Unexpected Part Four By Angela Higbee
E-mail: Piscean_Angel@Hotmail.com

Well, here it is, and only about a day late, too! Sorry--posting stuff doesn't work too well without access to a computer... But enjoy it, and tell me what you think! (PLEASE!)

Disclaimer in part one.

Captain Janeway sat on the couch, looking out at the stars. Usually, this helped calm her, helped her put everything in perspective. But not tonight. Tonight, the stars just helped to emphasize how much things had changed. Her quarters were now on the other side of the ship, and, though she couldn't see how, the streaking stars out her window seemed different somehow.

Everything, it seemed, was different. Just over three months along now, pregnancy didn't come easily to Kathryn Janeway. She was tired, hungry, moody and emotional, gaining weight, and throwing up early every afternoon. Nothing the doctor could give her stopped the nausea of her "morning sickness", and he said her weight gain was normal for the mother-to-be of triplets. All she could think about was the larger uniform she had already replicated, but hadn't worn yet.

Though she and Tom had started out only telling the Senior Staff, the information was quickly out as B'Elanna needed to assign people to the task of renovating quarters for Janeway and Paris. Somehow, she still wasn't sure how, the story had come out, and everyone knew. Oh, people were excited, Naomi, it seemed, most of all, but no one knew how to take the announcement. They had all heard of the incident in which Tom had kidnapped Janeway, but only a few had known about the evolution part of it all. After it was all explained, the rumors had stopped; truth, in this case, was stranger than anything anyone could make up.

Janeway was moved into the new quarters already, but she didn't like them much. Too much space for just one person, she felt. She didn't need Tom yet, but the room was too large for her by herself.

She looked around. The doors would open to a large room, one side occupied by the couch beneath the window on which she now sat. Across the large room was the entryway into the nursery, a room now bare. It looked a lot like Tom's room currently did, dull, unadorned, sterile-looking. His door was to the left of the nursery, across the room from her own.

Two weeks after Janeway moved in, Tom began moving his own belongings in. Chakotay, still upset by the entire situation, asked her why he was moving in already, with just over five months to go until her due date.

Her first instinct was to tell him that it was none of his business, that it didn't concern him in the slightest. But if they were ever going to repair their relationship, whatever that would be, she had to give a little.

"We need to start decorating," she said slowly. "And he wants to be there, through all of this," she added, thinking her first reason wasn't much of one. "He doesn't want to miss anything."

Chakotay didn't seem satisfied with the answer, but let it go, leaving her quarters for his bridge shift.

At first, they tiptoed around each other, being overly polite, spending hours alone in their respective rooms. Until one night Tom came in early, to find Janeway crying softly on the couch.

She tried to stand, planning to quickly escape to her room, but she still wasn't used to her three-month pregnant body, and it slowed her down. Long enough for Tom to see her tears, to question them.

"Kathryn, are you alright?" he asked, using her first name as she had asked him to when he first moved in. "It doesn't make sense for you to call me 'captain' when we're off duty," she had told him. "Especially when we're going to be spending so much time together. Call me Kathryn."

She nodded an answer to his questio, standing in the middle of the room, her arms wrapped tightly around her.

Not knowing what else to do, Tom closed the distance between them, pulling her into his embrace. She didn't return the hold he had on her, just allowed herself to be held.

"I can't pretend to know what you're going through," he whispered into her hair. "But I want to know."

A moment later she pulled out of his arms, looking into his eyes. "Alright," she said, moving to sit back down on the couch.

He followed, sitting close to her while still giving her space.

"I'm scared," she admitted softly. She needed his comfort then and moved a bit closer, laying her head on his shoulder. She didn't continue talking until his arms were wrapped securely around her. "You won't hear me saying this often, but I feel so alone, so scared," she said, shivering as a chill came over her. Wordlessly, Tom pulled a crocheted blanket from the back of the couch, tucking it gently around her.

Words poured out of her as he held her, all of her fears about becoming a mother, about getting Voyager home, about raising three children in a situation there was no precedent for, no one to learn from.

By the time she finished, she had tears streaming down her face, and his arms held her tightly.

Neither one said anything for a long time. Tom didn't know how to respond, Kathryn didn't have anything else to add.

"Tom," she finally said, breaking the silence. "Here." She pulled one of his hands from behind her back and laid it over the side of her stomach. They both waited, barely breathing, until Kathryn felt the tiny kick again. She looked up to Tom, seeing in his face that he had felt it too. Moving his other hand to her other side she said, "I just started feeling them a few days ago."

Tom couldn't say anything, couldn't keep the awe from his expression. She watched him intently, enjoying the shared experience.

"Thank you," he said suddenly, his voice soft. "Thank you for showing me this." He hesitated, then his eyes locked with hers.

He slowly bent closer, hesitating again when his lips were not quite touching hers, giving her a chance to pull away. When she didn't, he closed that small space, brushing his lips across hers softly, as delicate as the faint fluttering he still felt beneath the palms of his hands.

Kathryn closed her eyes as he kissed her again, and she kissed him back. She hadn't been kissed in so long, and his mouth on hers felt so good. His lips were soft and warm, he tasted sweet and right and wonderful.

He gently broke the contact, standing after staring into her eyes for a beat. "Kathryn, I'm sorry," he quickly apologized. "I didn't mean--"

"Tom," she interrupted. "It's alright. I know."

He helped her stand, then kissed her quickly on the forehead before she headed into her own room. "Goodnight," he told her as she neared her door.

"Goodnight, Tom," she said. Then the doors closed behind her, and she was left alone.

She changed for bed and climbed in, reflecting on that kiss. And she found she didn't regret it. She wouldn't let it happen again, but she silently thanked him for that gift. She had felt overwhelmingly lonely for so many weeks now, and for the first time, those feelings weren't plaguing her. She wasn't aware so much anymore the loneliness. And at least she was no longer a woman, 4 months pregnant, who hadn't been kissed in nearly three years.

She understood how the moment had almost demanded they kiss. Sharing the magic of the life inside her had led him to kiss her, had connected them. She didn't want to take back those moments she had spent locked in a caring embrace, her lips pressed sweetly to Tom's.

Kathryn was afraid that the kiss they shared the previous night would strain thier already tense lives with each other. But she was wrong. If anything, it made it stronger.

She walked into the living room to find Tom sprawled across a chair, raidng one of the padds he had taken to carrying around lately. Curious, she aked what he was reading.

He flushed, but told her. "Parenting stuff," he asnwered with a shrug. "Child raising, pregnancy, names," he elaborated.

She nodded, understanding what he meant. "I understand," she smiled. "I can't seem to stop reading them, feling like I have so much to learn, and only a few mohts to learn it all."

He nodded, then reached for her had. His was woamr over hers. "Are you feeling better this morning?" he asked.

"Much," she answered truthfully. "When are you on duty today?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Late shift. You?"

"Same," she answered, wondering why it seemed they could never keep track of each other's schedules. "Do you have any plans today?"

"Just more reading, I guess," he shrugged.

Janeway took a breath. "I was thinking we could get started on the nursery," she suggested. "Start replicating dressers and cribs, bassinetts and stuffed animals."

Tom smiled at her enthusiasm. "I'll finish this chapter while you get dressed," he said. "Then we can talk about colors and designs."

"Alright," Janeway agreed with another smile. She stood, pulling the silk bathrobe tighter around her.

She showered and dressed, coming out in a pair of loose brown pants and a brown and off-white plaid flannel shirt. She had the sleeves rolled to above her elbows, and had left the top two buttons open. Her feet were bare, her hair tied back in a loose braid.

Tom smiled when he saw her. "Ready to start?" he asked.

"Did you finish your chapter?" she returned. She nodded after he did. "Aright then," she smiled. "Let's go."

The walked into the nursery together, and Tom looked around. "This is kind of dull, isn't it?" he observed.

Janeway nodded, but she didn't really mind it. On several occasions, she had come into the nursery, simply to think about her future, their future, in this room. But it did need color.

Tom was definitely thinking along the same lines she was, because he asked, "Did you have a particular color scheme in mind?"

"Two boys and a girl," she mused. "I've always liked green."

Tom nodded. "Sounds good. Maybe some white, just to brighten things up?"

She agreed. "First step," she said with an enthusiastic grin, "Is paint."

He simply followed her as she went to the computer and pulled up dozens of rows of tiny green squares.

They debated past lime and forest greens, finally settling on a light, pastel shade. Kathryn narrowed it down to two, enlarging the two squares for further comparison. She turned to him. "What do you think?" she asked, moving the screen so he could see it better.

Staring at the screen, Tom knew he was in trouble. He knew she wanted him to decide between colors 30142 and 30145, but he couldn't tell a difference between the two. "How about his one?" he suggested, nervously choosing #30142.

Janeway smiled. I was hoping you would pick that one," she said.

Tom resisted the urge to look at her then, not knowing if he would be able to hold a straight face if he did.

She replicated paint, brushes, rollers, pans and a floor covering. Tom went to change, trading in his slacks for jeans and a battered T-shirt.

When he came back in, Janeway already had all of the supplies in the nursery, and was pouring green paint into two pans. It was then that Tom noticed the flecks of paint on the shoulders and arms of her flannel shirt.

She caught him looking and laughed. "This is what I wore when I helped Samantha paint Naomi's nursery awhile ago," she explained. "It seemed appropriate."

They painted in silence, turning the gray walls green with wide sweeping strokes of a roller, or careful, precise brush strokes along edges and corners.

"We'll probably need two coats," Kathryn said, standing back to look at the wall she had just finished.

Tom came up beside her. "I think you're right."

She laughed. "And I think you just got paint on your sleeve," she said, pointing to a large green streak on his shirt. "I think it's my fault!" she had crossed her arms in front of her, paintbrush still in hand, and he had brushed up against it.

"Well, that isn't exactly fair, now is it?" he asked, a mischevious glint in his eye. Before she could jump back out of the way, he had painted a matching streak on her arm.

She laughed. "That wasn't smart, Tom," she bantered, reaching for the roller she had abandoned minutes before. She didn't stop rolling it across his back until the white T-shirt was decidedly green.

It was Tom's turn to smile when she finally put it down admiring her work. He reloaded his paintbrush, using it to fling drops of paint on her. She naturally retaliated, and soon they were laughing too hard to continue, both covered in paint. Kathryn had it in her hair, on her face, splattered across her shirt and pants. Tom's back was green, and he had crisscrossing lines of paint on his jeans, his face matching hers.

Tom took her hand to pull her to her feet, only he didn't stop back as he helped her up. This brought their bodies close together, and she could feel the warmth of his body against her slightly protruding stomach. She quickly took a step back.

"Sorry," she apologized with an embarrassed smile. "I'm probably a little heavier than you expected." She was laughing at the situation, but she wouldn't meet his eyes.

Tom took her by the hand, taking a step closer to her. "Don't," he said softly. She looked up to see what he meant. "Don't apologize." He pressed her own hand to her side, just as she had done to his the night before. "You are beautiful," he assured her. "What you are doing, providing life for them, is beautiful," he whispered.

Tears filled her eyes as her sensitive emotions took over. Time froze, and she knew that he wanted to kiss her again. She found she didn't want to resist, despite her previous decision that it couldn't happen again. His lips pressed to hers, and it was even better than it had been last time. Moments ago, she hadn't thought that would be possible, but his kisses made her mind reel, the room spin. She closed her eyes, giving herself up to the sensations.

It was Kathryn who ended the kiss this time, her rational thinking finally coming back to her. "We should get something to eat," she suggested. "We can finish this later."

He nodded, offering to let her use the single bathroom first. She showered and dressed, and thought. But try as she might, she couldn't figure out what role she now wanted Tom to play, what place he should now fit into in her life. And though she couldn't decide where he belonged, she knew she had to figure it out, before she fell in love with him. She only feared she didn't have too much time before that happened.