Star Trek: Voyager: Endgame

if you'd like to know. Everyone was so excited about your return. They feel like they own a celebrity dog. They'd be honored if you'd visit.”
    “Maybe I will,” she said, though in truth, she thought she probably wouldn't. She didn't know those dogs, those people. So much had changed. “Keep her, Mark. You've loved her and taken care of her for seven years. She's your dog, now.”
    He seemed about to argue, then took a long look at her and nodded. That, at least, hadn't changed. He knew her so well. He always had been able to see through her bravado. It was that quality that had made her fall in love with him in the first place.
    She sat on the couch that clashed horribly with the surroundings and indicated that he do likewise. Molly, relaxed and calm, began to sniff Janeway's unpacked things.
    They sat, stiffly. There were only a few inches of distance between them, but it might as well have been kilometers. Neither spoke for a while.
    Finally, Mark broke the uncomfortable silence. “Kathryn, this is awkward. For both of us. You know that if I believed you were alive and coming home, I'd have waited.”
    “Of course I do,” she said swiftly. “You did nothing wrong, Mark. I'd have done the same thing.”
    He looked haunted. “Would you? I wonder. It's just— Kathryn, we were friends long before we were anything else. I have always admired and respected you, and that hasn't changed. If anything, it's grown. You're . . . amazing to me. I think about you every day. Carla understands how important a person you were in my life. I'd like for you to continue to be in my life as it is now, with Carla and Kevin.”
    “Kevin?”
    “Our son.” He laughed. “He's a petty tyrant, but we love him. I'd like for him to get to know his aunt Kathryn.” His eyes were somber. “Will he?”
    There was no question in her mind, only happiness. She extended her left hand. He took it, squeezed it. “Of course,” she said. “I wouldn't miss being a part of that for the universe, Mark.”
    And for the first time since he'd walked back into her life, the ghost and shadows around his eyes lifted, and he smiled from his heart.
    * * *
    She had dinner with the Johnsons that night, and after a few strained minutes, Janeway found herself feeling right at home. The toddler Kevin was indeed a petty tyrant, but all was forgiven when he smiled. Not even Naomi Wildman had been so cute at that tender age.
    Mark's wife Carla was a lovely woman. She was a little younger than Janeway or Mark, with a sharp brain, a cheerful grin, and an easy manner that Janeway responded to immediately. Molly was obviously well loved and looked after, and as the evening progressed she seemed to remember Janeway a little bit more. It felt good.
    A brief crisis came when Carla, who had tried to actually bake a soufflé, yelped in the kitchen. She stuck her head out. “Mark, Kathryn . . . I'm so sorry. The dessert is a total disaster. I should have replicated it. I'm sorry,” she repeated.
    “Carla, it's all right. I'm so full from your delicious dinner that I probably wouldn't have done it justice anyway,” Janeway said. It was no lie; her stomach was straining.
    Carla seemed unduly distressed by the fallen soufflé. Janeway sensed it was more than just a failed dessert. Mark suggested that they take coffee outside. It was a balmy summer evening, and the Johnsons lived in the country. Janeway eased back in her chair and inhaled the redolent scents of roses and grass. Mark had gone in to get them each a second cup of coffee, and Carla took the opportunity to be blunt.
    “I was quite jealous, you know,” she said, cutting to the chase. Janeway looked over at the younger woman. “Really?”
    She nodded her head earnestly. “Really. It was always Kathryn this, Kathryn that. He had such a great relationship with you that it was like you were always present, even when it was just the two of us.”
    Janeway put her elbows on the table and regarded the young woman intently. “I'm no threat to you, Carla.”
    “Oh!” Carla's eyes flew wide. “Oh, Kathryn, no, that's not what I meant! I meant that you seemed like such a wonderful person that I was jealous of Mark for having been so close to you. I wished I'd known you, too. I wished I'd had a Kathryn Janeway to go to with all my problems. And now—well, look at you! You're a hero, and my house is a mess and my soufflé fell!”
    No wonder Mark had fallen in love with this beautiful woman. What a generous