Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The bell over the shop door jingled as the man pulled the door closed after himself, leaving Kathryn alone once more in the warmth of the small bookstore. Through the glass and peeling gold letters on the shop door, she watched her customer cross the street and get into his car. The street lamps, beginning to glow in the fading afternoon light, bathed the snow-covered sidewalks in a warm haze. The forecast had called for a storm later, and it was already dark enough that Kathryn could tell it was coming soon. It was nearing four thirty: too early to take Molly out for the evening, but neither one of them would want to go out once the storm rolled in. And judging by the forecast and the rapidly darkening sky, it wouldn’t let up until well into the night.

With a sigh she toed off her warm UGGs and jammed her feet into her snow boots that she kept under the counter while she was working.

“Molly, come,” she called as she pulled her coat off the rack near the door to the small back room.

Obedient but displeased at being roused from her warm bed, Molly rose and stretched slowly before ambling out of the back room.

“You’ll thank me later when the storm rolls in,” Kathryn told the Irish Setter and rammed her hat onto her head.

Clipping the leash to Molly’s collar, Kathryn slipped on her gloves and hurriedly led Molly outside and across the street to the small town square. The square was currently covered in a fluffy blanket of snow, but in the summer it was a town favorite for picnics or lazy afternoons in the sun. The gazebo and the four paths leading to it were shoveled and salted against ice, but the fairy lights decorating the old structure were mostly obscured by the snow still covering the roof and railings. Someone had tied garlands and big, red bows to the posts.

Normally, Kathryn loved the look of the gazebo at Christmas time. She would smile every time she looked out the frosted windows of her shop and see the decorated gazebo across the street. Usually, on Christmas Eve, carolers would gather in the gazebo for a town concert, but with the storm headed in, the event had been canceled. Kathryn didn’t think she was sorry about that.

Now that she was outside, Molly would have been content to romp around in the snow for an hour, but Kathryn was cold, and the shop wasn’t technically closed yet. Though, no one is likely to be coming in at this hour anyway, she thought. Even so, she tugged Molly’s leash and led her back inside. After wiping Molly’s paws, Kathryn pulled off her hat and coat, and changed back into her slippers. She had half an hour left before she would close the shop. She should have reduced the stores hours like she usually did, but this year, she hadn’t seen the point.

She would go to her mother’s house tomorrow morning for Christmas brunch and stay for dinner as she did every year, but Christmas Eve was not a big deal in her family, and she was loath to spend any more time around her mother this holiday than she was obligated to after the disaster that had been Thanksgiving.

Her mother had yet to forgive her for breaking it off with her fiancé earlier this year.  Oh, Gretchen would never say anything out loud on the subject, but clearly the woman disparaged the fact that her eldest daughter was yet unmarried. Kathryn had come close with Mark, and after five years together, everyone, including Kathryn, had thought they’d be tying the knot sooner rather than later.

Clearly not, Kathryn grumbled to herself.

Mark had dreams and plans, neither of which had involved her. And so, single, Kathryn had nowhere to be on this dreary Christmas Eve and a little extra work was far more appealing than listening to her mother remind her, again, that she was pushing forty and had yet to produce any grandchildren, and didn’t she know she was running out of time?

Chin in hand and eyes on the clock, Kathryn started when the bell over the door jingled again. The first thing Kathryn noticed about the man who walked into her store was that he was clearly not from around here. He wore a dark grey pea coat, plaid scarf, black slacks, and shoes no Indianan would be caught dead wearing outside in winter. He wasn’t wearing a hat, but even if he had been, his copper skin would have told her his hair was black. The grey dusting his close cropped hair was attractive, she thought as she watched him wipe his feet on the mat. As soon as he shut the door, he blew on to his gloveless hands and vigorously rubbed them together in an effort to warm them, before shoving them into his coat pockets.

Tourists are so cute, Kathryn thought.

“Hi,” she greeted warmly. “Let me know if there’s anything I can help you with.”

The stranger took a couple tentative steps into the store and smiled sheepishly. As he looked around he removed one hand from his pocket and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m, uh, looking for a gift. For my girlfriend.”

“A bit last minute.” Kathryn knew she shouldn’t tease him about messing up, but she couldn’t help it. Besides, he was doing a right good job of it himself.

He dropped his hand. “Yeah. I accidentally left her gift on the counter at home. I just flew in from San Francisco,” he explained. “We’re in town visiting her parents for the holiday.”

That explained his poor clothing choices.

“What does she like to read?” Kathryn asked.

The stranger shifted awkwardly and reached up to tug on his earlobe. “Uh, she doesn’t.”

Kathryn frowned, but she kept her tone light enough that he would know she was still teasing when she said, “You are aware that you are in a bookstore, right?” 

His hand fell again and he rubbed his foot on the carpeting. “I didn’t realize I’d left the gift until I got here and you’re the only place still open,” he explained.

Kathryn wasn’t surprised no other store on the small Main Street shopping mall was open. Usually, the entire town closed up early for the holiday.

“I’m sure she’ll understand,” Kathryn said sympathetically.

He huffed something that was between a laugh and a snort. “No, she wont.”

Kathryn wasn’t sure how to take that statement. She was about to probe further when he continued.

“And besides, I was going to propose. But seeing as I forgot the ring…” He shrugged and lifted his hands in a gesture of defeat.

Kathryn thought that his tone was almost accusatory, but more interesting than his self-deprecation was how disappointing she found that bit of information. Inwardly she frowned. She didn’t even know this man. Sure he was somewhat handsome... Ok he was very handsome, she thought studying his full lips and the dimple in his chin. But she wasn’t looking for anything casual and certainly not otherwise—even if he weren’t practically engaged. And most definitely not with a tourist who would be gone after the holiday. She had no right to feel anything about his relationship status, much less disappointment.  

Thankfully, stronger than her disappointment at a handsome tourist’s impending engagement was Kathryn’s desire to save him from the embarrassment of not having a gift for is girlfriend. And clearly he was in distress. A proposal was not the kind of gift that could come late. And if it were to be a Christmas gift, he couldn’t do it without the ring.

“Anyway,” the man continued, “I saw the microscopes in the window…” he gestured to the window display where Kathryn had placed her antique microscopes and brass telescope among some fancy, leather-bound copies of several popular science-fiction novels.

Finally, Kathryn found her voice. “Is she into science?”

“She works in bio-tech.”

“Oh,” was all Kathryn could say.

Before taking over Voyager Books eight years ago, Kathryn had also worked in bio-tech. She didn’t regret her decision to quit her former job, but she missed science dearly. A fact that was evident in the slow change to the subject matter of the majority  of the books sold at Voyager Books. The coincidence was hardly the other woman’s fault, but combined with the man’s earlier insistence that she would not understand his forgetfulness, Kathryn felt the stirrings of unjustified jealousy in her chest. She forced it down before she could begin to feel sorry for herself. Shehad made the decision to quit her old job. She had chosen to stay in Indiana rather than follow Mark to New York. Shehad chosen to break off her engagement. There was no sense in getting jealous over someone else’s life when she’d consciously walked away from that same life.

Mentally shaking her head to clear it, Kathryn pressed, “What are her other interests?”

“Uh…” he reached back to rub at his neck again.

Kathryn narrowed her eyes at him, her earlier attraction for the man in front of her waning as it became clear that he did not know enough about his soon-to-be-fiancé to buy her a Christmas gift.

At her look, the man dropped his hand and sighed. “She works a lot. She loves her job.” He shrugged, and Kathryn thought he sounded almost defeated.

She nodded in reply, having no choice but to take him at his word.

“She likes wine…” the man offered.

“I don’t have any books on wine,” Kathryn replied, dashing his hope. She’d had one come in, but it was purchased last week. “Any tv shows or sports she’s interested in?”

Even before she’d finished, the man was shaking his head.

“Pets?”

Another head shake.

“What does she do in her spare time?”

“Researches her field, or her competitors. That sort of thing. Anything else is an ‘inefficient use of her time.’” He didn’t use air quotes around that last phrase, but he didn’t need to, his tone pitched high enough and the words robotic enough that Kathryn could tell this was probably a point of contention between them.  

Kathryn was ready to offer the man her computer so he could print a gift certificate when he said shyly, “She’s really hard to shop for.”

Kathryn could see why he decided to propose as a gift: his girlfriend sounded impossible. But she couldn’t say anything about it. She decided to save the gift certificate idea as a last resort and instead led him over to the non-fiction side of the store. She started in biography, eying the many titles about influential scientists. Her fingers lay on a biography of Gregor Mendel before she realized that biographies were only read by a particular type of reader. Gifting one to a person who didn’t read outside of research for work would most likely not be appreciated. She released the book and walked over to the aisle that contained books on biological sciences. While she considered the titles on the shelf, her customer began to pull books out at random to look at them.

“Two-thousand dollars!” he exclaimed suddenly.

Kathryn, holding a copy of On the Origin of Species poised on the edge of the shelf, turned to look at him. He was looking at the end page of The Silent Spring where Kathryn had delicately penciled the price.

“It’s a first edition,” she explained.

He looked at her, mouth agape. “And that matters?”

“Only to book people,” Kathryn said and pushed Darwin back into place. “To your girlfriend? Probably not.” Kathryn wasn’t sure who the frustrated edge in her voice was directed at, the stranger in the aisle with her, or his girlfriend who worked too much. Then she chastised herself. It wasn’t his fault—well, actually, it was his fault for forgetting a gift. Kathryn sighed, defeated. “If she doesn’t like to read, I don’t think anything I have here will be very appealing.”

“She reads a lot of journals and academic papers for work.”

At the mention of academic papers, Kathryn had an epiphany. “I think I have just the thing actually. Follow me.”

She could feel the bubble of giddiness growing in her chest as she led him back to the front of the store and into the back room. Molly sat up when they passed her bed and the man paused to crouch and offer her his hand to sniff. Too excited to pay attention to him, Kathryn walked straight to the piles of old periodicals stacked on the back shelf. She hauled several stacks onto the table in the center of the room and began rifling through them.

“The college in Bloomington culled their stacks last year and they were going to recycle all these since they are now available online. I asked to purchase some of the more influential ones, and they gave me the entire collection for free. I haven’t had time to go through them yet to find the ones that actually have any historical value, but I know there’s a copy of Nature in here that she will appreciate.”

At his silence, Kathryn looked up from the periodicals strewn about the table to find the man staring up at her from where he remained crouched at Molly’s side, petting her head. The smile he was giving her was brilliant and she felt herself flush under his gaze.

“What?”

Smile still in place, he shook his head. “I’ve never seen someone get so excited about old paper before.”

Kathryn’s cheeks heated further and she quickly looked back down at the journals. “It’s not just old paper,” she grumbled, but her heart wasn’t fully in the retort. To Kathryn, these journals were history. At least most of them anyway.

A shadow fell across the scattered periodicals and Kathryn looked up to see her customer standing before her reaching for the journal on top of the next stack. “What are we looking for exactly?” he asked.

“A copy of Nature from nineteen-fifty…three, I think.”

“And what’s in this particular copy?”

“A paper by Watson and Crick that was very influential on the field of molecular biology.”

They were silent for a moment as they picked up and discarded journal after journal.

“I found one,” said the stranger. “Actually I found two. No, make that four from nineteen-fifty-three.”

Kathryn snatched them from his hand and flipped through the contents of each. “Ah-ha!” she exclaimed when she found the article in question. ‘Molecular Structure of Nucleic Acids: A Structure for Deoxyribonucleic Acid’ by Watson and Crick.” She beamed at the man across from her.

“I have no idea what you just said,” he relied with a smile.

“She’ll get it,” Kathryn said and couldn’t help her growing smile even though she had already decided she didn’t like the woman the journal was going to. The best part of working in a bookstore was helping a customer find that perfect book. Or periodical, in this case.

Kathryn picked out a couple more periodicals that contained influential or important articles on biology, genomics, or cellular biology. The tourist had tried to help, but Kathryn found him to be endearingly useless at discerning the important articles. Still, he helped her rifle through the stacks of periodicals until she was satisfied with the gift. Then she bound them in plain brown packing paper and tied the package with simple brown twine.

“Sorry it’s not more festive,” she said of her wrapping.

“This is perfect,” the man replied. “I can’t thank you enough for your help.”

She waved him off. “It was my pleasure.”

She led him out of the back room and into the main area of the shop.

“How much do I owe you?” he asked.

Kathryn considered it for a moment. She hadn’t put the journals into the system yet so she had no price for them. They were all fairly worthless to anyone not a collector or lover of scientific history. But she didn’t think he would take them for free.

“Ten dollars,” she said.

While the man retrieved his wallet from his coat pocket, a sudden rattling of the door drew Kathryn’s attention. The storm had rolled in while they were shopping. She glanced at the clock noting that it was well past five. She hadn’t realized just how long they spent looking through periodicals, but in the meantime, the storm had come in and turned into a blizzard. The roaring wind rattled the door once more. Outside the windows, snow was swirling in thick eddies making it impossible to see across the street. In fact, all Kathryn could see was white. No cars, no lamp posts, nothing but white.

She was suddenly very happy that she lived upstairs.

Her customer handed her a ten dollar bill. She took it and slipped it into the register and handed him his receipt. Then she slipped a bookmark and a business card beneath the twine wrapping the journals.

“Do you have far to go?” she asked.

“Streator.”

Kathryn’s eye’s widened in disbelief. Surely he didn’t mean to... “That’s nearly twenty miles!” she exclaimed far louder than she’d intended. “You can’t go that far in this.” She pointed outside like he couldn’t already tell that it was blizzarding.

“I don’t really have a choice,” he said, his voice tinged with humor.

Kathryn eyed him and his shoes and his gloveless hands. “Have you ever driven in a blizzard before?”

“No.” He looked as if he were wondering why that would be an issue.

“What kind of car are you driving?”

“An Impreza.”

Kathryn bit her lip, considering. Even with four-wheel drive, she wouldn’t risk driving in this weather for anything short of a life-threatening emergency, and she’d been driving in snow most of her life. She could not in good conscience let a tourist drive off in a rental car he could very well high center or crash on the highway.

“It’s really not safe out there right now,” she said. Winter roads were dangerous enough on a clear day. With visibility at zero, they would be a death trap. “You are welcome to wait out the worst of it here.”

The stranger turned to the window and considered the weather. After a moment he released what sounded like a defeated sigh. “I think you’re right. Let me just give them a call.” He reached into his pocket for his cell phone and stepped away.

Kathryn tried not to listen but given their proximity, it was impossible not to overhear him on the phone with whom she took to be his girlfriend as she flipped the window sign to “Closed” and locked up the shop.

“I’m, uh, going to be late… I don’t know. I’m going to have to wait out the storm… Yep… A used bookstore… Yes… Ok. I’ll call you when I head out… Love you. Bye.”

When she turned around, she found him looking at her with that sheepish smile and she realized, now that she had locked herself in the store with him, that she knew nothing about this man other than the fact that he didn’t know how to dress for winter in Indiana. She didn’t even know his name, much less what she was going to do with him for the hours it would take the storm to pass.

As if he was thinking along the same lines, he said, “I guess if we are going to be here together for a while, we should introduce ourselves. I’m Chakotay.” He held out his hand for her to shake though Kathryn was still several feet away at the door.

She mentally shook herself from her thoughts and cleared her throat. “Kathryn,” she said as she quickly stepped forward and took his hand.

His hand was warm, and large, and roughened from some sort of manual labor, and Kathryn wondered what he did for a living. He was too well dressed for blue collar work, but he could have dressed up for dinner or church in Streator.

“I hope I’m not intruding on your plans,” he said.

Kathryn waved his worry away with a flick of her wrist. “Can I take your coat?”

He started as if he had forgotten that he was still wearing it. “Oh, thanks,” he said and began to unbutton his coat.

“My family is getting together tomorrow,” Kathryn explained as he slipped out of his pea coat. She immediately wished she hadn’t offered because she was met with a burgundy sweater stretched tight over well defined pectorals and Kathryn never wanted to look away. It really wasn’t fair that he was this good looking and unavailable.

Rough wool brushing against her outstretched hand drew her out of her fantasy before she could start drooling. She clenched her fist around the coat and quickly escaped to hang it next to her own on the rack. “And besides,” she said in an attempt to cover up her ogling, “I’m the one who insisted that you stay.” She tossed him a smile over her shoulder, but that proved to be a mistake because he was leaning against the sale counter and giving her the most dazzling smile. Kathryn blushed and concentrated on his coat and scarf.

He’s as good as engaged, she thought, berating herself.

“Do you get blizzards often?” Chakotay asked, drawing her attention once more.

“Every so often,” she told the dark wool.

Get a grip, she told herself in the ensuing silence. He talked about the weather, now it’s your turn to contribute some innocuous tourist question.

When his coat and scarf were perfectly draped, she forced herself to smile and face him. “So,” she said, “is this your first time in Indiana?”

“Yes.”

“How long are you in town for?”

“Just the week.”

“Do you have any big plans while you’re here?”

Chakotay shrugged. “Not really. I mostly wanted to get to know Annika’s parents.”

“Well, Bloomington has some great museums and galleries, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

Kathryn didn’t miss Chakotay’s eyes brightening at her mention of museums. “Really?”

“Mmhmm. I used to make my dad take me to the science museum every summer when I was a kid.” She chuckled at the memory of dragging her father by the hand through the museum as she raced from exhibit to exhibit. “I practically lived there!”

Chakotay laughed softly along with her, a rich sound Kathryn wanted to hear again. “I’ll look into it. Annika is always saying that Indiana has no culture.”

Kathryn scoffed, trying, but failing, to not take offense. “I guess it depends on your definition of culture.” Her movements were a little more forceful than necessary as she began to close out the register for the evening.

Chakotay, wisely, didn’t try to salvage the line of conversation. “How long have you owned this store?”

Kathryn’s hands froze as she thought about it. “Oh, about eight years now.” She didn’t offer any more information than that. Her unexpected career change was not something she wanted to get into with a stranger. But the silence that followed as she resumed counting cash was uncomfortable. She tried to ignore it, and Chakotay had begun to aimlessly peruse the displays near the counter. But when the cash was safely locked in the safe and the register closed out of the night, Kathryn couldn’t ignore the awkward silence anymore.

“So,” she started hesitantly, “does your girlfriend live in San Francisco, too?”

Chakotay replaced the book he had been reading. “Yes. But she can work remote during the holidays so she flew in earlier. I had classes until yesterday so I flew in today.”

“Classes?”

“I teach at several of the local colleges,” he explained.

“What do you teach?”

“Anthropology and archeology.”

“Like Indiana Jones?” It was the only reference Kathryn had to the field of archeology.

He laughed softly. “Not exactly. A little less Temple of Doom, but yeah. Something like that.”

“Sounds fun.”

“It is. I don’t spend as much time in the field as I used to, but I still get out there every chance I get.”

The flow of conversation faltered once more and this time Kathryn blamed it on Chakotay’s smile and told herself that as soon as the holiday was over, she’d go on a date. Perhaps she’d even let Phoebe make her an online dating profile because clearly it’d been too long since she’d held an intelligent conversation with a man.

“I’m sorry I don’t have any chairs,” she said lamely.

“Don’t worry about it,” Chakotay replied. “I’ve been sitting on planes all day.” He turned to the window and watched the snow swirling for a moment. “How long do these storms typically last?”

“It depends. The storm will probably last all night, but it might get better in an hour or so.” An hour or so before she’d have to decide to either leave him down here for the night or invite him to her place. And she wasn’t sure if she was entirely comfortable inviting him to her apartment just yet.

After a moment she added, “I’m sorry your plans are ruined,” because it sounded like something she should say.

His responding sigh was heavy. “I had hoped to make a good impression, but that seems impossible now.” He huffed a humorless laugh as he turned back around. “The forgetfulness is my fault, but there’s nothing to be done about the weather. Even so, I guess it’s better to arrive in one piece.”

Kathryn internally winced at his phrasing but nodded in agreement. “If you weren’t here, what would you normally be doing on Christmas Eve?”

Chakotay moved back over towards the counter. “Not much. The last few years have been just Annika and me.”

“What about when you were a kid? Any family traditions?”

This time, there was humor in his laugh. When Kathryn raised a brow in question, Chakotay explained, “I grew up on the reservation.”

But that didn’t explain anything for Kathryn who knew nothing about Native American reservations. “What was that like?”

“Poor…”

Kathryn listened with rapt attention and piqued curiosity as Chakotay told her about his life growing up. About his father, a teacher, his mother who was always in the kitchen, and his sister who had all the boys wrapped around her finger. He had a natural gift for story-telling, and it was easy to imagine him growing up in his childhood home.

His family had been poor in funds but rich in love. His father, she learned, loved the land and his people. He did his best to instill in his children that same respect for the earth and pride for their heritage. Chakotay could still remember listening to stories of their ancestors and tribal legends at his father’s knee, or asking for stories of Coyote at bedtime. He could still remember the tribal ceremonies, watching his father don the traditional dress and dance the ancient steps with the other elders. As a child, he had been fascinated, proud, eager to participate and to follow in his father’s footsteps. But as a teenager, Chakotay began to rebel against everything his father held dear.

Chakotay’s sister married into the tribe and still lived on the reservation with her husband and two children. But Chakotay left the reservation the first chance he got. He hated the poverty, the addiction, the lack of opportunity. He went to college on scholarship with no direction or true passion. Eventually his father’s stories and love of the past caught up to him because he ended up majoring in anthropology and archaeology. After getting his Masters degree and teaching for a few years, he went on to get his doctorate, and ended up in California.

His anger and pride had kept him estranged from his family for nearly two decades. A rift he’d recently begun to mend.

Somehow, as he talked, they ended up seated on the floor in front of the counter. Eventually Molly ambled over and for a while was content to let Chakotay scratch her ears while he talked. But a restless whine caused Kathryn to look at the time. It was after six-thirty and Molly was impatient for her dinner. A grumble in her own stomach told her she needed to feed herself and Chakotay, too.

Outside, the storm had not calmed. The wind was still howling and even in the dark, the air was thick with snow. But she noticed that her earlier hesitancy was gone when she asked, “Would you like to come up for dinner?”

Chapter Text

Kathryn lived in the tiny studio apartment above the bookstore. Chakotay shouldn’t have been surprised since she hadn’t seemed worried about walking or driving home in the blizzard, but he was nonetheless taken aback when, after closing up the store, she began to lead him up the narrow stairs to the left of the shop entrance. Though it was small, even by Bay Area standards, and furnished with items one step above second-hand, the apartment was neat and tidy except for the small bookcase next to the television which was crammed so full of books the sagging shelves were held up only by the books beneath them. Chakotay smiled at the sight.

“I know it’s not much,” he heard her say from behind him.

“It’s lovely,” he said.

To his left was a small kitchen and a smaller dining set. A worn sofa just barely larger than a loveseat separated the kitchen area from the living area where a green plaid dog bed lay in front of the television console along with a small basket of dog toys. Further back was a wrought-iron queen-sized bed made up with white sheets and a fluffy duvet. A single window overlooked Main street, though, at the moment, Chakotay could see nothing but snow.

“It was supposed to be temporary…” Chakotay could hear the shy embarrassment in Kathryn’s voice as she scrutinized her own home.

He could tell there was a story behind those words, and he wanted to hear it, but before he could ask she said, “Make yourself at home,” and waved him to the couch.

Already he could tell that Kathryn was a very private person. Every time he asked a personal question, she clammed up. So he knew that if he wanted the story about her living arrangements, he’d have to get there the long way.

And so, he did exactly what she’d said and took a seat on the couch, but instead of facing the television, he angled himself so he could watch her in the kitchen as she filled a pot with water and set it on the stove. Then she filled a steel bowl, labeled with fat white letters spelling MOLLY, with dog food and set it on the ground next to a matching water dish. Molly, who had been waiting patiently next to her bowls since they walked in, wasted no time in digging into her dinner.

While the water heated, Kathryn began retrieving items from a cupboard: a package of spaghetti, a jar of pasta sauce, a bottle of red wine. She opened and stared into the freezer for a moment before closing it and getting a small tub of shredded Parmesan cheese from the fridge.

The sound of the sauce jar decompressing was loud in the silence of the apartment, as was the clanging of the metal spoon against the glass as she scraped it clean into the saucepan. The pot of water began to boil and Chakotay winced when she broke the dry spaghetti in half and dropped the pieces into the unsalted, oil-less water before turning her attention to uncorking the bottle of wine.

Chakotay wanted to stir the pasta, maybe raid her spice cabinet and turn that sauce into something edible. But he didn’t want to insult her. And besides, he was hungry enough that he probably wouldn’t taste any of it anyway. His flight from San Francisco had taken off late, which meant that instead of getting lunch in Denver, he’d had to race through the airport to make his connection. So the last thing he’d had to eat since breakfast had been eight pretzels somewhere over Nebraska.

When he heard the clattering of plates and the clinking of silverware, he stood and stepped into the kitchen. “Can I help?”

She handed him the stack of plates topped with two red paper napkins and two forks. “You can set the table.”

The small dining table was round, surrounded by four mismatched chairs of various colors. Chakotay set two places across from each other while Kathryn filled two glasses with water from the tap and passed them to him to set out. Next, she passed him a glass of wine and the bottle. A second glass sat on the counter next to the stove.  

“Sorry it’s not Napa,” she said.

Chakotay eyed the bottle of generic red table wine as he set it on the table. It was not a label he recognized. “Napa is overrated,” he replied.

Over the rim of her own glass, Chakotay saw her disbelief.

Chakotay shrugged in explanation. “It’s overpriced and overrun by snobby tourists. You can get just as good of wine for less than half the price in Healdsburg.”

“Is that so?”

He nodded, then placed a finger to his lips and winked. “Shh. Don’t tell the tourists.”

Kathryn laughed and Chakotay swore his heart stopped. Kathryn had a voice like whiskey on the rocks and a laugh to match. He thought he would never get tired of hearing her speak. Combined with her piercing blue eyes and beautiful smile…

Chakotay loved Annika, but he would have to be blind to not notice Kathryn Janeway. Where Annika was nearly as tall as him—even without the heels she always wore—Kathryn’s head barely reached his chin as she padded around the kitchen in her slipper-boots, straining the pasta and transferring their meal to a serving bowl. Her slender frame was hidden beneath the chunky sweater that came nearly to her thighs, and her long legs were encased in skintight denim. She’d piled her long, auburn hair onto her head while she cooked, the messy mass secured by a single clip Chakotay thought looked like a toucan’s beak. Annika usually kept her blonde hair secured in a severe twist for “efficiency,” but Chakotay preferred it when she wore it down, or when it framed her face on her pillow. And where Annika was a bombshell beauty who Chakotay still sometimes considered out of his league, Kathryn’s beauty was classic, like an Old Hollywood movie star.

Chakotay mentally berated himself for drawing the comparison. Neither woman deserved that. And yet, he couldn’t help but remember the way Kathryn’s cheeks flushed when he’d smiled at her downstairs; the way her eyes brightened when she used those big, convoluted science words; and her genuine curiosity when she asked about his childhood. That’s what had drawn the comparison in the first place, he realized. No one, not even Annika, knew so much about his past. It wasn’t something he talked about, and Annika never asked.

But Kathryn did. And not because they were on some awkward first date and trying to fill the silence between them—okay, they had been awkwardly forced to endure each other’s presence for the time being. But Kathryn genuinely wanted to know about him. And when he spoke, she listened. Not the multi-tasking listening without eye contact that Annika had come to employ, filled with uh-huhs, laughter initiated only because he was laughing first, and thoughtless nods of agreement, but genuine active listening peppered with curious and probing questions.

Annika had never been big on small talk, and at first, Chakotay hadn’t minded too much. He remembered those first few dates, so stressful and awkward he’d felt like a teenager. Chakotay had been dumbstruck by her beauty and for weeks he’d questioned why someone like her would want to go out with a geeky professor like him. When he’d finally relaxed enough to enjoy their dates, Chakotay had found Annika to be charmingly direct. It was something he thought most men would find off-putting, but he appreciated her straightforward attitude. There was no guesswork when it came to Annika; she always said what was on her mind. When she wanted to hang out, she said so. When she wanted to be alone, she told him. There were no mind games, no hoops, no passive aggressive attempts to change him. It was refreshing.

Annika had her quirks: she was fastidiously organized and ran everything in her life like a time-blocked Google calendar, including their relationship. Chakotay had been happy to let her dictate the nature and timing of their dates, and when after a year of dating, she’d declared that it was time to move in together, he hadn’t hesitated.

Chakotay liked that she was smart, driven, and independent. And beneath her sometimes abrasive personality, Annika could be very sweet and kind.

But lately, ever since her promotion back in April, Annika had become so absorbed in her work he was lucky to even have a conversation with her every day. She’d always worked long hours, but now she practically lived at the office. And when she was home, her nose was always in her phone, checking emails or tapping out messages. And when he talked to her about it, she acted like nothing was wrong, like he was wrong for wanting to spend time with her.

It was just one reason why he’d pushed visiting her family for Christmas. He’d suggested a vacation when she announced that her company was “shutting down” between Christmas and New Years. With her entire company on vacation, she wouldn’t be able to work constantly, and with Chakotay on winter break, they could finally spend some time together.

His second reason had been her insistence that it was time for them to move into the next phase of their relationship and get engaged. He wanted to meet her family, see where she grew up. So when he’d overheard her mother asking her to visit, he’d suggested the trip.

Of course, now he’d be lucky to make it to the Hansens’ house by Christmas morning and his hopes for a stress-free vacation were getting snowed-in in a map-dot town he didn’t even know the name of.

Kathryn set the bowl of pasta in the center of the table and took a seat. When Chakotay sat, she gestured that he should serve himself first. Using the plastic pasta spoon, Chakotay scooped a large helping of pasta and marinara. It landed in a congealed heap on his plate, but he took another scoop anyway hoping the second spoonful would prove more appetizing. He was sorely disappointed. But he smiled and said thank you as he angled the spoon towards her.

Kathryn appeared like nothing was amiss as she spooned a scoop of pasta onto her plate and twirled a hunk around her fork. Chakotay eyed the chunky mass on his plate dubiously but for hunger’s sake put a forkful in his mouth. The spaghetti was stuck together in half-cooked, crunchy chunks; the sauce was too sweet and otherwise tasteless. It was by all estimates the worst meal he’d eaten since his Cup-o-Noodle days in college. But he was careful to keep his thoughts off his face. Kathryn had already gone out of her way to shelter him during the storm. The absolute least he could do was not insult her cooking.

“I usually have some of my mother’s meatballs in the freezer,” Kathryn said, “but it looks like they’re all gone. Sorry.”

“That’s alright,” Chakotay said with a smile. “I’m actually a vegetarian.” He took a sip of wine and found that it actually made the sauce tolerable.

“Really?”

He nodded and worked at spinning another stiff clump of noodles onto his fork.

“For how long, if I may ask?”

He did the math as he chewed. “Almost twenty years.”

Kathryn was wide-eyed with amazement. “I’m not sure I could live that long without my mother’s pot roast.” She chuckled and Chakotay found himself joining her. He was used to such comments. They were less frequent in the Bay Area, but he’d endured them for the better part of his adult life.

They were silent a moment as they both struggled with the spaghetti clumps on their plates.

“Did you always want to run a bookstore?” Chakotay asked when Kathryn reached for her wine.

She snorted into her wine glass. “God, no.”

Chakotay waited, wondering if he should press or if she’d expand the statement on her own. After a moment, his patience paid off.

“Voyager Books was my father’s dream,” she said.

Chakotay could tell there was more there, so he hedged his bets and pressed just a little. “Was?”

She was looking down into the wine glass in her hand when she replied. “He died in a car crash. Almost nine years ago to the day.” She paused for a moment before she continued. “It was New Year’s Eve. There was a storm. The other driver was going too fast and hit a patch of ice.” She set the glass back on the table with an audible clink.

Suddenly, her insistence that he wait out the storm and that brief flash of fear he’d seen on her face when he considered driving in it made sense, and Chakotay wished it didn’t.

“And you took it over?” he guessed.

Kathryn nodded. “Neither my mom nor my sister wanted it. My mom was going to sell it but…” she looked around the small apartment. “I just couldn’t bear to see it go, you know?”

Chakotay nodded.

“My father and I were so close,” she continued. “Some of my earliest memories are in that store.”

“Is that when you moved in here?” Chakotay asked. “When you took over the shop?”

Confusion briefly flashed on her face. “Here? No. I’ve only been here for about a year now.”

Chakotay frowned, wondering what else could have prompted her move. His question must have shown on his face because she looked at him and then sighed and set down her fork.

“I broke up with my fiancé in February.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he mumbled lamely.

She shrugged as if it was nothing but Chakotay could see the pained expression on her face as she went on. “He got his dream job in New York and was dead-set on going, whether I came or not. He wanted me to go, but I couldn’t bear to leave this place behind.” She sighed. “It was long and messy and complicated.”

“I’m sorry,” Chakotay said again, at a loss of what else to say. “That must have been hard.”

As soon as he said it, he wished he could snatch back the words. What a stupid thing to say; of course it was hard! She was basically abandoned by the man who was supposed to marry her. He fumbled for something else to say but Kathryn beat him to it.

She huffed and twirled her wine glass. “The way my mother tells it, you’d think I had declined a free mansion in Beverly Hills.”

“She didn’t support your decision?”

Kathryn shook her head. “She said she did, but she tried to convince me to go.” She sighed. “I know she’s just worried about me being lonely.” Kathryn’s eyes were sad when she finally looked at Chakotay again.

“Mothers can be like that,” he said, unsure if he was trying to empathize or lighten the mood. “I know my mother has been nagging me to settle down for years now.”

“Mine’s been on me about grandchildren since I was twenty-five,” she replied seriously. But the tension burst in a fit of shared laughter.

For the rest of their meal, Chakotay enjoyed listening to Kathryn recount stories from her childhood in the bookstore and the holiday traditions that had begun there. Every year she still read ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas, only now she read it to her nieces and nephew while eating the sugar cookies they had decorated earlier in the day. She talked about her former job in a research lab, and her sister who was an art teacher and how their father had nurtured their passions with books.

They talked about fiction, the different books they’d had to read for school, and their favorite authors. Her favorite genre was science-fiction, but she had a guilty-pleasure for gothic romances. They debated about Dante, and Brontë versus Austen, and the correct interpretation of “The Road Not Taken.” Chakotay asked her about running a business and teased her about the store’s slogan (“Voyager Books, where every book is a voyage into a new world.”), calling it cheesy. Kathryn smiled and said it was meant to be cheesy: she was six when she thought it up.

Once more Chakotay was struck with just how easy Kathryn was to talk to, and it was only when the bottle of wine was empty that he realized how long they had been talking.

Chakotay helped Kathryn clear the table and washed the dishes while she dried. By the time they were done, the wind roaring outside the apartment window made it clear the storm had not abated.

“Is there a hotel in town where I can book a room?” Chakotay asked, drying his hands on a kitchen towel.

“Mrs. Kim is usually booked solid through the New Year…” Kathryn said. She bit her lip as she considered his conundrum.

Chakotay was about to pull out his phone to search for nearby hotels when she continued. “You can stay here.”

His hand froze over his pocket. “Are you sure you wouldn’t mind me staying down stairs?”

She cocked her head, clearly confused if her pinched eyebrows were any indication. “Downstairs? No. Up here.”

“Um…” Chakotay was not sure what to say. “Are you sure you’re comfortable with that?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I weren’t.” She smiled slightly as if to reassure him, but suddenly her brows rose, her cheeks flamed, and her mouth formed a perfect little o. “I mean—that is—um, if you’re comfortable staying here, that is.” She looked at his feet once she finished.

Chakotay found himself unconsciously rubbing his neck and quickly dropped his hand. “It’s just that… um, you don’t think—I mean, no one in California would offer...”

“Well, then I guess it’s a good thing you find yourself in Indiana where people still do,” she said cheerfully.

Still dumbfounded, Chakotay asked shyly, “You’re not worried about a stranger in your bedroom?”

“Should I be?” There was only the slightest hint of a challenge in her tone.

Chakotay felt his own cheeks flaming this time and he quickly looked at anything but Kathryn. He suddenly had no idea what to say or what to do in the face of her sincerity and trust. His mind raced through responses, both serious and joking, but he couldn’t comprehend any of them. His tongue felt too big. His hands felt uncoordinated and useless so he shoved them into his pockets.

“I didn’t think so,” Kathryn said in answer to her own question. He could hear the smile in her voice. “But just so we’re clear,” she continued with more force. “I throw a mean book.”

Suddenly, the awkward tension was gone and Chakotay found himself chuckling and looking up to her beautiful smile and twinkling blue eyes.

She turned to her tiny couch and then eyed him up and down. “You can take the bed.”

“I couldn’t—”

She tried to wave away his protest. “It’s perfectly alright.”

“No,” he said a bit more firmly. “I’m not taking your bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“But you’re—”

“I’ll be just fine,” he assured her.

She looked between the couch and the bed a few times. Chakotay could practically see the cogs in her brain trying to work out the geometry of his six-foot frame and her small couch. Chakotay was in doubt himself, but he was not taking her bed. He was already feeling awkward enough just staying the night; sleeping in her bed would move him firmly into “uncomfortable.”  

Finally, Kathryn relented. “Okay.”

While Chakotay went downstairs to get his duffle bag from the car, Kathryn started making up the couch with extra blankets and a pillow.

They took turns in the small bathroom, changing and getting ready for bed. Chakotay wasn’t usually one for pajamas, but given the open layout of Kathryn’s apartment, he was glad he had packed sweatpants and an extra t-shirt. When he emerged, the apartment was dark except for the light on the bedside table, and Kathryn ducked into the bathroom with her own pajamas clutched to her chest.

Chakotay peeled back the blankets and sat on the sofa, waiting to say goodnight. Molly wandered over and sleepily laid her head on his thigh. Chakotay absently stroked her head and scratched behind her ears, chuckling when he found a spot that made her back leg twitch.

Kathryn came out of the bathroom a few minutes later wearing an old fashioned nightgown. Molly’s head shot up at the sound of the door opening but didn’t move away from Chakotay’s hand. Kathryn smiled at them before she got into bed and patted the comforter in invitation. The dog quickly abandoned Chakotay and jumped onto the bed, spun in a circle, and curled against Kathryn’s leg.

The soft yellow glow emanating from the bedside lamp casting Kathryn’s face in beautiful shadow was strangely intimate and Chakotay quickly looked away, painfully reminded that he was usually asleep before Annika came to bed.

“Goodnight,” Kathryn said quietly before turning out the light.

Ignoring the sudden warmth in his cheeks, Chakotay murmured a quick reply and folded himself onto the small sofa. Only about half of him fit comfortably, the rest dangling over the armrest or spilling onto the floor. He tossed and turned a few times before finally managing to doze, only to wake up with pins and needles in his legs. In truth, he probably would have been more comfortable on the floor, but he didn’t want Kathryn to feel bad if she caught him at it. So he cracked his stiff neck, rearranged his limbs, and resigned himself to a sleepless night.

It was okay though, he decided. The blankets smelled like cedar and the pillow smelled like Kathryn’s perfume, and the combined aroma was comfortable and relaxing. And if he was constantly pulled from sleep by stiff joints and numb legs, that pleasant smell was always his last thought before he drifted off again.

***

The smell of strong coffee teased Chakotay from a fitful sleep. It was not a smell he was used to waking up to, and he could tell by the way his body ached that he sure as hell wasn’t in his own bed. He was disoriented for a moment before he remembered the bookstore, the storm, and having to stay the night at Kathryn’s apartment. He opened his eyes and sat up, wincing at the pain in his neck. And shoulders. And back. Really, everywhere.

Perhaps he should have slept on the floor. It couldn’t have been worse than this.

He rubbed at his neck and stretched, hearing a series of satisfying pops as he moved his head from side to side.  

“Good morning.”

Chakotay turned towards the sound of Kathryn’s voice. She was standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and cradling a mug of coffee in both hands. She was already fully dressed in leggings, an oversized sweater, and thick socks. Molly was busy eating breakfast at her feet.

“Would you like some coffee?”

“Please,” he replied and stood.

While Kathryn poured him a cup, Chakotay folded the blankets and laid them over the back of the couch.

“We’re not much for breakfast around here,” Kathryn said as she handed him a festive mug of black coffee, a note of apology in her voice.

“That’s alright,” he said, taking the mug gratefully. He hadn’t gotten much sleep and he desperately needed the caffeine. Especially if he was to drive 30 minutes in the snow. “I’ll get something when I get there.”

“Merry Christmas,” Kathryn said, raising her mug in toast before taking a sip.

“Merry Christmas.” Chakotay smiled over his instinctive grimace at the strong black coffee.

His previous thought about the snow had him looking towards the window. It had been a long time since he’d had a white Christmas, and he’d certainly never had one as white as this. Outside, every thing was covered in at least twelve inches of snow.

Or more, Chakotay amended after walking to the window and finding the shape of his rental car completely encased in snow.

“I can help you dig it out.”

Chakotay found Kathryn standing next to him at the window, staring down at his car.

“Oh, you don’t—”

She glanced at his duffle bag on the floor. “You got a shovel hidden somewhere?”

Chakotay blushed. “Ok, thanks.”

Bundled up, they cleared the snow off the Impreza’s windows and hood, and dug a clear path to the driver’s door. When Chakotay would have swept the snow from the roof, Kathryn stopped him with a cry.

“Leave that!” At his incredulous look, she explained, “The extra weight will help with traction.”

When the car was free from its snowy encasing, Kathryn took Chakotay inside and made him warm his hands, which were admittedly numb. But when feeling returned to his fingertips, it was time to get on the road.

“I can’t thank you enough,” he said to Kathryn at the door of the shop. “For this”—he held up the little bundle of periodicals—“and for letting me stay here.”

“You’re welcome. But I was glad to help. On both fronts.”

He returned her smile, but found he didn’t know what to say next. He’d never spent the night at a woman’s house without the expectation to call the next day. They weren’t on a date; this certainly wasn’t a one night stand. How were they supposed to part? Friends? Strangers? Should he offer his hand? Give her a hug?

Finally he settled on a soft, “Merry Christmas, Kathryn.”

“Merry Christmas, Chakotay.”

Chakotay double checked his pockets once more: he had his keys, wallet, cellphone, and Annika’s present was clutched in his hand. He had everything. And yet, as he bid Kathryn a final goodbye and walked out into the cold winter morning, he couldn’t help feeling like he was leaving something behind.

Chapter Text

The email arrived less than a week later. Business was slow after the holiday and Kathryn was caught up on inventory and emails, so she didn’t miss the notification when the message arrived in the shop’s inbox. The subject line read THANK YOU and it was… from Chakotay.

Kathryn smiled and opened the message.

Dear Kathryn,

I wanted to thank you for letting me wait out the storm with you, for dinner, and for helping me find a gift for Annika. I appreciate the thought and the time you put into finding and curating such a personal gift.

Unfortunately, Annika and I broke up the day after Christmas. She returned the periodicals to me as they were, and I quote, “no longer relevant,” to her field of study. So I am afraid I must also apologize that your effort was for naught.

I have been staying in Bloomington since we spilt as I was unfortunately unable to change my flight. But it has given me time to take in some of the museums and galleries in town, including the university’s museum of archeology and anthropology. Have you been there? It was certainly worth the visit.

Anyway, I fly out on the 1^st and if you would like them, I am happy to return the journals to you before I leave.  They should go to someone who appreciates them for their historical and scientific value.

I hope you had a lovely holiday with your family. Give Molly a pat from me.

Happy New Year,

Chakotay.

At first, Kathryn felt a small bit of guilt for ending up so far off the mark with Annika’s gift. But it was quickly replaced with anger for Annika (who gives back a gift?) and sympathy for Chakotay. What an awful Christmas memory.

She did think it kind of sweet that he offered to return the periodicals to her because he knew she valued their history. She did have an unhealthy attachment to old paper if she thought about it.  But she only considered taking him up on his offer for a second before she smiled and composed her reply.

Dear Chakotay,

I am sorry about you and Annika. Please, do not worry the periodicals.

Christmas Eve was my pleasure, and I am glad to hear that you enjoyed the rest of your stay in Bloomington. I have not been to the IU Museum of Archeology and Anthropology yet, but I will certainly make some time to.

If you are looking for something to do on New Year’s Eve, my friend Tom and his wife are throwing a party at the theater here in town. It’s a costume party, movie themed, but don’t worry about dressing up. Not everyone does. They host this every year, and it’s actually a lot of fun. The whole town shows up to eat and watch old movies, and then at midnight, we watch the ball drop on the big screen. No pressure but the invitation is open.

Have a safe flight and a happy New Year.

Kathryn

***

Kathryn delicately picked her way along the frozen sidewalk, mentally cursing her decision to leave her snow boots at home and vocally cursing Tom for wheedling her into wearing such a ridiculous costume.

“Authenticity, my ass,” she grumbled as she paused to flick the snow off her shoe before it could melt and seep into her nylons. She adored Tom Paris, but he had some seriously questionable taste in television.

The heels on her 1930s style shoes were not overly tall, but Kathryn hated wearing heels of any height even on a dry summer’s day. At ten pm on New Year’s Eve when the ground was spotted with ice? No, thank you.

She really ought to have walked the two blocks to the theater in her boots and changed into her heels when she got there, but she had been in a rush, arriving home from her mother’s house with less than half an hour to change into her costume, an activity which had turned out to be far more complicated than she had anticipated. First she’d had trouble getting the skin-tight dress over her hips, then the zipper had snagged on a sequin, and when her heart began racing and anxiety about getting the dress on had slicked her palms, she’d had to take a whole five minutes to calm down before she could keep her fingers dry enough and hold her breath long enough to get the zipper up all the way.

Balancing the beehive Phoebe had piled on top of her head, Kathryn continued towards the theater, wondering how she would ever make it home in one piece. Keeping her balance on an icy sidewalk with tall shoes and even taller hair was precarious enough. Doing it after several glasses of champagne would be treacherous.

The frozen night air had long since chilled away the anxiety sweat that had threatened to ruin her dress and makeup. Her mother had spent weeks sewing the complicated dress, and Kathryn had sat for what seemed like hours this evening while her mother and Phoebe had fussed over her hair and makeup. Though, now that she had thought about it, Phoebe had only insisted on getting Kathryn ready after Kathryn had mentioned inviting Chakotay.

Gah! She didn’t even know if he was going to come. After replying to his email, Kathryn hadn’t heard from Chakotay again. And she wasn’t hoping to, she told herself.

As she neared the theater, the bright lights of the marquee lit up the otherwise dim street. The theater was old and renovated to look even older. When Tom had purchased the vacant building years ago, he had remodeled it based on the Old Palace Theater in Chicago. It stuck out like a glamorously sore thumb in the middle of the otherwise quintessential small-town block of buildings, but every time she entered the theater Kathryn had to admit, he’d done an impeccable job.

While the theater was elegant on a normal day, tonight everything was decorated in gold and glitter to celebrate the new year. Several disco balls hung from the ceiling, banners and streamers decorated the walls, the coming year displayed in big, black and gold font. The place had one theater room, the doors to which were flung open so the black-and-white movie being projected onto the big screen could be seen from the lobby. No, not a movie, Kathryn realized as she saw the character she was dressed as saunter onto the screen.

Tom’s movie and television themed New Year’s Eve costume parties had been an annual tradition since he opened the theater. But the last couple of parties, he’d insisted on a group costume with several friends. It had all started with costumes from The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Last year Kathryn had been a Pink Lady; the year before that it was Miss Scarlet (the Clue one, not the O’Hara); and this year—

“There she is, the queen!” Tom called, glass raised towards her in salute. Clearly, he was already several glasses into the evening. Tom had always been a little boisterous, especially when alcohol was mixed with his already uninhibited personality.

Kathryn had met Tom her first year of college in chemistry class—a GE requirement for him and a pre-req for her. They’d ended up as lab partners and at first, Kathryn had disparaged his flippant attitude towards the subject matter. Tom had been studying film and couldn’t be bothered to care about anything other than lighting and camera angles. After she’d scolded him for bringing her grade down, he’d finally applied himself and proven that he was far sharper than he wanted to let on.

After graduation, Tom had gone on to Hollywood to be a director, but he’d quickly learned that there was no longer a market for B movies (if there ever had been). Within a year, he’d come back to Indiana, saying he could never work for any of those soulless creatively bankrupt studios, endlessly dulling out lifeless, corporate sludge for the masses. Eventually, he’d bought the theater, renovated it, and now enjoyed subjecting everyone in town to regular viewings of Orgy of the Walking Dead and Attack of the Lobster People.

And we all love him for it, Kathryn thought, smiling at the man in question before she transformed her face into a mask of pretentiousness, posing with one hand on her hip, the other held out with grandiose flair. “You’re no match for Arachnia!”

Her mask held for all of ten seconds before she descended into a fit of laughter.

“Happy New Year, Tom,” she said, giving her friend a hug.

“Happy New Year,” he returned. “You look great!” he added as they broke apart.

Kathryn self-consciously touched her hair, temporarily dyed black and cemented in place with what must have been an entire bottle of hairspray, feeling to make sure the plastic spider was still in place. It was. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” she said.

“You’re telling me,” said Tom’s wife, B’Elanna, as she stepped up beside him. “Could you have picked an anymore sexist show? Why couldn’t I be Chaotica?” she asked Tom, tugging at her crop top.

Tom wrapped an arm around her back and leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek. “Because then I’d have to kill you, Dear.” Tom, of course, had given himself the part of the hero and was dressed in the leather jacket and goggles of Captain Proton.

“But at least I’d get to have some fun.” B’Elanna grumbled. “All Constance Goodheart is good for is getting rescued.”

Tom choked on a laugh. “That’s not all she’s good for,” he mumbled suggestively.

With a glare, B’Elanna smacked the back of Tom’s head. He winced but the pair smiled at each other and when Tom pressed her closer, B’Elanna rested her head on his shoulder momentarily.

B’Elanna Torres-Paris was the furthest thing from the damsel-in-distress she was dressed as, and Tom knew it. The day B’Elanna needed saving was the day the whole town needed saving. 

“Do we have a Chaotica?” Kathryn asked, scanning the room for the telltale skull cap and lightening-adorned robes of Arachnia’s husband-to-be. She saw Harry Kim dressed as Buster Kincaid, chatting at the bar with Megan and Jenny, who were currently portraying the Twin Mistresses of Evil. Doctor Zimmerman had taken the part of the President of Earth, and there was Mike holding his Satan’s Robot mask under his arm while he sipped his drink.

“No,” Tom said, drawing Kathryn’s attention back to their conversation. “Nick had to back out. One of his kids has the flu.”

“Oh that’s too bad,” Kathryn said. Nick was Tom’s younger brother and co-conspirator in the yearly group costume shenanigans. Tom would no doubt be forever disappointed that he was missing from the annual group photo.

Promising to catch up with them more later, Kathryn left Tom and B’Elanna to their other guests and made her way through the crowded lobby to the bar. Tom’s annual party had steadily grown over the years until now it was not unusual to see everyone in town make at least a brief appearance throughout the night. This was just one of the many reasons Kathryn loved her small town: the community. You don’t get this in the city. But it did make for a crowded building when everyone gathered in one place.

Finally she made it to the bar where Mister Neelix was serving drinks. By day Mister Neelix ran the small market in town. But it seemed that at every town event, he played bartender, caterer, or baker, whichever the occasion called for. This evening, he had catered the buffet and was tending bar.

“Kathryn!” he exclaimed upon noticing her. “I almost didn’t recognize you!”

“Mister Neelix,” Kathryn greeted in return. “Happy New Year. Who are you supposed to be?” she asked, eyeing his sharp black tuxedo.

“Ah.” Mister Neelix fingered the lapels on his jacket and lowered his voice an octave as he said, “Bond. James Bond.”

Kathryn had to stifle her laugh. Short, stalky, and balding, Mister Neelix was about the furthest thing from a James Bond as she could imagine, but he was clearly putting his heart into his performance—which is how Mister Neelix did everything. Nobody knew his first name, and by now Kathryn was convinced that he didn’t have one.

Thankfully Mister Neelix broke into a laugh and Kathryn could smile to cover her amusement. “Pretty good, eh? What do you think?”

“Very good,” she said.

“And what will you have to drink?”

“Champagne, please.”

“Coming right up,” he said cheerfully before pouring her a glass. “Here you are and a very happy New Year to you. And by the way,” Mister Neelix leaned over the bar conspiratorially and continued in a whisper, “the bet is on as to which lovely young lady is going to get young Harry Kim’s kiss at midnight.” Kathryn followed his gaze to where Harry was still chatting with the Delaney twins. “Tom said Jenny, but it’s currently two to one odds on Megan at the moment.”

Trust Tom Paris to start a betting pool on his best friend’s love life.

“Well,” Kathryn said, leaning towards Mister Neelix. “My money is on both.”

With a wink and a smirk, she tipped her glass to him and left poor Mister Neelix staring after her as she made her escape before he could think to ask her who she was going to kiss at midnight. Though, the answer to that was both simple and depressing. No one.  

As she sipped her champagne, Kathryn scanned the crowd. Almost everyone was dressed up to some degree, though she couldn’t recognize most of the costumes. She mentally tried to name as many as she could and told herself that she was not looking for a certain dark-haired archeologist amongst them. Nope. Absolutely not. Still, she scanned the crowd again, her heart sinking when she didn’t see him.

He’s not coming, she told herself. Don’t get your hopes up.

And why were her hopes up? Which they undeniably were, against all better judgement and for reasons she couldn’t put a name to. Sure, he was dangerously attractive. And sweet and smart and interesting. But he’d spent all of one day at her house. Not even! He’d given no indication that he liked her. And even if he had, he’d just broken up with the woman he was going to propose to.

She’d made the invitation to the party tonight with no ulterior motives; a simple invitation made for the sake of kindness. She’d told herself when he’d walked out of her shop on Christmas morning that she would never see him again. And she’d been fine with that. But then she’d received his email and invited him to the party tonight with nothing but the best of intentions, and now she could not stop the hope. The wishing, the wanting.

It’s just a crush. By this time tomorrow, he would be back in California, back to his life. Maybe then she would go back to being okay with never seeing him again.

Inwardly she sighed and watched Naomi Wildman, who had spent the last week telling anyone who would listen—and even those who wouldn’t—that she was finally old enough to be allowed to stay up until midnight this year, try not to fall asleep on her mother’s shoulder. Kathryn smiled at the sight and, forcing thoughts of Chakotay to the back of her mind, went to say hello.

“Sam, hi. Happy New Year!”

“Happy New Year, Kathryn.” Sam made to shift her sleepy daughter and stand before Kathryn waved her back into her seat. There were two glasses of cider on the small bistro table and a small plate with a half eaten slice of cake.

“Where’s Gres this evening?” Kathryn asked referring to Sam’s husband.

“Oh he went to get another drink and some more of those pot stickers. The baby can’t seem to get enough of them.” Kathryn looked back over to the bar where Gres had been waylaid by Mister Neelix at the buffet table.

“Looks like Mister Neelix caught him,” Kathryn said, turning back to Sam. “He might be a while.”

Sam and Gres were expecting their second child in just a few months. The whole town was excited for them, but none more so than Mister Neelix who offered baby advice to anyone who would listen. Kathryn herself had a double-sided list of tasks to do in order to baby-proof the bookstore.

Sam sighed. “Probably all night in that case.”

Kathryn took the seat opposite Sam. “How’s she doing?” she asked, glancing at the child in Sam’s arms.

“Nearly out. She made it longer than I thought she would, but I’ll wake her up just before midnight. She’d never let me hear the end of it if I let her sleep through her first real New Year’s Eve.”

“No, I don’t think she would,” Kathryn replied, smiling at the child who would most certainly not stop talking about the party all year whether she was awake at midnight or not.   

“Who’s that?” Sam asked, looking towards the front doors.

Kathryn followed her line of sight and caught her breath when she recognized who Sam was looking at. Standing in a sea of chatting guests, he alone looked lost and out of place, his eyes searching the crowd.

“Excuse me,” Kathryn said to Sam, not taking her eyes off the dark figure as she rose from her chair and made her way to the front of the lobby. She watched him continue to look around the crowded room, his eyes passing right over her, and then do a double take when he recognized her. After a moment of bewildered surprise, he smiled and started towards her.

“Hi,” Chakotay said when they reached each other.

“Hi,” was all she could manage with him smiling at her like that. She knew that she was smiling stupidly, she had been since she got up from Sam’s table. But she couldn’t stop because Chakotay was here.

“You look great,” he said. “I could hardly recognize you.”

“You—” The words stuck in her throat. He was here. On New Year’s Eve. In her town, which was in the exact opposite direction from the airport. He showed up. “Dressed up,” she blurted, having belatedly taken in his brown leather jacket and fedora.

Chakotay’s lips quirked in a self-deprecating smile. “Yeah. Lucked out at the thrift store. Who are you supposed to be?”

Kathryn mimicked pose she’d struck earlier for Tom and drawled theatrically, “Arachnia, Queen of the Spider People.” At Chakotay’s blank look, she dropped the act and explained, “Tom got a bunch of us to dress up of as characters from this cheesy 1930’s sci-fi show. He’s Captain Proton, Defender of the Earth, and Harry Kim over there is his sidekick, Buster Kincaid.” Kathryn pointed out Tom and Harry in the crowd for Chakotay.

“And the woman next to Tom?”

“His wife, B’Elanna. She’s dressed as Constance Goodheart, Captain Proton’s secretary and perpetual damsel in distress. Tom has…eclectic tastes in movies and television,” she added before taking a sip of her drink.

“Ah. I take it you are not a fan?”

At his question, Kathryn swallowed hard, champagne bubbles burning her throat on the way down. “Oh, God, no. I watched exactly two episodes on YouTube for the costume and that’s it.”

“It’s my favorite show,” Chakotay said.

For a brief moment, Kathryn wished the ground would swallow her up or that the world would end in some great Y2K apocalypse. But then she remembered that Chakotay hadn’t recognized her costume. If he were a fan, he would have known who she was dressed as. But he looked so serious, no hint of a tease as he stared at her. “Seriously?”

Chakotay’s mask of seriousness dissolved into chuckling very quickly. “No.”

Kathryn narrowed her eyes at him but couldn’t hold the scowl and soon she too was chuckling in amusement.

“Oh, um, I have something for you.” Chakotay reached into his pocket and withdrew an origami rose. “I know tonight’s the anniversary of your dad’s crash and I…” He held out the rose as he trailed off.

“You didn’t—” The lump in Kathryn’s throat cut off anymore she would have said. She was hard pressed to keep her hand from trembling as she took it from him, and as she looked a little closer, she could make out the text on the paper. “Is that...” Yes. It was. He’d used a page from one of the scientific journals.

Chakotay tugged his ear. “You won’t believe how many tries it took me to get it right.”

Kathryn chuckled. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.” She raised the paper to her nose and pretended to sniff it, earning a grin from Chakotay. “I’m sorry to hear about you and Annika.”

Chakotay’s grin faded. “It’s okay. We…” A breath. “We both realized that we want different things.”

That sounded far too cliché to be the whole truth but Kathryn wasn’t about to press him. Not tonight. Tonight she was simply going to be happy to get these few extra hours to get to know him better and enjoy his company. Because being in Chakotay’s presence felt like...sunshine after months of clouds. Everything felt just a little brighter when he was around, and that aching hope that had been living in her chest since she’d invited him here tonight threatened to send her soaring.

“Hey, aren’t you going to introduce us?”

At the sound of Tom’s voice, Kathryn slipped the rose into the billowy sleeve of her dress. “Tom,” she said, turning to face Tom and his wife as they joined her and Chakotay. “We were just talking about you.”

“Only good things, I hope,” he replied with a smile. “Tom,” he said and held his hand out to Chakotay.

“Just your taste in movies,” quipped Chakotay, shaking Tom’s hand. “Chakotay.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Tom. “And this is my wife, B’Elanna.”

“Pleasure,” Chakotay said, shaking her hand as well.

“Likewise.”

“Tom owns the theater,” Kathryn explained to Chakotay.

“It’s a great place,” he said, taking in the glamor of the lobby.

“You should have seen it when I bought it,” Tom said. “Total gut job.”

“You did an amazing job.”

“Actually, I just visualized it. B’Elanna did most of the work,” Tom said, wrapping an arm around the woman in question and grinning at her with unmistakable pride.

“Are you a contractor?” Chakotay asked her.

“Contractor. Mechanic.” B’Elanna shrugged nonchalantly. “If it’s broken, I can fix it.”

“B’Elanna runs an auto repair shop here in town,” Kathryn said.

“There’s not enough contracting work around these parts to do it full time,” B’Elanna explained. “But I keep my license current.”

“What do you do, Chakotay?” Tom asked.

“Professor,” he replied. “Anthropology and archaeology.”

“And you’re…Indiana Jones! Hey!” Tom snapped his fingers as if he’d had a sudden epiphany. “What if we did a marathon showing next month, huh? All four Indiana Jones movies back-to-back-to-back-to-back.” He gestured with the hand not wrapped around his wife as he spoke as if asking his audience to visualize the picture.

“Five,” B’Elanna cut in.

“What?”

“There are five Indiana Jones movies.”

Tom dropped his hand and faced her with a frown. “No there’s not.”

“Yeah,” Chakotay said reluctantly.

Tom looked like a kid who’d been told Christmas is cancelled as he looked around their group, eyes begging for someone to deny it.

“Well,” sighed B’Elanna, “four or five I don’t care. Either would be better than last weekend’s Biting Raoul.”

“Eating. Eating Raoul,” Tom corrected, stressing the verb.

B’Elanna rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

“Hey, I hear that’s a cult classic,” said Chakotay.

“Thank you,” said Tom, relieved that someone appreciated the same movies. But as Kathryn looked up at Chakotay, the wry half-smile on his face told her that he had no idea what they were talking about. “You should join us for vintage movie night.”

Kathryn felt Chakotay shift awkwardly beside her. “Uh,” he started and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand.

“Chakotay lives in California,” Kathryn said for him.

“Ah,” said Tom. “And how do you two know each other?”

For some reason, Tom’s question, reasonable though it was, felt like an inquisition, and Kathryn could not think of an explanation that wouldn’t give Tom the wrong impression. His eyes flicked between them but settled on Kathryn, curious and waiting for an answer. “Oh, um…” Her cheeks heated further the longer the silence dragged on, and it seemed to drag on forever. How long had he been staring at her? Surely no answer was just as incriminating as a bad answer.

“Actually,” said Chakotay, “Kathryn was kind enough to shelter me during the storm on Christmas Eve.” Kathryn shot him a look of thanks.

“Ooof, yeah that was a nasty one,” said Tom. “So how long are you in town for?”

“I fly out in the morning,” Chakotay replied.

“Bummer.” Tom sounded genuinely disappointed. “Well we’re glad you could make it to our little shindig. Can I get you a drink, Chakotay?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Tom led Chakotay off to the bar leaving Kathryn and B’Elanna to follow. B’Elanna looked at her, brow raised in question. Kathryn smiled shyly but shook her head. Even if she knew how to explain Chakotay, she wasn’t ready to.

Just because he’s here, it doesn’t mean anything. He’s just being friendly.

B’Elanna rolled her eyes and followed the men to the bar. After a moment, Kathryn did as well.

***

The night passed in a flurry of introductions and explanations. Everyone it seemed was curious about Chakotay and before midnight, it seemed that Kathryn had introduced him to the entire town. As much as she loved the people here, they could be a little overwhelming all at once. Kathryn passed Chakotay a look of sympathy as Mister Neelix finally succeeded in interrogating him about the food.

She had hoped to get more time alone with Chakotay tonight to get to know him better, but everyone wanted time with the stranger and she’d hardly gotten to say two words to him after Tom had gotten them all a round of drinks. She tried not to feel disappointed about the fact that it was nearing midnight and that Chakotay would probably want to leave soon thereafter so he could catch his flight in the morning. He just broke up with his girlfriend, she reminded herself once more. He’s not looking for a relationship. He’s just a friend.

When Tom announced that there were only a few minutes to midnight, everyone made their way into the theater to watch the ball drop. With a hand on her lower back, Chakotay escorted Kathryn into the darkened room where they found some space to stand along the back wall. On the big screen, scenes from the party in New York played out between shots of the announcers and the ball that would drop to ring in the new year.

“Thirty seconds!” called Tom.

As the last few stragglers trickled in, Kathryn was keenly aware of Chakotay’s hand still resting lightly on her lower back, of just how close they were standing.

The air was full of excitement and anticipation. Kathryn heard a squeal of excitement that could only be attributed to Naomi Wildman, shortly followed by a “Shhh,” from the child’s mother. Kathryn stood next to Chakotay, enjoying the feeling of his arm wrapped around her waist as she faced the screen. Everyone counted down the seconds to midnight along with the announcer: “..three…two…one… Happy New Year!”

On the screen, the ball dropped, fireworks exploded, and confetti rained. In the theater, the cheers rang out, noise makers honked, and glasses were raised to the the new year.

Kathryn cheered and clapped along with everyone else before she turned away from the big screen to smile up at Chakotay. She quickly looked away though, because all around them, couples were engaging in New Year’s kisses and Kathryn didn’t want her attention to pressure Chakotay into thinking she wanted a kiss.

If she even did. Want one, that is. Which she did, but only if he wanted one, and even if he did, she didn’t think he would be ready for that. So she forced herself to look around the room instead.

Tom and B’Elanna were locked in an embrace, gazing at each other like no one else was in the room. At some point during the night, Tom had given B’Elanna his jacket, the only things denoting his costume now being the gun belt and fake laser gun on his hip, and the goofy goggles atop his head. Kathryn could see the smiles on both their faces as B’Elanna stretched onto her toes for another kiss. Harry Kim had a Delaney twin on either arm. Though Kathryn had not seen which sister he had kissed first, it was clear he had captured both of their attentions. Sam Wildman had her head resting on her husband’s shoulder, both of them watching Naomi dancing with childish abandon in front of the big screen.

“Kathryn.”

Kathryn turned to find Chakotay gazing intently down at her. “Yeah?”

“I would—um, would it be alright if I kissed you?”

His question was unexpected given his very recent breakup. Even with his surprise attendance tonight, Kathryn had not dared to hope for anything more than his friendship. And in truth, she hadn’t thought about kissing anyone since Mark. Until Chakotay. She wanted to kiss him, had wanted to for days now, and the only thing that had kept him out of her fantasies was the fact that he was very nearly engaged until recently.

She smiled. “I might even kiss you back.”

It was soft, chaste, hardly a brush of his lips against hers, but Kathryn felt the touch of it down to her toes. She’d heard of electrifying kisses, read about them in every romance novel she’d picked up. But she had not, until now, with Chakotay’s hands on her waist and his lips against hers, believed such a thing was possible.

The rest of the room faded away and Kathryn’s world narrowed to the heat of his hands seeping through her dress, the scent of his leather jacket mixed with the smell of his skin, the frantic beat of her heart against her ribs. A heady kaleidoscope of sensations perceived in a span of seconds, an overwhelming cocktail more potent than any alcohol. She almost wished it had lasted longer, that he would kiss her again, but as they pulled back, the look in his eyes told her that he had felt it too, that electric current still thrumming in her veins alighting every nerve ending in her body, and it was enough, for now. Enough to know that this feeling was not felt by her alone. To know that somewhere in the future, the possibility for this and more existed. To know that the door was open and that when he was ready, he was willing to meet her on the other side.

Kathryn stepped back, her palms sliding along the worn leather of his jacket as she released his shoulders, but he didn’t let her get too far. He took both her hands in his, keeping them connected as he smiled down at her.

“Happy New Year, Kathryn.”

“Happy New Year, Chakotay.”

Chapter Text

358 days later

Chin in hand, Kathryn watched the seconds tick by on the clock on the wall. The shop was quiet, only the faint sound of Molly’s occasional dream-induced whines breaking the silence. Outside, the snow-covered street was empty except for the orbs of orange light cast by the wreath-adorned street lamps.

Beneath the counter, her foot tapped impatiently, willing the clock to hurry up. The till was counted, the register was closed, emails were answered, and in exactly two minutes, eleven seconds, she could flip the sign on the door to “Closed.” This year, she was closing the shop early for the holiday, like every other business on the block, because this year, she had plans. Plans that involved not working. Plans that should be arriving any minute now.

Tomorrow would be spent at her mother’s house, making cookies and opening presents just like every Christmas, but tonight she was staying in.

Her fingers drummed on the counter.

One minute thirty-six seconds.

The bell over the door jingled as the door opened, prompting her to sit up straight. A man walked in, bringing with him a cold gust of wind until he closed the door behind him. He turned and faced her with a smile as he stamped his feet on the mat.

Kathryn grinned back.

He was dressed in a heavy winter coat, jeans, and boots, his black hair dusted becomingly with gray.

“Hi,” Kathryn managed, though the word came out breathy and tight for the joy crowding her lungs.  

“Hi,” Chakotay said and shifted the grocery bag in his arms. “Perhaps you can help me. I’m looking for a gift for my girlfriend. Everywhere else seems to be closed.”

Playing along, Kathryn waved at the clock. “Unfortunately, so am I.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. See, she’s rather special.”

“What does she like to read?”

“Oh, everything. Trouble is, she owns this bookstore, so chances are, she already has it.”

“Ah, well…” Kathryn sat back and let him stew for a moment. Then the grin slowly spread across her face again and she rose, rounding the counter and taking the bag of groceries from his arms so he could remove his gloves. “You’re gift enough for me,” she said and went up onto her toes so she could press a kiss to his cheek. “What’s in here?” she asked, peering into the bag as she set it on the counter.

“Dinner.”

“What are we having?”

“Spaghetti. My recipe. I’m going to teach you how to make it properly.”

Kathryn faced him, hands on her hips. “I know how to make spaghetti.”

Chakotay put his gloves in his pocket and stepped closer, arms going around her waist. “Of course you do.”

She wanted to keep up her indignation—he had just insulted her cooking after all—but he was leaning down towards her lips, and he smelled so good, and even after being outside in the cold he was warm, and she had missed him so damn much that of course her arms came up and looped around his neck, and she returned his kiss with equal fervor, pressing her whole body against him.

Since New Years, she and Chakotay had exchanged emails, text messages, and spent countless evenings on the phone together. Conscious of the fact that he had recently broken up with his girlfriend, Kathryn had been patient, but that midnight kiss had remained in her mind.

Eventually, simple text messages grew to hours-long conversations on FaceTime, and then Chakotay had flown to Indiana during his spring break. They had spent the week visiting museums, minding the shop together, and going out to dinner. And their second kiss had been just as electric as their first.

The distance forced them to take things slow, but Kathryn had managed to find a week at the beginning of the summer to close up the shop and fly to San Francisco, and Chakotay had spent two weeks in Indiana at the end of his summer break. A blissful two weeks filled with lazy afternoons on the town square, evenings watching terrible movies with Tom and B’Elanna, and kisses just like this one. Wonderful, wonderful kisses, long walks with her hand in his, and breathy “I love yous” whispered at the end of long summer days.

Best of all, last summer Chakotay had also met with the head of the anthropology department at IU, and just last week he had called to inform her that he had received and accepted a job offer for a full-time position starting this fall.

A high-pitched whine and an impatient nudge to her leg prompted Kathryn to break the kiss, and she looked down to find Molly dancing in place, begging for attention. Chuckling, Chakotay released her and knelt to pet the demanding dog.

“Did you miss me?” he asked playfully, scrubbing her ears with both hands.

“Sometimes I think she likes you more than me.”

“That’s because…” Chakotay pulled a dog treat from his pocket which Molly eagerly devoured. “I have the cookies.”

Kathryn scoffed. “You’ll spoil her.”

“That’s my job.” He rose and stepped around Molly so he could wrap his arms around Kathryn again. “Plus, I like spoiling my girls.”

“Hmmm…” Kathryn slid her hands up his chest, wrapped her arms around his neck once more. “We like that too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Speaking of, I believe you said something about dinner.”

“In a minute.”

He bent to kiss her again. As always, that electric current shot through her, tingling down to her toes, and Kathryn gasped, allowing him to deepen the kiss. And he did, tasting her with lips and tongue, and she tasted him right back, clinging to him and breathing him in.

He was here. He was here, and Kathryn had never before believed in fate until Chakotay had walked into her shop exactly one year ago. But she did now because Chakotay was here for two weeks, and she was kissing him, and in six months, there would be no more distance between them.

Kathryn wasn’t sure what the next year would bring, but she was certain about this. About Chakotay and his arms like home around her.

Chakotay was just as breathless as she was when he pulled back. “Merry Christmas, Kathryn.”

“Merry Christmas, Chakotay.”