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Date: Tue, 22 Jun 2004 18:05:58 -0400
Subject: [ASCEM-S] NEW:  Ceremony:  The Admiral (VOY; J;  PG-13); 5/5
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Title:       Ceremony
Author:      Kelly [Chambliss]
Email:       rather_be_reading @ yahoo.com
Website:     http://appelsini.tripod.com/Kelly/
Series:      VOY
Codes:       Janeway and others
Rating:      PG-13
Part:        5/5
Posted:      June 22, 2004
Archive:     ASC(EM); BLTS; others please ask
Disclaimer:  All that is Trek belongs to Paramount.
Summary:     Captain Janeway gets promoted.


Part Five:
The Admiral

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

She attended the ceremony as she had attended most things since her
return from the Delta Quadrant:  with as little of her mind as
necessary.  The part of her that automatically furnished proper
responses and expected behaviors -- that part she was content to
relinquish to Starfleet.  But the rest she kept for herself.

It hadn't taken many days of the bureaucracy and politics of post-war
Starfleet to convince Kathryn Janeway that, whatever position she
might assume in the Fleet hierarchy, she would have to live her real
life somewhere else, outside the confines of the organization that
had once given meaning to her existence.

She had expected to be grieved at the loss of that meaning, but to
her surprise, she'd at first felt only relief -- and then, as she
realized how fully she'd made her escape, an overwhelming sense of
freedom.

Today, sitting at her promotion ceremony in what she trusted was a
suitably attentive pose, Kathryn tasted the tang of liberation once
again.  It wasn't that she despised Starfleet, or wished herself out
of it.  She simply no longer accorded it power over her, not in any
way that mattered.

Odd, she thought, as she surveyed the crowd:  instead of making her
feel isolated and indifferent, her new-found distance from the
organization gave her greater interest in the people who belonged to
it.

Owen Paris, now.  There he sat, his face bleak, trying not to look at
her.  He had been trying not to look at her ever since they had been
rescued from the Cardassians, all those years ago.  She wondered what
he would do if he knew that she had long recognized the guilt and
lust he tried so desperately to hide.  He'd probably look away from
her all the more.

And Chakotay.  He just tried to avoid her altogether.  She had
thought about telling him that he didn't need to, but then she'd
realized that perhaps he did.  The day he'd saluted her on the path --
  that was when it occurred to her that Chakotay needed his distance
just as she needed hers.  In the old days, she would simply have
rolled her eyes and pulled his arm down, and afterward, they would
have laughed together at the absurdity of it.

But the old days had been a long time ago.

She could hardly remember what they had been like, those days before
Scorpion and Kashyk and Ransom.  Before Seven.

Seven.  Kathryn looked obliquely down the row to where the former
Borg sat, her hands clasped, the sun glinting off her metal implant.
Janeway was glad she hadn't leaned forward quite far enough to see
that lovely face.

Sometimes she let herself remember the brief, glorious fantasies
she'd had on Voyager, when she had imagined the two of them having a
life together. . .

Ah, Seven, she thought now, what I wanted us be to each other. . .In
my crazier moments, I believe you wanted it, too.  I think you even
tried to tell me, that time we shared shore leave.  But I couldn't
let you, not then.  I told myself it was because the whole thing
would have been insanely inappropriate, and it would have, but the
truth was, I didn't want to risk losing you. . .I don't think I could
have borne that kind of hell. . .and that's what it would have
been. . .hell. . .

~~~ Kathryn ~~~

The word was a caress in her mind, and for a mad instant, she thought
it was Seven, calling her at last. . .

A quick glance at the impassive serenity of Seven's expression mocked
this wild surmise.  Janeway dropped her head to her hands and let the
regret sweep through her, but only for a moment.  Regret was
something else to be left behind.

The voice in her head spoke no more.  Since she'd briefly been Borg,
she sometimes experienced these random contacts; they meant little.
Kathryn smiled at Tuvok, who was watching her with Vulcan unease.
It's all right, my friend, she thought, hoping he was listening.

It's all right.


The End




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