II. The Waiting Ends
The first thing I saw was Kathryn’s eyes.
Three hours had passed since Tom and Harry had successfully returned with her, B’Elanna and Tuvok. This was the first chance I’d had to get down to sickbay. Although Kathryn’s gamble had paid off — the Borg had annihilated themselves — Voyager took a fair amount of damage in the final stand-off. I’d been needed on the bridge.
Or at least that’s where I thought I should be. It was only when Harry took the padd out of my hands that I realized how distracted I’d become.
“Commander,” he’d said, “all due respect, but I think we’ve got things under control up here. Why don’t you go down to sickbay.”
I’d raised a brow. “Already feeling the new rank, are you, Lieutenant?”
He’d smiled in response, but didn’t give the padd back. “Only being observant. I know you’re worried. Besides,” he added, fingering the second pip on his collar, “I’m not sure I want to be around when the captain finds out how you decided to surprise her.”
“So you’d prefer I go ahead and tell her in sickbay.”
“Well…yes.”
I’d laughed, but left the bridge. I didn’t go straight to sickbay, though. Instead, I got off the turbolift at deck two and stopped by my office.
Amazingly, the roses were still on the desk; the vase had stayed secure even though we’d taken quite a beating. I’d stared at them for a long moment. The yellow rose had opened up, but the pink one remained in a bud. They would survive a few more days.
Kathryn had held up her end of the promise and come back to Voyager; I was determined to hold up my end and give the roses back to her. Not just yet, though. Not until she had come completely back to us. To me.
Satisfied with the roses on my desk, I’d gone to the replicator and spoke a few words. Then I’d gotten back on the turbolift and gone to deck five, where sickbay was located.
When I walked through the door, the first thing I saw was Kathryn’s eyes.
Everything else faded away. I knew that we couldn’t possibly be alone — Tuvok and B’Elanna had to be in sickbay, too, and probably Tom and the doctor — but I wasn’t aware of anyone else. The only person I saw was Kathryn, lying on a bio-bed. Her skin was as pale as death and her hair was gone, but it was still her. It was still the same Kathryn staring out from behind the same eyes.
At that moment, I knew she would come completely back to Voyager, and soon. And I knew that something, some reality unacknowledged but inarguably present, had changed between us. That something would never be the same.
Kathryn moved an arm and reached toward me. Her lips soundlessly formed my name. In an instant, I was beside her, wrapping my hand around hers. “I’m here. How are you feeling?”
“She’ll be fine, but I haven’t managed to restore her vocal cords yet,” came a voice from her other side.
I looked up to see the doctor standing there, holding a medical instrument in mid-air; apparently I’d interrupted some procedure. I started to step away to let him finish, but Kathryn’s hand twisted, squeezing my fingers. I looked back down and was immediately caught in her eyes again.
“Can we have a few minutes?” I managed to ask.
Nodding slightly, the doctor moved toward another patient. Tuvok, I noticed absently.
Kathryn raised her other hand. She seemed to be reaching for my face, but the arm fell back weakly before she succeeded. I squeezed her hand again. “I’m glad you’re all right.”
She tried to say something, but I shook my head, not understanding. “You can tell me later. I’ll be here. Don’t exert yourself right now.”
Kathryn closed her eyes briefly and then opened them again. She mouthed my name once more, then something else, another word. This time, I understood.
Roses.
“They’re still alive,” I murmured. “And you’ll get them back. I promise. But for now…”
I picked up the hand that had fallen, and gently wrapped the fingers around the gift I’d replicated in my office. Since she didn’t have the strength, I lifted her hand to her face so she could see and smell and feel the single, new rose.
The petals were white, the color of purity, the color of strength. I’d had then tipped, though, in blue. The same blue as Kathryn’s eyes, the eyes that had haunted me in my dreams while she was gone, the eyes that met mine now.
Blue, she mouthed. She’d understood. I nodded. Blue is the color of healing.