes closed,
feeling the strains and tensions of the day drain away, lulled by the
sound of the water and the peace of this room, her haven.

Discomfort roused her. It took a moment for her tired brain to process
the source, aware only of the digging sensation in her scalp.
Grimacing slightly, she pushed herself up, away from the bath and
towards the basin and the mirror, still clear of steam due to the
pipes that circulated warm water behind the glass.

"Wonderful technology," she mumbled as she stared at her reflection.
She frowned. She looked tired and stern and old. Maybe a little steam
wouldn't be such a bad idea, she mused. She looked closer, tracing the
lines about her eyes with a forefinger. Those lines were scars of
battle, earned during seven hard years in the Delta Quadrant.

She sighed and plunged her fingers into her hair, seeking the nest of
hairpins that anchored the bun to her head. A grin flickered across
her face, remembering the Voyager crew's affectionate term for the
similar style she'd worn in those first years of their exile: the Bun
of Steel. The smile faded as the locks of mingled brown and red and
gold- and yes, the odd thread of grey- fell across her shoulders and
back in a warm rush. The difference it caused in her appearance was
immediate, making her look instantly younger, warmer, softer. The
antithesis of the tightly-coifed admiral.

Kathryn smiled in satisfaction as she ran a brush through her hair.
The woman in the mirror was not Admiral Janeway, but Kathryn. It felt
good. At times like these, Kathryn realised how much of herself she'd
lost when she'd hacked off her mane early in the fourth year of their
journey.

Still thinking, she stripped off and descended into her bath,
relishing the velvety feel of the bubbles and the heat. A lock escaped
from its temporary binding- butterfly clips were not always the most
efficient means of anchoring hair, she thought. She twisted it up
again, and sank back.

During their years in the Delta Quadrant hair had symbolised the
dichotomy of her personality and role- when up, she'd been the
intrepid Captain Janeway. When down, she'd been Kathryn, a vulnerable
woman capable of admitting her feelings and needs. As the years went
on, she'd lost that, becoming completely the captain- the protector,
the saviour, the mother, the disciplinarian, the scourge, the bitch. .
. . but never, somehow, only Kathryn.

The sound of her name roused her from her stupor, and she pulled
herself up, changing into loose, comfortable clothes, ready for a
relaxing evening at home with the man she loved.

As she went down the stairs, she remembered the aftermath of their
return.

The first thing she'd done when they were safely back in the Alpha
Quadrant- when all the hearings and review boards and disciplinary
proceedings were over, when at last she could proclaim that the
Voyager crew was indeed home- had been to visit the Doctor and demand
that he accelerate her hair growth, returning it to its original
length. The EMH had simply raised an eyebrow and complied with her
request.

The next day- Janeway's first as an Admiral- the Bun was back.

So was Kathryn.

A week later she and Chakotay had a long postponed talk.

Neither of them pulled any punches. Rank was irrelevant- Chakotay had
accepted the long-desired position of Anthropology professor at the
Academy. It was time.

A month later they moved in together.

They were home.

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The End