The BLTS Archive- 0200: At the Night Owl
by monkee (wiecek@earthlink.net)

---

Author's Notes: This is a response to a Voyager-in-Gray challenge -
someone from Janeway's past meets her for lunch (or coffee, in this
case) after Voyager's return. What do they think of her?

Warning: This is primarily a J/Mark story, although there is just a
bit of J/C. I still have some hope that we'll see some significant J/C
before the end of the season, but in case we don't, I'm lowering my
expectations. Now I'll just be happy if a) Janeway is ALIVE when they
get home and b) she's happy. And, you know, Mark did seem like a
pretty nice guy.

---

Mark Johnson peered into the dark recesses of the coffeehouse, but she
wasn't here yet. Only a fraction of the tables were occupied. The
Night Owl had apparently fallen on hard times. It was clearly not the
Academy haunt that it once was - some other establishment must be in
favor with the late-night cadets these days. He was grateful, for her
sake, that it was even still open. He knew she would have been
disappointed if she'd come back to find it gone. He chose a small
table near the window and sat down to wait. He wanted to be able to
see her approach.

He had debated for days on whether or not to contact her at all. He
didn't even know where she was, for one thing, and he knew wherever
she was, she was busy. Starfleet had given the former Maquis on her
ship some trouble, and she had to have been subjected to many
debriefings. When he finally sent the message to her office at HQ, he
told himself that he just wanted to offer her his support. But the
truth was...he ached to see her, and had since he'd seen the first
newsvids of her.

'0200, at the Night Owl. -M,' was all he'd written, text only. He knew
she'd recognize the phrasing and the initial. When they'd been
together, it was a regular suggestion. He was surprised when she
responded within minutes - her traditional reply, 'I'll be there. -K.'

He waved off the waitress and stared out the window at the soft but
steady rain. The reflection of the streetlights shimmered on the wet
pavement. His focus shifted closer, and he tracked the progress of a
droplet of water moving down the glass of the window, joining with
other droplets until they formed a small rivulet and surged all the
way to the bottom. He checked the chronometer on the wall - 2:10. She
was late. The weather was bad. Perhaps she wasn't coming.

He turned back to the window and she was there, standing outside,
staring at him, getting wet. He felt lightheaded at her sudden
appearance; she'd been absent from his life all these years, and now
she was there, in the flesh. Without thinking, he reached out and
touched the glass between them. His motion seemed to shake her to her
senses, and, slowly, one side of her mouth quirked up. The familiarity
of the expression brought an unexpected lump to his throat. He hadn't
even tried to imagine how he would feel, seeing her again, and now he
was glad he hadn't. He couldn't have imagined the power of this
moment. She reached up to touch his hand against the window, then
froze. He knew they were both remembering the last time they'd seen
each other, when she'd reached for him through the monitor in her
ready room, just before Voyager had left for the badlands.

He saw her eyes fill with tears and the wrenchingly familiar
half-smile broadened into a full sentimental smile. She shook her head
and laughed, then she was through the door and over to the table,
embracing him warmly.

He was too overwhelmed to speak at first, so he just held her. When
they finally pulled apart, he just stared at her, grinning and shaking
his head.

"Kath," he managed to say, but he couldn't think of anything else. He
didn't know where to begin.

She brushed a tear from her eye. "Oh, Mark - I don't think I realized
until just now how much I missed you," she said, then added, hastily,
"I mean, I knew I missed you - or us, rather - but just...you. It's so
wonderful to see you again."

"I feel like I'm seeing a ghost," he laughed. He couldn't seem to stop
gawking and smiling at her. "I can't believe you're really here."

At this point, he noticed the waitress standing awkwardly by, so he
forced himself to concentrate briefly on practical matters. He took
her coat and hung it over the back of her chair, which he held out for
her while she sat down. As they settled in, he ordered Cappuccino for
himself and black Colombian for her, before it even occurred to him
that she might want anything else.

"I'm sorry," he said, after the waitress left.

"What for?" she asked, confused.

"I ordered for you. Maybe you didn't even want coffee," he said.

"Me? Not want coffee?" she laughed. "I haven't changed that much!"

"Colombian? Black?" he asked.

"How else?" she countered.

"Well," he said, wryly, "it's good to know that some things never
change."

But she had changed - he could see that right away. He'd already seen
it, in fact, in the newsvids. It wasn't so much her physical
appearance - she was still beautiful. She'd aged, of course, but her
beauty had never been the classical kind that showed in her features -
it was more in her eyes, an intensity, a passion that set her apart.
That beauty was still there, and would probably always be there, but
her eyes were also haunted, and he could see a hardness there that
hadn't been there before. It was different than the artificial kind of
hardness that she used to wear as a mask to official Starfleet
functions - this was deep-rooted and true. He couldn't fathom what
could have done this to her. Nothing had ever happened to him in his
life to offer him any insight into what she had been through. Except,
maybe, for losing her, seven years ago this month.

Initially, they just made casual small talk - about the Maquis trial,
and all of her own debriefings. She spoke matter-of-factly about it
all, but her frustration and exasperation came through. Someone else
might not have seen it, but he knew her well. Then she told him
something that completely floored him.

"You're leaving Starfleet?" he asked, incredulously.

"I spent the evening composing my letter of resignation. I haven't
turned it in yet, but I plan to tomorrow," she replied, calmly.

"Are you sure, Kath? I mean, shouldn't you think about it for a
while?" He had a sudden insight. "Oh, are they asking you to leave?"

"I half thought they might at times during the debriefings," she said,
with a wry smile. "But no, the truth is I came out relatively
unscathed. In fact, I could do anything I wanted in Starfleet at this
point, I think. Admiral Paris told me that they wanted to promote me.
Or I could have turned that down and continued as Captain on Voyager.
But I'm leaving."

There wasn't a trace of indecision in her demeanor, and it was all he
could do to keep his mouth from hanging open. "Kath," he said, "aren't
you being a bit impulsive here? You could simply ask for a leave of
absence until you decide."

She rolled her eyes. "But I have decided!" she said, emphatically.
"Why can't I make anyone understand this? I had this same conversation
with my mother last night! Mark, think about it - I spent seven years
trying to get back to Earth. Now that I'm here, I'd like to stay for a
while."

"You could stay here and still be with Starfleet, at Headquarters," he
pointed out.

She made a face. "No, I never wanted to be an Admiral. Just a Captain.
And I've done that now. I spent an entire lifetime as a Captain - at
least it felt like a lifetime. And to go back to being a normal
Starfleet Captain in the Alpha Quadrant - having to report back to
headquarters every day...I couldn't do that anymore. And frankly, I'm
just tired of it. The last seven years..." Her voice broke, slightly,
and the haunted look that hovered in her eyes now intensified.  It
broke his heart, that look. She pulled herself together quickly, as
always, though. "Let's just say that I'd rather not make any life and
death command decisions anymore," she concluded.

"But what will you do?" he asked, still trying to take it all in. The
thought of her resigning from Starfleet had shaken his sense of
reality. He would never have imagined her leaving.

"I'll go back into science and research," she said. "It was my first
love, anyway." She leaned across the table toward him and lowered her
voice, although there really wasn't anyone near enough to overhear
their conversation. "I've been offered the directorship of the
Atlantis Project," she confided, her eyes sparkling. "Their current
director is planning to resign - it's a tremendous opportunity."

He considered that for a moment, and had to agree. "It does seem like
the sort of thing that would appeal to you," he said. "But are you
sure you wouldn't just be some kind of figurehead?"

"They did admit that they needed a 'name,' but I'm convinced that it
would be more than that. And they know I wouldn't settle for anything
less," she said.

He nodded his head, beginning to see this future for her.

"How's your diving?" he asked.

She grimaced. "Rusty," she replied. "I'll have to work on that."

They both paused to sip their coffee. She set her cup down on the
table and wrapped her hands around it, relishing the warmth of it and
sighing. He smiled at the familiar gestures. She was normally very
businesslike with her coffee - it was a caffeine fix, nothing more.
But on the rare occasions when she allowed herself to relax with a
cup, it was a full, sensual experience for her. She drank it slowly
and savored the aroma. It was nice to see her relaxed. He suspected
she hadn't let her guard down much in recent years.

He was torn. He wanted to hear more about the Atlantis project - it
was at a crossroads, he knew, and he was curious as to how it was
going. And he loved seeing the enthusiasm in her eyes when she spoke
of it. But on the other hand, he also wanted to know more about her.
They were practically strangers - they had to get to know each other
all over again.

He met her eyes across the table. "How are you, Kath? I mean, in
general. Are you all right?"

"I think I will be," she said. "Now."

He hesitated briefly, then asked, "Are you seeing anyone?"

She looked momentarily surprised at the question, but then she smiled,
rather sadly, it seemed to him, and shook her head. "No...I'm...no,
not really," she said.

"Oh," he said. He hesitated again. "I just wondered...I mean, I
couldn't help noticing your first officer on the newsvids, and the way
you seemed with him."

She smiled again, and snorted with gentle amusement, rolling her eyes.
"God," she muttered. "I can't believe it was that obvious."

"Maybe only to someone who knows you well," he said.

She put her elbows on the table, and rested her chin on her hands.
"Chakotay," she said, with a slight smile. "We danced around each
other for seven years. I always thought that maybe, when we got
home...if we got home..." Her voice trailed off.

"I guess it just didn't work out that way?" he prompted.

"Well," she said, "as it turned out, we didn't wait until we got home.
Not quite, anyway." She stopped for a moment, considering him, but she
apparently decided that she was comfortable enough talking to him
about this.

"It was the last night - the night before we went through the
wormhole," she continued. "I went to him. I don't know why, really. I
couldn't NOT go to him. We'd been through so much...so much. It just
seemed like..." She stopped, lost in thought, a quadrant away.

"A celebration?" he ventured.

"No," she said, returning to the here and now. "A...culmination, I
think. A kind of resolution to our complicated relationship. I didn't
have anything in mind, really, when I went to him - didn't know how it
would all play out. But I think I knew, even then, that it was just
going to be that once. Maybe it was goodbye, even if I didn't realize
it at the time. It was...wonderful - beautiful, really, but it
couldn't last. I could see that."

"Did he?" he asked.

"Not at first. It took him a little longer to figure it out," she
said. "I don't think he understood until we'd been back for a couple
of days, and he saw me back in my element." She paused, once again
fingering her coffee cup. It was nearly empty, he noticed.

"I love him," she said. "And I always, always will. We lived through
something extraordinary together. But I don't think we belong together
in the long run. Does that make sense?"

He nodded, because it did. She continued.

"He wants nothing more than to settle down someplace remote and just -
I don't know - live out the rest of his life in peace, I guess. I
can't do that. I need stimulation, noise, lights, restaurants..." She
glanced around at the Night Owl, then added, "Coffee shops!"

Across the room, the waitress saw her look around, and,
misinterpreting it, hurried over with a coffeepot to refill her cup.
Kathryn smiled and shrugged, but didn't refuse the coffee, either. The
waitress offered to top his cup off, too, but he shook her off. They
waited until she left, then resumed their conversation.

"What is he going to do?" Mark asked.

"Chakotay? The planet he grew up on is back in Federation hands," she
said. "He left a couple of days ago to help with the rebuilding. He
doesn't have any family there anymore, but I know he feels a strong
connection to the land." She circled her hands around her coffee cup
again, and sat for a moment, staring at it, thoughtfully. "He'll be
all right," she said, smiling. "He's where he belongs, and so am I."

Abruptly, she moved forward again, propping her chin back up on her
elbows. "Mark," she said, "I'm awfully tired of talking about myself.
Tell me how you are! Are you still with the Questor group? How is it?
Tell me about your wife. You can talk to me about her, you know. It's
all right."

He rubbed his forehead and looked down at the table. He'd known that
she didn't know, so why was he surprised? After all, he hadn't ever
told Gretchen or Phoebe. He took a deep breath, and braced himself for
a difficult conversation.

"Actually," he said, awkwardly, "she and I divorced. About two years
ago."

She sat back in her chair, stunned and instantly tense. The
revelation, he knew, changed the whole nature of their meeting, and he
didn't want it to.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, quietly. "You should have told me
when it happened. Or at least as soon as you saw me. We've been
sitting here for 45 minutes, Mark."

"I didn't want to make you uncomfortable," he said, quickly, holding
up his hand. "What was I supposed to say, 'Hi Kath, nice to see you.
By the way, I'm divorced!'"

She snorted softly, and smiled a little.

"I didn't know anything about your life. I didn't know if you had
moved on, too," he explained. "And even if you hadn't, I didn't want
you to think I expected anything of you, then or now. I know you've
changed. I know everything has. Do you understand why I didn't want to
tell you?"

"I guess so," she said. "Damn." She stared grimly down at her hands.
"What happened?" she asked.

"Things started to fall apart shortly after we found out that you were
still alive," he admitted, reluctantly. She winced and he knew this
was just one more thing she'd feel guilty about, but he owed her the
truth. "I tried to reassure her," he said. "I told her you were still
decades away, and that my life was with her now, but the truth was
that I did have mixed feelings, and she sensed that. She was part
Betazed; she could tell that I was torn - that part of me still loved
you. So, we split up. It was very amicable, all things considered."

"God, Mark," she said, sadly. "I'm so sorry."

"It's all right, Kath," he said. "It was just...circumstances, that's
all. You shouldn't feel responsible."

"I know," she sighed. "But what a mess."

She looked so unhappy, and he didn't want her to be. "Listen," he
said, and this time he was the one who moved forward and leaned on his
elbows on the table, "can we please talk about something else.
Please?"

She smiled crookedly at him, and nodded.

"Maybe we could talk about when you're going to come and pick up that
big, hairy dog of yours," he suggested, with a grin.

"Oh, Bear!" she said, with a momentary flash of excitement in her
eyes. Then she reigned in her enthusiasm, and said, "Maybe you'd
better keep her, Mark. She probably doesn't even remember me."

"Are you kidding? I swear to God the dog still looks out the window
for you, Kath.  I'm sure she'll remember you," he assured her.

"You think?" she said, and again he could see the spark in her eye.
"Maybe..." she said. "Now that I'm going to be on Earth, it might be
nice...I missed her so much."

"She's all yours, then," he said. "But I can't let you have Katie. I
kept one of the puppies, you know. I've gotten kind of attached to
her."

Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped open. "You did not name a dog
after me," she said, sternly. "Mark, tell me that you didn't name a
dog after me."

"It seemed the logical thing to do at the time," he said, with as much
dignity as he could muster.

"Oh Mark," she groaned, "I can't believe you."

"Hey," he said, defensively. "Try to remember that I was half blind
with grief at the time!"

She chuckled and smiled at him affectionately. And then the ice was
broken. They'd gotten caught up, and had exchanged all the important
information, and now they could just talk. Now he did ask her more
about the Atlantis project, and he told her about the past seven years
in the Questor Group, which had been dynamic, thanks to the moral and
ethical debates surrounding the war. They spoke of mutual
acquaintances and laughed, and the years began to fall away. He knew
it was an illusion - that she'd been through a lot, that she'd never
be the same. But he couldn't shake the feeling that, deep down, she
was the same - the same girl, the same teenager, the same woman that
he'd known all his life. She may have lived another lifetime in the
years that they'd been apart, but she was still Kathryn Janeway. And
he was still helplessly, hopelessly in love with her.

It was almost surreal the way they were falling back into familiarity
- it was as if she'd been gone for only a few weeks. Everything felt
the same - the looks, the ease of conversation, the little touches...

Laughing at one point, and without thinking, she reached out and
touched his hand. They both stilled at the contact. Neither of them
pulled away, however, and he shifted until he was lightly holding her
fingers. They both stared silently at their joined hands.

"Mark," she said, softly, uncertainly.

"I don't expect anything of you, Kath, really," he said.

"I know you don't," she replied. "You shouldn't. But...tell me what
you want."

"Since I hadn't been in touch with you, and didn't know anything about
you, I didn't even allow myself to think about this," he said. "But I
still feel a strong connection to you. I'd like to be a part of your
life again."

She said nothing for a few moments, then looked up at him. "I want to
go home with you tonight," she said, quietly. "I want to be with you.
I feel the connection too, and -oh, I've missed it so much. I've
missed you - missed making love with you, missed just talking to you.
And I've been so lonely. Sometimes, I swear, I thought the loneliness
would kill me." She paused for a moment, absently rubbing his hand as
he held his breath. Then she spoke again.  "I can't make you any
promises, Mark. I feel like my life has been shaken up and tossed into
the air, and nothing's settled back down yet. Can you do this? Can you
just take it day by day with me?"

He closed his eyes briefly, then lifted her hand to his lips and
kissed her fingers. "I can," he said. "I can do that." He was feeling
nearly overwhelmed by events. He hadn't even dared to hope for this
outcome, and he was so surprised. So incredibly happy.

"Kath," he told her, "let's get the hell out of here, okay?"

She grinned and beckoned their waitress over to the table.

Any reasonable person would have advised them to wait. Any reasonable
person would have told them that it was too soon, they shouldn't be
making this decision now, they were asking for trouble. But his reason
had a way of disappearing when Kathryn Janeway was involved. And he
was pleased to see that, at least for now, her reason had abandoned
her, too.

Later, as they walked back to his apartment, she pulled him into a
darkened side street. The rain had stopped, but the streets still
glistened. He kissed her - pressed her back against wet brick - and it
was both familiar, and all new. He moved his hands from her waist over
her ribs, skimming the side of her breast with his thumb, and her
body, initially strange to him, began to re-conform to his memories.
It was giddy, and vaguely dangerous, but it felt good. It felt right.
It felt, perhaps, like a new beginning.

---

The End