Chapter Text
It had been close on a week now that Admiral Kathryn Janeway had woken up in a cold sweat from a nightmare.
At first, it was hazy, disjoined images that did not make sense. But wasn’t that the nature of dreams?
The first night, she’d chalked it up to the extra helping of tiramisu that she’d had for dessert with the Paris family. Twenty-year-old Miral Paris had, thankfully, inherited her father’s flare for cooking and had tried out a new menu. The current object of her affection was of Italian descent, and she was hoping to impress him with her Bagna Cauda and tiramisu for dessert.
The second night (or was it day), she went with the Doctor to see a stage production of Don Quixote: The Lord of La Mancha by the Royal Shakespeare Company. With both their significant others away on work assignments, they decided to keep each other company and go to the theatre and then dinner thereafter, back in San Francisco.
A tortured Don Quixote haunted her dreams that night accusing her of having being the cause of his death.
The twins were home on the third night so Kathryn stayed home and had dinner with her children. They discussed their Academy assignments, practical training scenarios and the Voyager family and any updates. The twins were at the academy with many of the Voyager crew offspring along with having a few of the ex-crew as their lecturers, so there was always news.
“When Jackson asked the commander who was the most difficult captain to act as security for, he answered…”
“Captain Kathryn Janeway…” the twins chorused together with smug expressions.
“She had no regard for her own personal safety,” Tei parroted on and merely chuckled when the “admiral” turned on her death glare guaranteed to quell unruly cadets and ensigns. Except when those cadets or ensigns were your own children.
Commander Mika Ayala’s Security & Tactics class was always a hit with the students and Kathryn always felt a moment of pride to know that she had played a small part in his development to the outstanding officer and lecturer that he’d become.
That night, Kathryn dreamed of Cavit and Stadi who circled her on the bridge of Voyager hissing at her through clenched teeth that it was HER fault that they were dead and would never see their families again.
And it was Maquis Mike Ayala who stepped between her and the ghostly images and protected her.
Lunch with Seven of Nine-sometimes-called-Annika Hansen was always interesting.