I Am Kathryn's. . . .

Synopsis: A meaningful relationship is built upon many grounds!

Disclaimer: Paramount/Viacom, yadda yadda yadda yadda. Me? Nada.

  It is late and, once again, she turns to me. Shutting out the pressures of duty as she enters her readyroom, it is only with me that she can find comfort. I await her firm touch, cradling me and bringing me closer and closer to those barely parted lips. Soft flesh compresses slightly against me and I warm as her involuntary sigh of relaxation signals her pleasure at my presence. She sips and another sigh, replete with satisfaction, assures me that, once again, I have been the instrument of Kathryn Janeway's truest happiness this day.

  I am Kathryn's coffee cup.

  I'm not the first she has had aboard this ship. I first came into being when we were already in the Delta Quadrant, replacing, according to the word of her deskcomp, a far snippier mug. Deskcomp and I have a close friendship, even more so than I've managed to strike up with the coffee table, although that may seem odd to some. Coffee table, alas, resides beside the couches, across the room from deskcomp's more formal perch. Kathryn seems to prefer the desk, for she almost always brings me here when she's ordered her latest brew from the replicator. The three of us, deskcomp, Kathryn and I, have a close relationship, based upon respect and need. Deskcomp and I have argued many times over who is closest to our dear captain, but even he had to concede the fact that she carried me around and cradled me close to her body must be a sign of greater intimacy.

  What's that? Door politely chimes to let us know an intruder's coming to break up our quiet morning. It's him, of course. They talk, but I'm too wrought up to follow the conversation, except to notice that they're talking about the juice. Bah! Kathryn with a juice glass? I don't see her having that kind of relationship! Ah, now he's leaving, all smiles. Convinced, I suspect, that his plan to alienate me from Kathryn's affections has worked. No more 'fresher for me--I'll be recycled, I know it.

  But what? The half-empty juice glass is picked up and deposited in the recycler. Kathryn turns back to her desk and reaches for me! Joy, bliss! She brings me up to her mouth and sips delicately at the tepid coffee I pro-offer. I feel the satisfied curve of her lips trace the line of my rim. Yes, he may think he's won, but Kathryn and I know that our bond will never be severed.

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