The Coffee Nebula Board is for the discussion of Star Trek: Voyager and other sci-fi/cult shows. This is its Archive of episode discussions, top ten lists, fan fiction, and other miscellaneous musings.


As The Rotisserie Turns

That's very sweet, Annie. This isn't. VC: As the Rotisserie Turns
Ginny — 18 Sep 1998, 7:48 AM

(Sorry, guys. I just couldn't resist.)

Tom paused in the doorway, his back to Kathryn. "Is she gone yet?" Tom asked, looking back over his shoulder.

"I'll check," Kathryn replied, and walked over to the front window. Pulling the lace sheer aside, she watched Clare Darrow climb into her buggy, take the reins in hand, and head off down the drive. "Yes, she's gone."

"Thank God," Tom exhaled explosively and flopped gracefully into the nearest armchair. "I hate it when we have to do that stupid mother-son thing anymore."

Kathryn turned around and moved over to sit at the end of the coffee table in front of Tom's chair. She place a hand gently on Tom's knee and said sympathetically, "I know, I know. But you need to be patient, Tom."

Tom folded his arms across his chest and frowned at her. "I'm tired of being patient, Kathryn. I want to get it out in the open and end this charade."

Kathryn withdrew her hand and stood up. "Now is simply not the best time, Tom." She paused. "I received a telegram from Senator Paris' office yesterday." Tom looked up quickly, surprise and trepidation showing on his fair features. "Your father has been offered a seat on the President's Cabinet."

"Which one?" Tom asked, a frown again creasing his forehead.

"Secretary of the Health and Welfare. So you can imagine the effect that an announcement that the Senator is a widower with two children from a secret marriage and has kept that knowledge from his family and his constituency for over thirty years would have on his chances of being confirmed to the Cabinet."

Tom's expression hardened and his mouth twisted bitterly. "It's always something, isn't it? It's never convenient for Daddy, is it?"

"It won't last much longer, Tom. Once your father is confirmed, we'll force the issue with him. I promise. But until then, you have to bide your time." She tried to read the expression in his eyes, but Tom turned his head away and wouldn't look at her. Kathryn leaned forward, taking Tom's chin in her hand, and tilted his face up toward hers. Still, he wouldn't meet her eyes. She squeezed his chin and chided him gently. "Don't sulk, Tom. It was barely tolerable when you were ten and cute. It's most unbecoming in a thirty-year-old man." Then she leaned down and kissed him softly on the corner of his mouth, which twitched slightly as he tried not to smile.

"Are you saying that I'm not cute anymore, Kathryn?" Tom finally looked up into her eyes, and Kathryn kissed him again, lightly, on the mouth, released his chin, and stood up.

"Not at all, Tom. Are we agreed then? We wait until after your father is confirmed to the Cabinet before we say anything." Kathryn put her hands on her hips and looked at him expectantly. Tom exhaled in a manner that was half sigh, and half amused snort.

"Yes, ma'am."

Relieved, Kathryn smiled approvingly at her "son" and crossed her arms. "Good. Now...where's that damn Indian?"

VC: As the Rotisserie Turns, The Grease Sizzles
Ginny — 18 Sep 1998, 8:58 AM

Raising her voice, Kathryn called out, "Chakotay! Get out here now!"

An obviously irritated foreman emerged through the side door. "Since when do I get sent to the kitchen like some flunky, Kathryn?"

"Since you burst into the house acting like a deranged idiot in front of a extremely high-priced and unduly curious city lawyer."

Chakotay looked somewhat abashed at her comment. "Well, hell--how was I supposed to know she was in here?" he asked grumpily.

"You could have asked your spirit guide," Tom suggested from the depths of his armchair. "Or hey, how about this, Mr. Native American--you could have tracked the trail of that big ol' buggy that was parked out in front of the ranch house."

"Be quiet, Tom," Kathryn admonished, placing a restraining hand on the foreman's arm, as the older man started to move menacingly toward Tom. "Now what's all this about B'Elanna and Tom, Chakotay?"

Chakotay gestured angrily at Tom. "That walking hormone over there is sniffing around my daughter. B'Elanna really believes he's seriously interested in her, but I know better."

Tom leaned forward, his hands gripping the arms of the chair, a slight edge to his voice. "She's an adult, Chakotay. She can pick her own dates."

"Well, I'm her father," Chakotay replied. "And I don't want her picking you, for dates or otherwise." Chakotay folded his arms, set his jaw, and attempted to stare Tom down. But Tom wasn't in the mood to be stared down.

"You know what they say, Chakotay. You can want in one hand, and sh--"

Kathryn interrupted, saying sternly, "Tom, that's enough." Tom jerked his head around to look at her accusingly, half rising out of his chair, but Kathryn gave him The Look, and he shut his mouth and sat back down.

"You know, Kathryn," Chakotay said, in a surprisingly conversational voice. "I really don't think you spanked him enough as a child."

Kathryn looked at him sharply, and her lips curved up ever so slightly. "Actually, I did. But when he turned sixteen, I decided to ground him, instead of spanking him, since it was beginning to appear that he rather liked it." Tom smirked at her and waggled his eyebrows at Chakotay.

"Pervert," Chakotay muttered darkly, glaring at Tom.

"Prude," Tom retorted amiably, toeing off his boot and rubbing his instep along the outside of Kathryn's calf.

Chakotay's eyes narrowed, and he moved closer to Kathryn, his expression turning ugly. "Balding libertine."

"Tattooed freak."

Kathryn threw up her hands and rolled her eyes. "Oh, good grief. Tom, get your foot off me immediately, and Chakotay, stop breathing down my neck. Honestly, you two are worse than kindergartners."

Tom removed his foot, crossed his ankles provocatively --How does he do that, with one boot on and one boot off? Kathryn mused absently--and grinned recklessly at Chakotay. "What's the matter, big guy? Afraid I'll take your daughter and your girl?"

Chakotay replied with an obvious effort at remaining calm. "Kathryn can take care of herself, but I'm warning you, Tom. Stay away from B'Elanna."

Tom stood slowly, a dangerous glint in his eye. "Oh, bite me, Chakotay. Oops, too late. B'Elanna already has."

With a roar of rage, Chakotay launched himself at Tom, and the men fell against the couch in a tangle of short punches and kicks. With a disgusted sigh, Kathryn dropped her head into her hands and massaged her temples. Hearing a lamp crash to the floor and the men roll off the couch with a thud and assorted grunts, she raised her head and walked over to open the side door.

"Freddie! FREDDIE! Bring me a couple of buckets of water, pronto. The colder, the better."