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[ Definitely Chakotay, as though he hadn't guessed as much already. He considers it, given all the variables, how it most certainly must have gone down, how it would proceed--that was what the Q did, or had done. Study, propose, then sit back to see if it went down that way or not. Some Q, for example, had proposed that humanity wouldn't have what it took to climb out of the primordial ooze, but Q had known better. Q had faith in them. And now here he was talking romance as though they were equals. Who would have thought?

But here was Janeway's quandary: Chakotay had feelings for her, and was willing to explore them. He knew she had feelings for him too, and knew equally that she was unwilling - and perhaps always would be. The mistletoe had given him but a taste of something he'd never have, and hardened her resolve besides. The situation, formed from its back, had seen to that: she had seen how it would damage their relationship, and couldn't afford for it to happen again. Oh, she could give some token command, tell him to forget what happened--but if she did that, Chakotay would never forgive her. And now Janeway, who was astute in the ways of interpersonal relations as she was in science, knew that she had two options: stand her ground even though it would drive her First Officer away from her, or - the option she could never permit herself to follow, would rather die first - settle, sending her responsibilities to the sticking place, and give Chakotay what he wanted, something which would end in failure because the man was wired empathically, and would be able to tell within seconds that a part of Janeway was dying just to make him happy.

There was only really one option, Q thought, but he'd been wrong before. Janeway would stay herself. She had to. Her dogged determination would hold her through any storm, steer her past any enemy, surmount even the tumultuous waters of love and loss. Had she wept over the loss of her fiancee, he wondered? Did she even stop to let herself feel it?

He lifted his hard stare away from her, was careful about how he spoke after he declaration. ]

You have your responsibilities and Chakotay has his. You hurt him, but perhaps he's just as concerned that he might have hurt you. This is a slip for him too; no doubt he spends a majority of his time trying to keep you from feeling uncomfortable around him--even if in general his efforts seem to be failing.

It's been coming to this for months, hasn't it?

[ if not for the q's ability to know things simply by knowing, she'd question the accuracy of his statements, of his question. but he knows, and she knows that he knows. how could he not? it was obvious enough back on her ship that there was a section of the betting pools directed to whether or not chakotay would ever elicit a "response" from her or if she'd continue to be seemingly oblivious to what everyone else was well aware of. (she turned a blind eye to something she would've put a stop to were they a normal crew back in the alpha quadrant, but the betting circles contributed to positive crew morale, and she wasn't about to deprieve any of them of something that made getting out of bed in the morning a little more worthwhile than just showing up for duty.) chakotay was in love with her, and she... while she would admit that she felt something, it was never going to be anything she would allow to grow beyond that spark of potential. she cared, but she couldn't care in the way he wanted her to. that was the problem.

and why her only solution was to put her shields back up and hurt him again by refusing to budge from the position she maintained. a curse-driven kiss wasn't going to chance that. it couldn't, and if he knew her as well as she hoped and though he did, he would know this. but lately, she hasn't been so sure of that... which is why his question is so painfully accurate. ]

Yes. [ not necessarily the kissing part of it, but the blow up of general tension between them. on voyager there was structure, a careful balance of power and distance they maintained that worked for them. here? it didn't work, and cohabitation in an attempt to keep all their people close together only made matters worse. chakotay was willing to adapt, would settle if he had to, and he'd flourish here. kathryn? was too stubborn to settle, refused to adapt, and would continue tripping awkwardly over references she didn't understand and the customs tied to holidays that earth hasn't celebrated in centuries. she was like a puzzle piece that was trying to fit in the wrong puzzle — it just wasn't going to work.

a lot of things weren't going to work, and having zero control over her more inappropriate actions today wasn't helping. ]

I'm not relieving him of duty, I just— [ she sighs; slowly, heavily. ] He needs time. I can give him time and expect him to do what he can of his job while we're stuck in this godforsaken place without face-to-face contact with his captain. [ texting was useful for something.

her gaze turns sharp, threatening — deadly, and she directs it at him. ] If you repeat any of this to anyone, especially him, you'll wake up encased in force fields.

[ Chilled him to the bone, that stare, but then it was exactly the same stare he had no doubt she'd turned full force on a Borg Queen or two during her time all at sea. He wasn't about to question it, or spill a single word and risk the full force of her ire, so he was quick to raise his hands in mock surrender, stopping only to reach down, zip his lips, lock them and throw away the imaginary key.

And when he was done being silly, trying to laugh off the icy, uncomfortable feeling her warning had left in his gut, he turned back toward the fire, just for a second, before slanting his gaze back toward Janeway again.

He gently nudges the subject on to something less terrifying. ]

You realise it's almost Christmas? Of course, you probably don't celebrate it, but I have. Never was there more contrast between the best and worse of humanity than Christmas.

If these curses should be Gregorian based, as I think they are, then we almost certainly have reason to prepare for the worst. Don't you think so?

[ which made her feel even more ridiculous for getting riled up over kissing people of all things when she barely batted an eyelash at the borg queen. she'd walked the corridors of a borg ship in the heart of borg space alone, with only a weapon they would likely adapt to within a few shots to protect her, and she hadn't even flinched. yet she's compelled to kiss her first officer and she goes running off to hide in a store where she feigns shopping for a holiday she finds as ridiculous as she did in childhood and is now doing the same on a rooftop with one of the federation's greatest headaches. ]

I'm a scientist, not a historian. [ how very mccoy of her, but that doesn't make the statement any less true. in regards to 21st century culture and other aspects of earth's history, when she doesn't have tom's expertise or the ship's database to consult, she's lost. sure, she could "google" the information, but this century was notorious for promoting unsourced information that was often inconsistent, incorrect, and misrepresented. she really hates this time, this place. ] But, yes, I'm aware. No, I don't celebrate it. I'm not exactly a traditionalist. The old holidays don't really pertain to the 24th Century.

[ especially when living aboard starships full of dozens of different species, all of which have different beliefs, customs, and days they observe. kathryn, personally, sees little point in recognizing things like christmas or the new year. ]

Are you suggesting the worst is yet to come? Because I've had my fill of curses.

[ Of course she didn't. Because science and tradition didn't really go hand in hand, and if Janeway was given the option between sharing gifts with her family and observing a bistellar supernova, only one choice would occur to her. But Q smiled, tilting his head down away from her to peer into the fire. ]

It's a time of forgiveness, good will to all men, of sentimentality and gift-giving and excess. But in contrast, it might whim you to tell people what you really think of them, trigger arguments, inspire people to drink far too much. I can't imagine anything good coming of it, can you?

[ But he shakes his head. ]

Truly, if I were in control of this place I wouldn't bother. People are self destructive enough on this medieval holiday without making it any harder for them. Maybe we'll get a day off.

[ Maybe not. And what was that about tempting fate? ]

You stick with me, Kathy. I'll make sure you don't do anything else you might regret and we'll go from there. Sound fair to you?

[ she scoffs at the incredulity of his suggestion. stick with him. as if she, kathryn janeway, needs some sort of bodyguard or lookout. that's not who she is. she's not the damsel in distress. she's the one who defies all these antiquated gender role stereotypes this century is oh so fond of and rescues her own damned self after being kidnapped. she's the hero of her own story, she doesn't need someone to play the role for her. it's frustrating to be presented with something she found grating in the kazon alive and well in her own species. why tom is so fascinated with this era, she'll never know. it's all too barbaric for her tastes. ]

And what if the mistletoe compels me to kiss you? Would you do everything in your power to stop that or reap the benefits of it?

[ a bold question, but bold might as well be one of her many middle names. ]

Edited 2013-12-15 06:07 (UTC)

[ To tell the truth there was as much gentle ribbing in the suggestion as otherwise. The problem with finding oneself attracted to formidable women was that sooner or later you were treated very much to the true ways of the universe, and that inevitably meant the realisation that universally, as a gender, women would invariably have the upper hand, and there was nothing anyone could do about it, protestations to the contrary withstanding.

And if Q didn't like that, he could have found himself someone soft and brainwashed to pine over. There were enough species in the universe that imprinted on their respective partners that it wouldn't have been too hard. No, it just wasn't the way he liked to play the game. What was the point if it was easy?

That was fundamentally the problem with the mistletoe. What was the point if it was easy? It was like reading the last page of a book without taking in the whole story. Like being told how a movie would end. Like someone telling you how your children would look when they'd finished growing. For Q, who could have anything he wanted without so much as lifting a finger (although he often did just for show), the novelty was in the journey. Oh, how dull! Janeway had been right after all. But like hell was he ever going to tell her that. ]

Madame Captain, you imply I'd have a choice in the matter myself, but let's argue either way, shall we? First, were it in my power to do so, I would most certainly see to it. I have my reasons, but suffice is to say that I don't find compulsion revs my engine so to speak. What's the point in being handsome, dashing and all-powerful if you have to beg for scraps?

The second, then: Suppose we were to find ourselves, even here-- [ He motioned skywards. ] --abducted by the throes of passion. Well, I'd certainly throw myself into the experience, I don't know about you. But what would it mean? Only that we have both been convicted to the same cruel trickery, and we should collectively be very angry about it. A little congratulations on my prowess wouldn't go amiss, but all in all I can't imagine our not being able to go on with things as though nothing has happened, and in the spirit of mindality, mon chere capitaine, lack of belief in the incident may indeed strike it cleanly from existence, if that is what you prefer.

I'd be offended, but I wouldn't hold it against you. The mind must adapt to accept only the reality it can live with, after all. [ Okay, so that last bit was pure teasing, but who could blame him? ]

I don't particularly like the idea of a Q being forced into the same situations as us "lowly" mortals. I was hoping that you had some sort of... control over the situation that the rest of us lacked, but if you're experiencing the same unbidden burst we are, then... [ that's damned unsettling. as unsettling as a q with nerfed abilities who supposedly wasn't thrown into this holding cell of a century by the continuum to teach him some sort of lesson about playing well with others. she's doesn't fully believe that he didn't do anything to warrant this, that the continuum isn't behind his being here, but is open to the possibility that even the q can find themselves victims of the city. ]

To be honest, [ she uncrosses her legs, sits up straighter, and pushes her braid back off her shoulder, momentarily forgetting about the hickey it was hiding. ] it's not the kissing itself that I have a problem with. Sure, as a captain, I'm required to take issue with kissing certain individuals, but as a person, I'm bothered by the lack of control. Free will. If I'm going to kiss someone, it's going to be on my own terms and not because some plant demands that I do so.

Free will is invariably the problem. Take it from someone who knows.

[ He sits up too, but still sidewards on the chair, his legs curled up behind him, because now that the light catches her just so, he can see the bruise - well formed now - where it sits between her shoulder and her throat. Well now. Chakotay really hadn't held back, had he? And no wonder Janeway had to get out of there. She wore a badge of her shame right there at her throat. ]

One might even suggest that, as you have the Prime Directive, so the Q must allow free will, and while it might have been implied otherwise in one of those Captain's Logs of yours, I none the less have held to my end of the bargain. What would be the point? Oh, we push the boundaries now and again, but there's no fun in making someone do something. It really does make me wonder whether or not a Q is in control of this place--it just isn't like us.

[ Some other omnipotent beings, maybe, but not the Q. He slides out of his chair at last, approaching the side of Janeway's chair, where he crouches beside her, frowning at the injury. ]

I could make that go away. [ Could. If that was what she really wanted. He wasn't sure it was. Humans were complicated, and women even more so. ]

[ it takes her a moment to realize what he's talking about, having forgotten about the mark altogether. but when she does, it isn't to pull her braid back over it and shoo him away or to hide her face in embarrassment. it's to huff in utter irritation with everything, which includes brandishing (and concealing) a hickey like some cadet that's been sneaking around after hours. ]

Compliments of Jim Kirk. [ not chakotay. he might've left a faint imprint on her, but the dark coloration of the bruise and how sensitive it was to the touch was all james kirk. thank you, gentlemen. she appreciates it. honestly, everything about this day is ridiculous. from the position it's put her in, to q offering to remove a hickey for her. could it possibly get any worse?

she holds up a hand, shakes her head. ] Don't worry about it. Save your tricks for something other than... [ gestures to her neck ] this.

As you wish.

[ He rises back to his feet, but only to perch on the arm of the chair beside her, peering back into the fire. ]

Oh, but you've been through the wringer. There you were, skillfully maintaining your cool, and along comes a plant to undermine all your hard work. I don't envy you your position, Captain.

[ But there was more to it than that, wasn't there? It had reminded her all too blatantly of what she couldn't have, and while there were those among the City's population who seemed to throw themselves headlong into the season (and James T. Kirk was presumably one of them judging by the prickly bruise) she would always stand alone; that was her mantle to bear. Q reached for the hand on her knee, settling his own on top of it. ]

You have the propensity to dwell on things you wouldn't change, even if you wanted to. Today's activities had but one possible outcome, and one only.

[ like the decision to destroy the caretaker's array. that order would haunt her for the rest of her life, but if given the chance to do it over again, she wouldn't change a thing. forever praising herself and beating herself up in one fell swoop, yet all anyone ever sees is a cool, calm, almost icy exterior with no hints towards the turmoil brewing on the inside beneath those glacial layers. ]

Heartbreak and disappointment.

[ kathryn looks down at that hand. if it moves higher, she's likely to break it. she tells herself that she's preventing him from doing that when she turns her hand over under his so that she can properly curl her fingers around his much larger palm, but maybe even those who choose to be lonely need the comfort of another's touch now and then. ]

[ Under other circumstances his words might have been seen as condescending, and he half expected her to bat his hand away and tell him not to talk down to her. He'd have probably deserved it too. But this time his efforts to sympathise didn't go entirely unrewarded, and he squeezes at her hand reassuringly as she turns it into his own. There was that warmth again, the strange feeling of being wanted (not desired, mind you, but his presence accepted, even sought out) that was so particularly surreal to him.

Betraying that sentiment of warmth and trust was outside the realm of his ability. He stayed for a moment longer, speaking confidences. ]

Perhaps it's for the best. You may find you come out stronger for your experience, both of you. Well--yourself and Chakotay, at least. Whether Kirk has the propensity to learn at all is still a matter for great debate.

Starfleet instructs you in making difficult decisions, in what you might do when you come face to face with such challenges. [ A thoughtful pause. Okay, let him approach that from a different direction. ] You asked me several days ago if I would have preferred Picard's being here to Kirk. The truth is that the three of you approach an impossible situation in different ways, and Picard's is by far the least helpful. Kirk doesn't believe in a no-win situation; he uses his bravado to muddle his way through. Picard relies wholly on the might of the Federation and the many extraordinary talents of his handpicked crew. You - you alone - have to dig your heels in and fight your way through to the end, because there's no safety net waiting for you. You're the only one I would trust among you to find your way out of this, and you will.

There may be sacrifices along the way, but you've made them before. You know what decision you have to make, when neither option is palatable; that ultimate test has been laid at your feet too many times to so much as bat an eyelash at it now.

[ touched, kathryn reaches out to cup his cheek with the hand that isn't gripping his. then she does the unexpected— kisses him. a brief, chaste kiss, but a kiss nonetheless. and one that wasn't prompted by the appearance of mistletoe. there's not a sprig in sight. no, that kiss is all her; a thank you and a reassertion of control all in one.

withdrawing, she stands and heads for the ledge again, peering down at the darkening city streets below. ]

[ There. He did a good thing, said the right thing, and for a moment they're eye to eye and he expects that to be all it is.

And then she kisses him - a gentle, brief kiss - and in the grand scheme of things it isn't the longest or the fieriest or...what was it that they said about the perfect kiss? Weightlessness. It was just a little kiss, but it was bigger than any alternative. It meant everything and nothing at once. If Q was going to break down why she did it, question what it was for (out loud or even just in his head) then first he had to get his brain to start working again.

It had never done this before - simply stopped dead, like something colliding with the ever present immovable object - all the magnificently complex system of gears grinding to an untimely halt.

Wordless, he stares into the empty chair, then at least manages to reassert function enough to look after her, where she's moved to stand beside the ledge. Any second now. Computer? Are you there, computer? Oh, here's the on switch. Electronic horses--there we go. Just give him a moment. ]

[ when he fails to trail after her like she expected he'd do, kathryn glances over her shoulder to find him sitting in the exact spot she left him, as if he's suddenly an android whose programming has run into a bit of trouble when it comes to processing the data surrounding her impromptu, mistletoe-less kiss. she can't help but find amusement in that — and something of the upper hand. forever the strategist, regardless of whether she's engaged in battle, on duty, or not, kathryn files away this knowledge for later. who knows, being able to render q speechless may come in handy one day.

the street lamps start to come on as she returns her attention to the city below. it's larger than her ship, yet somehow feels so much smaller. like a cage or a corner of the brig. she's not a woman who was meant to be contained within the walls of anything, much less this place. she's suited to space for that reason, and doubts she ever would've been happy with the life the scientist she initially aimed to be. she liked her labs, but she would go mad laboratory-bound. being able to travel freely and see the new, unexplored, undocumented mysteries the delta quadrant had to offer is one of the many things she misses about returning to her proper linear existence. here, everything is ancient history, like chapters of a holonovel she never really cared for stuck on repeat. ]

Things ought to return to normal by midnight.

[ He didn't think very many things would return to normal by midnight. Nothing was going to change the fact that she'd slammed a quick kiss down on him for some reason. But okay, here came his mind to catch him up on what was going on, on the fact that her action was a reclamation of her free will, a reminder to herself that not only was she capable of making decisions on her own, it wasn't the act of kissing that had bothered her--she'd said as much, hadn't she? It was how out of her control the act had been. Perhaps this was her way of proving it; proving it was hers alone.

And he had just found himself in the crossfire. She trusted him, that was what it really meant. After all she'd already threatened him - Borg Queen immolating eyes and all - to keep quiet about this conversation--presumably kisses and all.

There. He felt much better now he was a little more up to speed with what was going on. He rose at last, coming over to join her in her overseeing of the city. ]

I should have brought cards. [ He inclines his head. ] When was the last time you danced, Madame Captain?

[ normal was relative, of course. kathryn herself was far from normal. she was extraordinary under the the most mundane of circumstances, and while well aware of it, didn't flaunt it. unless flaunting it got someone to eat out of the palm of her hand, then... but she was quickly figuring out that she didn't even have to try when it came to q. she could likely hold his attention while reciting some of the doctor's poetry. she had to admit — it made her feel pretty powerful, especially since she knew it would be like this whether his powers were fully intact or not.

he was like — what was that he called her on that weekend he doesn't remember? a firecracker? — he was like a moth to the flame. and she was the flame. ]

If I say with Jim Kirk during an old Earth holiday called Halloween, are you going to torment me about it?

[ To be fair, he'd probably have followed Picard around in earnest if only he'd been there, and if Kirk was the only one present, well, he'd follow him around too. But Janeway was here, so she got the full weight of his attention. And yes, there was more to it than that. She really was spellbinding--he wouldn't have selected her otherwise. He hadn't had the chance to spend this much time with her before, able to call on her as he pleased, and the longer he spent in her company the more he found he respected and cared for her; an advantage Picard would never quite have.

She could tell, and he knew that she would use it against him, not that he resented it--not at all! He was Q, after all. Anything less than respect for what he might be capable of wasn't worth his time, and she wouldn't be Kathryn Janeway if she didn't size up every interaction for the advantages it might grant her. ]

Another curse, I suppose?

[ And that was the point. He offered his hand toward her, smiling something warm and secret. ]

In the interest of free will, then.

Not exactly, but you can call it a curse if it's too hard to believe I attended the festivities of my own accord — and in costume, too. Gold isn't my color. [ it isn't a stretch, being that she wasn't there to mingle. october had been a string of one deadly curse after another, and she'd placed herself at that party deliberately to be on hand if anything else happened with that many people consolidated in one area. the costume? blending in. going with one of kirk's uniforms made her feel only slightly less ridiculous.

she eyes that hand for a moment, then takes it. ] Just don't step on my toes.

Edited 2013-12-16 00:43 (UTC)

[ If her moving in means the transport of her wardrobe (it might), he'll no doubt question her about that particular item, but for now he's oblivious. He has this moment, and as she accepts her hand he carefully steps into her, flawlessly appropriating the perfect waltz frame, one hand in hers his other on her shoulder, elbow raised to shoulder height. ]

The Q seek out whatever novelty they can, and ballroom dancing is infinitely more interesting than Vulcan meditation. I might have picked up a few things. Unless you're an Argentinian Tango sort of girl?

[ Because if she was--well, he would be more than happy to oblige. But for now, he leads in a traditional box step, starting slowly enough to allow her get her bearings. ]

No tangos. I was forced into ballet growing up. I make a point not to engage in anything more complicated than that which I learned in command school.

[ dancing! a little known command requirement. you never know when you're going to be heading up a first contact situation or invited to a gala on behalf of the federation. being able to participate in dances reflected well on yourself, as well as the rest of starfleet. not that she wouldn't be able to pick up on and keep up with a tango, having a background in dancing. ~~even though canon mentions this like once and then promptly forgets about it WRITERS /shakes fist~~ which is why it's not just the command training that has her falling into step so easily with the pattern he's laid out, still tense in some ways, but relaxing in others. ]

It's fine. I'd offer - given ample opportunity - to school you in something more exciting, but--no, it's probably not your thing. The waltz. The waltz is the dance for Kathryn Janeway. Elegance and poise, no hair out of place.

[ He's winding her up. Q dances the line somewhere between teasing and compliments, it's hard to know which. He knows she isn't all waltz (as he suggests) nor indeed ballet, for they hardly capture her full spirit, and no wonder she disliked the learning experience. Paso doble, he thinks. That would suit her just fine.

The rhythm is gentle, predictable. Without music, it's a conversational dance, not breathless spinning or an attempt to mangle steps together when neither partner was psychic. That predictability in the face of so much out of their control made it almost safe. If everything else was out of control, there would still be this three beat rhythm. ]

Do you feel any better now?

[ A delicate approach to asking about the kiss. ]

[ she rolls her eyes at his words, falling easily back into step with old, familiar patterns of annoyance. but her expression softens — some, only some — when he asks that question. it's a simple question, one anyone else would likely be able to answer truthfully without hesitation. normally she wouldn't hesitate, but she also wouldn't offer up the truth. "i'm fine," she says. she's always fine. perfectly fine. but fine is far from what she is, but since when did not being fine stop her, hold her back? she hasn't been fine in years. ]

Honest answer or the answer I'd give everyone else? [ from chakotay to kirk to mccoy — "i'm fine." ]

Both are honest in their own way.

[ He knows the answer because he knows her, has slid in through the bulkheads of Voyager often enough in his roaming of infinity, son in tow. His head tilts slightly to one side, and his height absorbs the change in balance the inclination gives the dance. ]

You are fine. Perhaps coping would be a better word, but fine at least keeps people from asking questions, doesn't it?

[ But he knows better, which is why the topic stands at once an offering to discuss how she really feels, and an excuse for her to duck away from the details. ]