Past Time

Abbey Carter, abbey@repunk.com
VOY/TNG
1/1
Rating: Somewhere between R and NC-17.
Janeway/Lwaxana, Janeway/Picard, hints of J/7, J/C, J/Tu.
Archive: Sure ;)
Summary: Lwaxana Troi helps Janeway out with a few of her personal demons.
AN: For Kaite on the occasion of her 21st birthday. Year long may she possess the kind of chutzpah that it took for me to write this.

Silverware clatters, and Lwaxana snaps her thoughts back to the table with a start.

"Mrs. Troi, more wine?" Picard is concerned. More specifically, concerned that she's planning something involving him. His mind is so easy to read.

"No, no thank you, Jean-Luc." Lwaxana smiles broadly and looks to the place setting Deanna has just vacated. The child didn't eat half of her meal.

"Kathryn, as you were saying?"

The Admiral twirls pasta around her fork and holds her gaze on Picard.

It's rude to peer into a human's thoughts, but since when did Lwaxana observe every social nicety? Jean-Luc's mind is so boring...so predictable. But his friend Kathryn is another story. Lwaxana wants to know what the Admiral is thinking. But she doesn't, can't. It is clearly a form of Vulcan mental discipline. Nothing a daughter of Betazed can't break in time.

"I just read Seven's latest paper on Borg Shielding. Brilliant. Did you see it, Jean-Luc?" She says his name carefully, licks a drop of oil off her lip.

"I will be sure to find a copy."

Right now Jean-Luc is wondering just what his companion is thinking. He wants to know how her jaw would feel in his hands, how it would feel pressing against his face. He wants to know how he can find out.

"Jean-Luc! Deanna was telling me about repairs to the Enterprise. How are they coming?"

He is temporarily shocked, and nods sharply. "Very well. I appreciate your concern."

Lwaxana focuses on Kathryn's profile. Her mind is clouded by a fine mist of something like sadness. She smiles at Jean-Luc and retreats back into a place where Lwaxana cannot reach her.

Picard places his fork across his plate and stands.

"I must be going. Mrs. Troi, it was lovely seeing you. Kathryn." He grasps her hand and pulls away, imagining her fingers on his shoulders, his chest.

When Picard is gone, Kathryn turns to Lwaxana, heat and anger in every pore.

"Did you enjoy the meal?" She says, and her voice is clipped and frozen.

"Oh, yes. I have just a few questions."

"Those will have to wait." Kathryn grabs her coat and starts marching to the exit.

She leaves the dining room. Lwaxana pushes after her, twists the
Admiral's elbow until she is against the wall, cool and angry.

"Dear. I could help you."

"I need to be going." Kathryn doesn't move, though, and stands piercing
Lwaxana with phaser sharp eyes.

Lwaxana presses a thumb against Kathryn's neck. Kathryn thinks it is
too hot, her bones ache, and the replicator in her kitchen is still
giving scalding coffee. She is tempted to burn herself.

Lwaxana draws away, snaps a finger softly. They are in a dark, quiet
space.

"Wha-Where?"

"An empty room. Provided by the Q Continuum."

Lwaxana holds Kathryn's shoulder, feels the memories stream into the
space around them. Lwaxana feels her wrist, feels the memories
encircling her. She died. And then came back, thanking me for killing
her. I was fine until I saw her again. She rasps. The steel was cold on
my fingers. He was scared. It excited me. I'm sure Lessing knew. He had
to know. That I'd already been in hell for a long, long time.

Lwaxana removes Kathryn's vest, it falls with a thud to the invisible floor. He
came to me in the dark. He was worried and loving, but I didn't want to
leave that darkness. I couldn't.

Lwaxana wills Kathryn's thoughts to her own mind. Pushes Kathryn back,
pushes at her waist, pushes until her mind unfolds and the faces of too
many uniforms and too many stars surround her. She has never seen such
a dearth of fashion sense.

She didn't take a lover on Voyager. She loves them all. Comprehension
fills Lwaxana. She caresses Kathryn's back, comforts with her mind's
hand. A child shouldn't be alone for that long, no, not at all.

Kathryn's lips are soft on her own, they never kissed her, no no,
because the bridge is yours the bridge belongs to me.

Kathryn hasn't touched... Since Earth. And she takes a hold of Lwaxana,
traces her cheek. She doesn't want to be selfish. But that's alright,
Lwaxana strokes, because it is time for her to be selfish. Acceptable.
Past time.

I won't let you cross that line again I'm warning you I won't you cross that line again I'm warning you.

Lwaxana runs her hands across Kathryn's belly, slides off her shirt. It
is a good thing that she is so experienced with cleavage and various
restraints, because Kathryn's bra is of some hideous Starfleet issue.
It falls off, swishes on the floor.

Kathryn isn't repulsed yet. Lwaxana holds a breast, lowers her lips to
Kathryn's neck. Feels the moan she will not vocalize.

When Kathryn is naked before her, Lwaxana removes her hands, pauses.
Set a course. Kathryn is swollen, full. Lips, breasts, her center. Lwaxana tangles
their legs together, presses Kathryn's thighs, buttocks. Kathryn is
afraid, and she can't hide that from Lwaxana. Not now.

Lwaxana wills out the Borg and the memories with every touch. There is
a certain logic to your logic. Irrelevant. Will you one day abandon me?
Kathryn sees a face, sees faces. Her chest heaves. It is no shame, Lwaxana tells her as she slides her lips along the woman's belly, fits them around her thighs.

But this isn't what Kathryn wants. Soon Kathryn is wishing that the fingers pushing inside
her were slender and wrapped in steel. Lwaxana pushes her harder, faster until the ship and the hot fire and bitter smell of space are gone, tighter until Kathryn screams out loud, stars, space and glass surrounding her.

She sees sun burning green corn and the belly of a damp white sheet flapping in the breeze. And opens her eyes to an empty sky.

The doorway of the restaurant looms. Kathryn totters, stares at Lwaxana. Fingers hold her
neck.

She is empty. Empty beyond words. And now she knows. She is ready to be filled.

It is a strange sort of joy, the joy that follows loss. The kind that turns loss into a gain.

"Yes." Lwaxana chuckles and pulls her thumb away, and watches Kathryn walk into the sunlight.

 END