NODA
********
Janeway stood before the entrance to the holodeck. It was late. She should be asleep, but thoughts of her earlier conversation with Chakotay had prevented that. She didn't know why she was so anxious; after all, she'd gotten to know Miller quite well in the time they spent together in Ste. Claire.
"Computer, access historical archives: June 20th, 1945, Ste. Claire, France. The Americans' encampment, time index, 18:30 hours." Two weeks after the American's had arrived. There should at least be a truce by now, Janeway reasoned; Miller would still be in France.
"Program loaded and ready," the computer announced. The doors retracted, revealing a temporary encampment of tents, stretching in every direction over the fields outside Ste. Claire. Perhaps she should have been more specific, she thought, narrowed down the search parameters. She felt out of place, attracting the stares of soldiers as she walked by in a dress, carrying a bottle of wine. Although, if she'd worn pants she probably would have attracted even more odd stares, as she had upon her first meeting with Miller. Maybe she should have sent him a message to meet her at the *Coeur de Lion*, but she thought it was better to come to him; she didn't know if he were too busy to see her here, let alone take the time to come into the town.
"Excuse me," Janeway said, coming up to a sandy-haired soldier. "Could you tell me where I might find Captain Miller?" The man looked her up and down, obviously appreciating the view. Janeway noticed something oddly familiar about the young man. Looking at his jacket she read the name, "Davis," the man Tom was in the Hirogens version of World War II. Well, if noting else, the invaders had cast their roles accurately. The man before her bore a striking physical resemblance to Tom, as well as possessing his cocky attitude.
"Lieutenant Davis, It's good to see you again," Janeway said. "I'm glad to see you weren't one of the Nazi's casualties."
"We were lucky; the 'Cavalry' showed up just in time. Have you seen or heard from Brigitte?" he asked, anxious for news. "She said she'd come see me, but I haven't heard a thing."
"She's fine," Janeway said, assuming since B'Elanna hadn't been hurt, Brigitte was safe as well. "There's a lot of work to be done cleaning up; I'm sure she'll contact you as soon as she can."
"I hope she's not over-doing it," he said, the worry evident in his voice.
"We're all keeping an eye on her," Janeway assured him.
"So, you're here to see Captain Miller, huh?" he said, changing the subject, pushing his helmet further back on his head, chewing a piece of gum with exaggeration. "Keep heading down that way," he said, pointing to his right. "He's at the end of the row on the left."
"Thank you," she said, turning to leave.
"Man, that Miller's one lucky son-of-a-bitch," a man cleaning a gun next to Davis commented.
Davis slapped his arm, "Hey, watch your mouth! She probably heard that!"
Indeed she had. On the one hand she could take it as a compliment, on the other was the implication that she was there for more than just conversation. Of course she could hardly blame the soldiers for their speculation. A woman shows up with a bottle of wine in the middle of an encampment, what were they *supposed* to think? Again she wished she'd been more specific in her request of location. But she was here now; she wouldn't start the program again just to save herself a little embarrassment. Head high, she continued down the make-shift avenue of tents until she reached the last one. The sun was beginning to set and there was a light illuminating the tent Davis had indicated as Miller's. Janeway caught sight of distorted shadows reflected on the canvas as Miller moved around his temporary home. Hesitating for a moment, she cleared her throat.
"Captain Miller?"
"Yes! What is it?" he snapped. He hadn't even noticed the voice was female. Janeway was about to speak when he called out again, "Well? Come in!"
Taking a deep breath, Janeway parted the flaps at the entrance of the tent. Miller's back was to her, standing at a table that served as his desk. He was riffling through some papers, comparing it to the map covering the table.
"I don't have all day," he growled again. The voice was different, his pronunciation not quite the same as Chakotay's.
"Hello, Miller," she said simply.
Miller's dark head shot up as he whirled around. "Katrine? My God, how did you get here? *What* are you doing here?"
"I came to see how you were," Janeway answered with a crooked smile. She stood before him examining him as he was her, but she suspected his scrutiny was for different reasons than her own. She was looking for Chakotay in the man before her, trying to decided just whom she'd spent the night with.
Physically he resembled Chakotay: Dark hair and eyes, although his skin was a bit lighter. It was almost like looking at a distortion of her First Officer; similar enough that she might have mistaken Miller for him, yet not him at the same time.
"Katrine? Are you feeling okay?" Miller asked, taking a step closer to her.
"I'm fine, it's just strange, seeing you here like this," Janeway said, almost smiling at the double meaning of her words. Miller stared at her for a long moment then said,
"God, you look fabulous! I was going to come see you, as soon as things settled down a little. As you can see," he said gesturing around the tent, "they haven't yet."
"I understand," she reassured him, "it's like that with my place; I'm not sure it'll ever be the same."
Miller nodded with understanding. Suddenly realizing she was still standing, he swept a stack of paperwork off his bunk and offered her a seat.
"Please, sit down." His eyes raked her form as Janeway sank to the low bed, crossing her legs. Noticing the appreciation she saw there she smiled,
"I told you I had a dress." Miller blushed, having been caught in the act of appraising her. Pulling up a camp chair, he took a seat across from her. Eyes once again on the exposed length of her leg, Miller asked,
"How's your leg? You had it looked at, right?"
"Good as new," she said, pulling up her dress to show him before she realized what she was doing. She hadn't really thought about the action since she wasn't revealing anything more than a larger portion of her leg, but the action caught Miller off guard, causing her to remember this man's perceptions of modesty. He reached out to touch the spot where two weeks ago there had been a gaping wound, and now, completely healed flesh.
"That's amazing!" he said, the look in his eyes making Janeway wonder if he were referring to her miraculous healing or a comment on her leg in general. Miller's hand still rested on her thigh and she wondered at her lack of response to it. Granted, Miller was a hologram, but she could feel the weight and warmth of his hand. But there was nothing more. Nothing like the charge she felt when she and Chakotay occasionally made contact. For some reason, that thought heartened her and disturbed her at the same time. It *had* been Chakotay she'd responded to in the deserted winery, but if it were he, and not Miller she'd been making love to, that complicated things. She'd almost hoped it had been Miller that she'd been attracted to. She could share a glass of wine with him, tell him it had been a wonderful night, but that's all it was. A by-product of the war. Now she saw devotion in the eyes of the man before her, hurting him wasn't what she had come here for. She simply wanted to tell him good-bye and get on with her life aboard *Voyager.*
"I'm sorry, Miller," she said with genuine regret as she pushed her dress back down, taking his hand along with the material. He tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace.
"It's that guy who you confused me with, right? Chak, Chuck or something," he said.
Janeway ducked her head. "Chakotay, yes."
"Doesn't sound very French," Miller said, uncertain how to clear the tension that had settled over them.
"He's not," was all Janeway said, still not wanting to meet his gaze. She stood, pacing the confines of the tent, leaving the bottle of wine to roll into the impression her body had left on his cot.
"I met him about four years ago. He was an enemy to my cause and I was sent to stop him."
"He's a Nazi?" Miller asked incredulously.
"No," she said, smiling slightly at the thought, trying to think of generalized statements that Miller could relate to. "But he was working against my people, my principles. I found out that much of the information I'd been given about him and his followers was inaccurate, so I didn't hesitate to ask for his help when we faced a larger, common enemy. Apparently he saw the advantage of combining our forces as opposed to fighting each other; we became allies."
"Have you told him how you feel about him? You claimed he was a friend, I take it you've never told him you love him."
Janeway's head snapped up. "I didn't say I loved him."
Miller's smile grew as he rose to stand before her, "You didn't have to." Suddenly the smile faded, as he gripped her upper arms, halting her before him. "Katrine, I'm not going to tell you it doesn't hurt like hell to think of you with another guy. I thought we had something special back there, I was hoping. . . well, let's just say I was considering staying in France after the war. But now I know that's not going to happen."
Janeway's gaze softened, eyes clouding up. "Oh, Miller. I didn't mean to hurt you. I don't know how things got so out of hand that night. If it hadn't been for the fever, the fear I was feeling for my people, for you," she added. "Despite what you may think, I've become very fond of you."
"Fond," he said, stepping away from her, obviously not the words he was hoping to hear. "I guess I knew it was too much a long shot to think you cared for me the way I cared. . .care for you."
"It was one night. We spent a little over twenty-four hours together. You really don't know me," Janeway said, gently.
"No," he said, turning around to face her. "But I was looking forward to finding out."
Janeway sighed. "Chakotay's really not the issue," she said. "I have too many commitments, too many other people to think about to get involved with anyone right now."
"Katrine," Miller said, coming closer to her again, "you don't have to do this alone. You said yourself you and this Chakotay are allies. Let him help you, let him take some of the weight from you. It'll only make you stronger if you accept him. In every way," he added pointedly.
Janeway found herself staring at him again. Instead of traces of Miller showing up in Chakotay, it seemed her first officer was showing up in Miller! If she didn't know better, she would have accused Chakotay of re-programming the American with his words. But that was ridiculous. Besides the late hour, Chakotay had no knowledge of what portion of the program she was running. It was just further evidence that the parts in this simulation had been cast with precision.
"I wouldn't have thought you'd be playing the Devil's advocate," Janeway said with a wry smile.
"It's not a role I would have chosen, but I know when to accept defeat; when to fall back and take my losses in the hopes of fighting again."
"You'll have your chance," she said. He gave her a small, shy smile, trying to take her rejection with a modicum of grace.
"I'm sorry I have nothing to offer you to drink," he said, in an effort to change the subject.
"That's why I brought this," Janeway said, crossing over to his bed, retrieving the bottle of wine. "It's the good stuff," she said. Contrary to popular belief, the Nazis don't know every hiding place in Ste. Claire!"
Miller produced two tin army-issue cups. "Not exactly fine crystal, but I guess they'll do."
"They'll do just fine," she reassured him, uncorking the bottle, pouring equal amounts into each of their cups. Placing the bottle on his desk, she raised her cup to his,
"To the end of the Occupation and this cursed war," she said.
"And to new friends," he added. Janeway inclined her head towards him as she touched her cup to his, then took a sip.
"You're right," Miller said, tilting his head appreciatively. "This is the good stuff. Thank you."
"It's the least I could do for all you've done for me," Janeway answered honestly. Sitting back down on Miller's cot, she found herself feeling self-conscious, unsure what to say next.
"I think you should tell him. I think he deserves to know."
Janeway nearly spilled her wine down the front of her dress. "Wh. . .what?"
"How you feel about him. Don't you think he deserves the truth?" Again Miller's words could be taken two ways. The truth of how she felt about Chakotay, or the truth of what happened between them on the holodeck.
"I told you, Miller, I don't love him. Well, I'm not *in* love with him," Janeway amended.
"I don't know why you're trying to talk yourself out of it, Katrine. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. I can't imagine he doesn't feel the same way about you," he said, looking down at his cup of wine, attempting to hide the emotion that had come to his eyes.
"It's complicated, Miller," Janeway sighed, looking down at her own cup. Suddenly she looked up. "Do you have a first name?"
A huge grin spread across his face. "Yeah, funny. . .after all that's happened, I never told you. It's Joe."
"You're kidding, right?"
His smile grew even wider, "It's really Joe," he said. "I probably suffer from the same embarrassment every German called 'Fritz' goes through. I really am an American Joe!"
Janeway smiled, placing her hand on his. "Well, Joe, I think it's a nice name, it suits you."
"Don't think you're going to get out of it that easily," Miller said, tossing back the last of his wine.
"Get out of what?" she asked, genuinely confused.
"Explaining to me why you won't tell Chakotay how you feel." It was an odd sensation to be talking to him this way. It reminded her of her first encounter with Miller when Chakotay wasn't aware of who she was.
"It's hard for me to talk to you about this," she replied honestly, "you remind me too much of him."
"So I've been told," he said, holding his cup out as Janeway offered more wine. "It could work to your advantage, make it easier to tell him once you've told me."
"Why are you doing this? You just told me that if things were different, you'd be interested in pursuing me. How can you sit there, pushing me at another man? Why aren't you trying to talk me *out* of telling him how I feel?"
Miller was silent for a moment. "Because I'm a fool. Seriously, Katrine, I can see how your eyes change when you mention his name; they don't do that when you say mine." There was a sadness in his voice, but no self-pity, just a statement of facts. "If I thought there was anyway you'd ever feel about me the way you do him, I'd be over there so fast, pushing your back to the cot, making love to you. . . ." he took a swallow of the burgundy. "But as you see, I'm still sitting here."
Janeway felt here eyes tearing up again, but she was speechless.
"So don't let my sacrifice be in vain, okay? I may not be the lucky one, but someone out there is; he deserves to know how lucky he is."
"I'll talk to him," she whispered, still unsure of just what it would be she'd tell Chakotay, but she'd figure that out later. At least Joe Miller had helped her decide to meet Chakotay half way, to tell him what had been bothering her these past weeks.
"So, what are your plans? When your tour of duty ends?" Janeway asked conversationally.
"I hadn't really thought about it recently. I guess in the back of my mind I always thought I'd go home, look up Betty Anderson, maybe think about settling down. Now, I don't know."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, Katrine, you're kind of a tough act to follow, you know?" His sad smile was breaking her heart.
"I never meant for this to happen," Janeway stated again.
"I don't suppose you did. No one goes looking for love in the middle of a war. Believe me, no one's more surprised than me."
"I'm not sure I know what you're getting at," she said, taking a sip of her wine. The liquid was beginning to take on the tinny taste of the cup.
Now it was Miller's turn to pace. "When I first met you, you aggravated the hell out of me," he said with slightly embarrassed grin. "You came charging out of that access tunnel with the blonde, issuing orders like you owned the place."
"I do," Janeway said, her own smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. "And what about you and your condescending attitude?" she reminded him. "You didn't exactly make me want to team up with you when you were treating me like a child."
"I'm sorry about that. I guess I *was* judging you by the women I knew back home. You proved to me quickly enough how wrong I was." He turned to face her, "you've got guts, lady; I never thought it was a trait I'd find myself attracted to, but I am. I don't suppose you have any unmarried sisters at home, do you?" he teased, trying to lighten the mood.
"As a matter of fact, I do," Janeway said, thinking of Phoebe. "But I don't think you'd get along; she's even more stubborn than I am."
"Another trait I'm discovering the merits of. I don't think we would have got as far as we did if you hadn't been. I meant to tell you how bravely you handled that gun-shot wound. There aren't many who'd take it in stride, if you'll pardon the expression, as you did."
Janeway smiled at his pun. "Striding wasn't my top priority. Getting us to safety was; my being shot was an inconvenience that had to be overcome," she said without a trace of hubris. Miller simply nodded at her perception of the situation.
"Can you tell me one thing?" he asked. "When we were. . .together I know you thought I was Chakotay--I led you to believe that I was--but I was wondering," he hesitated, "was any of it for me?"
His voice had grown so soft, Janeway had to strain to hear him. How was she to answer him? It was the same question she'd been wrestling with since she'd woke in his arms.
"Yes," she said. "You were there too." Miller's expression was unreadable. It could have been sadness or joy, she couldn't tell which, perhaps it was a combination of the two. He pulled her into an embrace, just holding her until Janeway stepped away from him. Wiping at a stray tear that had managed to escape, she said,
"I've got to be going." Reaching up, pulling his head down to meet her own, she touched her lips to his in a gentle, farewell kiss.
"Good-bye, and thank you," she said, starting to leave. Stopping at doorway, turning back to face him, she said, "If you do marry some girl back home, and she asks you what it was like in France during the war?" Janeway paused then gave him a bright smile. "Tell her the experience of the wineries is not to be missed."
The End