PART SEVENTEEN: LOVE, IN A SUBTLE DREAM DISGUISED
Summer 2380
Chakotay couldn't suppress a smile as Annika tickled their year old baby, Katie, until the infant crowed and gurgled happily. Katie reached forward with her pudgy arms and kissed Annika rather sloppily, which had the mother smiling as she hugged her baby. It was almost bedtime for Katie, and at this time of the day, just after the baby had her bath, Annika played with her. He had already had his turn and Katie had been lively then, screeching at the top of her voice when he played 'peekaboo' with her. Now the baby was fast winding down. Very soon, Annika would tuck her in and she'd be gone, sleeping the night through.
Katie had just begun to take her first steps and his heart had burst with pride when he had watched her the previous day, as she pulled herself up against a table leg and then took a few steps towards him. Annika had given a quirky smile as she watched Katie toddle, a smile that was full of love and motherly pride.
Chakotay gave a sigh of contentment. Occasionally there was a perfect moment when everything came together and they were perfectly happy. Like this moment, as he watched mother and baby. Katie had blossomed under her mother's care. He had been surprised by the depth of Annika's love for their child, and her industry at learning everything about the baby's care and performing her tasks with great enthusiasm.
"You are so good with Katie, Annika," he said, as he took his attention away from his sand painting.
"She is an uncomplicated infant," Annika replied. "She sleeps on cue, wakes on cue. I don't know what I would have done had she cried every hour of every day."
"Don't worry. I would have helped and we would have coped. We tend to adapt to the baby's needs and circumstances."
"Yes," she replied, distracted by Katie's antics.
He continued with his painting, a little surprised to see the face forming in the sand. Not Annika or their baby or even an eagle.
Kathryn Janeway.
She still invaded his thoughts at times, still managed to insinuate herself into his subconscious, still managed to disconcert him with her presence, still too exasperatingly near. He wondered if he would ever completely liberate himself from Kathryn. He valued their friendship to the point of obsession. There were things he could discuss with her that he couldn't with Annika, despite his wife's brilliance as a scientist. Annika still missed the human element in much of her thinking when it came to dealing with intangibles, with the abstract things such as emotion being the driving force behind many people's actions. She thrived on theory, but when faced with those emotions, she was still unable to define them in the way most humans could.
And Kathryn, the few times they had communicated via vid-com to discuss something, was just the same Kathryn, understanding instinctively what he meant or desired.
He loved Annika, adored her as the mother of their baby. It was Kathryn who still remained that being with an indefinable quality - a mysterious, alluring creature who kept him chained, forever hankering, drawn to her like to a siren. He couldn't explain it, couldn't rationalise the dichotomy of his emotions when he thought of Kathryn. He grimaced inwardly. A moment ago, in his mind, he had accused his own wife of not understanding warring emotions, and now he succumbed to that inability himself. Yet, he had to admit, he experienced that dichotomy only where Kathryn was concerned.
Sighing, he continued with his painting, trying to leave thoughts of Kathryn buried in the sand.
"You still think of her," he heard Annika's voice.
He closed his eyes at the hollowness of Annika's voice. She sounded...defeated. When he looked up he realised that she had already put baby Kathryn to bed and was standing a metre away from him. She looked like she had that day on Dorvan when she expressed her unhappiness that he could still love Kathryn Janeway. There was a slight droop to her mouth. Annika was unhappy again and he hated seeing her like that, hated himself that he made her like that.
"I cannot help it, Annika. We work together sometimes, at the Academy."
"That is not what I meant."
Annika moved away from him to stand near the couch. For a moment, he felt fear. She looked like she was ready to run, out of their home, away from him... He got up and joined her, touching her cheek gently. His eyes closed again and he cursed inwardly. A moment ago, thoughts of Kathryn Janeway brought him to a terrifying realization that he still loved her; now, touching Annika's cheek so gently brought about another feeling: he couldn't let Annika go. He loved her.
"Annika, I love you, you know that."
"Sometimes, I wonder."
He kissed her, the tremors going through his body as her lips grew soft and tempting. For the next few minutes, Kathryn Janeway was forgotten as he immersed himself in the joy of kissing Annika, a long, passionate kiss which sent his heart racing all over again. When he broke off the kiss at last, he was breathless.
"Admiral Janeway remains my friend even if we don't get in touch often. We work together, that's all. I love you, you understand?"
He felt his wife's sigh and his heart sank. Wasn't he convincing enough? Annika looked remarkably vulnerable, very, very sensitive and insecure. He desperately wanted to convince her that she had nothing to fear. But the night of the anniversary ball, he had been unable to tear himself from Kathryn Janeway and couldn't stop looking at her with a heart full of jealousy at the way she clung to Ethan Bellamy during their dance.
He had been baffled, refusing to believe that Kathryn Janeway could fall so quickly for another man. On New Earth, they had been open about their feelings and had declared their love for one another as often as they felt the impulse to do so. Kathryn had been sexy, alluring, a highly energetic lover, and the way his own body tingled for hours afterwards just thinking about what she could do to him, he thought he would never be free of her. He knew and had tasted every inch of Kathryn's body and then more. Together, they had been vociferous and greedy in their sexual intimacy.
He couldn't understand Kathryn, couldn't understand that she could switch off her emotions like she did after their enforced stay on the idyllic planet. Before that, she had been open, especially after the night of the storm when she had given up on trying to find a cure for them. He could read her, easily sense when she wanted him, wanted to make love, no matter where they were. Sometimes they didn't bother to dress, especially on hot, humid days and then they'd moved about, oblivious of decorum.
Once, he had seen her standing in their special pool at Breakfast Rock. It wasn't Kathryn standing there, running water over her body. It was a water nymph, one that called him, one that lured him into her lair. By the time he had reached her in the steamy water, his cock had been as hard as a rock and he had lifted Kathryn high into his arms, filling her to the hilt as he lowered her down on him. They had grunted and screamed their pleasure as they made love.
Did he make a sound now thinking of Kathryn and the way they had sex? Then he realised it was Annika who had given a little cry of distress. She was staring at the bulge that strained against his trousers. Chakotay realised with shock that he was aroused, rock hard. For a moment he wanted to die of shame, but shame fled as he looked at Annika. He wanted to drive the unhappy droop from her mouth, the misery from her eyes. He had to have her. She must have sensed Kathryn Janeway was still making him hard just thinking of her, and now he had to convince Annika that it was her voluptuous body he craved.
He did crave her, so badly that every nerve in his lower body became sensitised, strained, dying to find release.
He pulled Annika to him so that she could feel his readiness, rubbing himself hard against her. She gave a little moan of pleasure as her distress began to wane in the force of her growing desire and need for him. His hands cupped her buttocks and he kept her imprisoned, staring into her blue eyes, smiling slowly as her eyes grew hot and heavy with desire.
"Care for a stroll about the room?" he asked.
"You want me," Annika breathed, her eyes luminous. He knew he was lost, even as he fought for control. He knew he had Annika convinced of his lust, even if only for the moment. He liked control and Annika, still the ingénue in many ways where sexual dominance was concerned, enjoyed being submissive.
"Oh, yes..." he croaked as he tucked his hand into the neck of her dress and ripped it clean off her body. It didn't surprise him that she wasn't wearing a bra and panty, as if she had known they were going to have a very busy night after Katie was asleep and out of the way.
He pulled her down on the floor, quickly undid his pants and nudged her legs roughly apart. When he slid deep into her, he gave a hoarse cry of pleasure. Annika was hot and wet, ready for him. He rode her hard, and when he reached his climax, something exploded behind his eyelids. Chakotay bit his lips 'til they bled, because it was Kathryn's face he saw for an instant. He dismissed it quickly as he pulled Annika close and lay panting against her heavy bosom.
Later, when they lay on the bed, he stroked her stomach tenderly.
"Look at me, Annika," he commanded gruffly.
When she turned her face to him, her eyes were moist, her hand covering her pubis in a strangely demure manner. Gently, he removed her hand from her centre. He felt his heat springing in him again, caught up in their sex, their smell inciting him deep in his loins. Annika moaned delightfully, her parted lips utterly kissable as he leaned over to claim them. As his fingers found her clit, she gave a soft moan against his mouth. Then he began massaging the little hard nub. Annika's hips lifted, her legs spread wide again. He released her clit, mounted her again, bracing his hands at the sides of her head.
"I want only you," he murmured. The tip of his cock nudged at her opening and in one sharp, hard thrust, he filled her again, riding her like he had in the lounge, groaning loudly as he felt himself nearing the edge. He held back, waiting for her, thrust gently in and out, and then tucked his hand between them, touching her clit and teasing her to a frenzy. She cried out her pleasure, and when he moved his hand away he pounded into her until he spilled painfully into her. Her legs clamped hard around his waist as she gave in to the orgasm that rocked her body.
Then he collapsed, burying his face against her enormous breasts, the nipple closest to his mouth so inviting that he began sucking on it, finding to his surprise that Annika still had milk. It made him drunk with want and sex. His cock was still hard in her and he thrust lazily until he became soft and limp again, sliding out with his semen dripping from her vagina.
"God, Annika..."
"I love you, Chakotay. I will do anything for you. Anything..."
He was drunk with lust. He smiled. He knew where they were going. Annika would be the submissive for this night. Tomorrow night, it was her turn, but now, he could do anything to her in this state. She didn't want to lose him. She wanted to keep him for herself. And to do that...
"Anything?" he asked tauntingly.
"Hmmm..."
And so he flipped her swiftly on her stomach, his hand reaching for the lubricant he always kept ready on the bedside table.
"Anything, you say?"
"Anything…"
*******
Kathryn frowned when Mika Ayala announced that Chakotay was in his office and wished to speak with her.
"Fine. Send him in, Ayala," she commanded, sitting back in her chair as she waited for Chakotay to make his appearance.
Why would Chakotay be so formal? she wondered. She hadn't seen him at all the last two or three days but it didn't bother her much. She saw him from time to time as they passed one another in the corridors of the Academy. Then they'd exchange a few words. She always asked him about Annika, but especially baby Kathryn whom, she was told, had started taking her first steps and was saying "da-da". Chakotay was always painfully friendly, his dimpled smile lighting up his face when he talked. She could never detect in his eyes any sort of apprehension or concern about their friendship. He was, in fact, doing his best not the let the past encroach on the present.
When he visited her, he always headed straight for her office and only entered after a short sharp knock.
Sighing, she straightened up in her chair as Chakotay knocked and then entered, pausing a moment in the open doorway before striding towards her desk.
"Chakotay?"
"Kathryn, I - I need to talk with you."
"Is anything the matter?" she asked, rising to her feet, suddenly disconcerted at the look in his eyes. He looked unhappy, she thought absently.
"I don't know how I can pretend anymore. My feelings for you… I don't understand them myself. I think of you when I'm not supposed to. Then, when I'm with Annika, I love her. I really do. But I can't stop thinking - "
"You're leaving…" Kathryn said with sudden, painful insight.
"I have to, Kathryn, if I want my marriage to work without - without…forgive me…"
"But Chakotay, you have nothing to fear."
"It's not that easy, Kathryn. Annika senses that I'm distracted. Her unhappiness makes me unhappy. I'm committed to her and I want to see her happy."
"Just not here."
"We're leaving as soon as possible for Ketarcha Prime."
A Federation outpost...
"I suppose it's futile to try and convince you to stay, Chakotay. You've done wonderful work with your students. You got Icheb interested in - "
"I can't stay. And Kathryn, I'm not just leaving for Annika's sake…"
Chakotay let his words trail and Kathryn allowed the words to sink in; she felt shaken as she realised what he was telling her.
"Chakotay, I told you, you have nothing to worry about. Ethan and I are very close. I don't - "
"For my own sake. I love two women, Kathryn. It's eating into me. I know I don't have you anymore. You have Bellamy and you are…close. But I - for me, I want to do this as well. I need to put distance between us. That way, I can have peace of mind and I can concentrate on making Annika happy."
"I'm sorry that you're leaving. I'd like to keep in touch, though, if you don't mind."
"Annika is pregnant again," Chakotay said hollowly.
Kathryn closed her eyes a second, the hammer brought down on her heart mercilessly as it pounded her momentarily. Another baby. Their contract was sealed. When she looked at him again, she managed a smile.
"I'm happy for you, Chakotay."
"So I guess this is goodbye, Kathryn. I feel better knowing I can leave and you're not mad at me - "
"Why should I be? I'm…not…"
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him she didn't love him anymore. She had told him as much months ago and he had been sceptical. She moved to stand in front of him and placed her palms against his chest. Old Voyager memories assailed her - the countless times she had stood like that before him. A flash of a memory when he had held her so closely in his arms when briefly she had lain dead. He had been distraught as he desperately implored her not to die on him. Her heart felt heavy for a moment, full of the import that she was losing him as a friend too. He wanted to leave, to live on Ketarcha Prime, to dwell perhaps on memories of their times together. She couldn't help it if he still felt tied to her, for she had not given him any reason or occasion to repeat what had happened on Dorvan. She felt the rise and fall of his chest under her palms, tried to feel again the rush of emotion she used to feel whenever she stood so close to him.
Sighing, she rested her head against his hard chest.
"Goodbye, Chakotay."
"Goodbye, Kathryn," she heard him say softly.
It was at that moment her door opened.
"Admiral," Ayala started, and before he could continue, Ethan moved past him, freezing into stillness as Kathryn lifted her head to look at him.
It was a tableau, frozen in the acute silence that followed. Kathryn standing in Chakotay's arms, Ethan Bellamy, her constant companion, standing in the open doorway looking on. Ayala standing behind Ethan, poised exactly as if he were about to turn away from the door. And then Chakotay, whose body had stiffened the moment he sensed Ethan's presence, a soft sigh escaping him as he realised how compromising the situation appeared.
Ethan's face turned sharp, harsh, his eyes narrowing at the sight before him. She released Chakotay, moving towards Ethan, smiling as she reached with outstretched hand.
"Ethan! I wasn't expecting you - "
"I guess not," he rejoined stiffly. Then he turned on his heel and strode away.
Chakotay gave her a pained look.
"I'm sorry about that…"
"I'll deal with it. Goodbye, Chakotay."
****************
She found Ethan in the grounds of the office complex, where he stood quite close to a flower bed. Kathryn noticed absently how summer was slowly making way for the coming winter, and how the flowers would soon wilt only to rejuvenate again the following year. She thought how Ethan had gone through a process of radical physical transformation and how, if she hadn't found him, he would have died.
She thought how embarrassed he had been then, how he had never wanted anyone to see him stripped naked, to see him in the guise of everything he had reason to hate. She thought how he withdrew into himself whenever anyone came too close to him, how she alone, of all people on Earth, could penetrate his armour, although never completely. He would always keep some part of himself hidden, untouchable. She thought how, during the past three months, they had become lovers so close that she knew she was falling in love with him.
She loved him.
She knew now she would love him even if he never, as long as he lived, touched her again.
He only had to be. That was all.
The first person she had seen during that fateful time of her life when her world had been dark and how dying seemed the only release from her pain, was Ethan Bellamy. She thought how he had told her he couldn't let her die when she asked him to. She thought how he had been her anchor, her rock that never faltered, who challenged her and stimulated her, who found a way to those deepest recesses of her being where she once dreamed Chakotay would touch and hadn't.
Could she have loved Ethan then, even when she believed with a heart that bled unceasingly for Chakotay, that she could never let Chakotay go?
Could she have loved Ethan then?
The question jumped at her and turned her insides into a bubbling brook that she knew would never become still again because Ethan would always surprise her, would always find something in her to touch. Even as she realised he touched her in ways she'd always yearned for, there were still so many facets, so many, many little particles of her being that each prompted a separate little awakening which she knew now, with implicit conviction, only Ethan Bellamy could bring about.
It seemed subliminal, this feeling that stole upon her like a thief in the night. Or, like a dream in which Love glided with gossamer wings through the white mists towards her, nodding her head in gentle affirmation of the new Truth that descended upon Kathryn Janeway.
She didn't recognise it. It thrilled her and it filled her with astonishment, with an aching regret that she hadn't comprehended it sooner.
She wasn't even certain if that was what it was.
What she knew was that when Ethan hurt, or experienced joy, or enervation, or sadness, or melancholy, or dread, or compassion, even when he expressed something in a cynical fashion, she hurt with him. She knew that she would want to be there always, to share those feelings with him. Her frame of reference for this love was fractured at best.
When she had been young and in love with Justin she had loved him with the passion of her untrained and untapped emotions. Her subsequent depression had not only been because she lost Justin, but the way he and her father had died, her own helpless rage that she couldn't do anything to save them. She had lived with that guilt for years, had been afraid to invest in her emotions again, had even, with obsessive jealousy, guarded her heart.
She had been afraid of loss. Always loss. But Justin had receded and she had moved on. Mark had become the safe harbour, the sturdy rock where she could sit down and rest. He had not made
demands on her, not on her sensibilities nor on her emotions. She needed Mark, but had never felt that she used him. He had re-entered her life when her wounds needed healing and he had been the wonderful balm to her battered soul.
But in retrospect, she couldn't have loved Mark the way she had fallen in love with Chakotay. Chakotay destroyed every preconceived notion she had that she could control the way she loved. She had laid down boundaries after New Earth to save herself from total collapse, to protect herself, for she had a duty first to her crew. All else had to wait. She had not been prepared for the total loss of self to a man who understood her, yet not all of her. While Chakotay touched every physical need and scored her senses to wild ecstasy, she had always known that she was searching for something more. She had let him go, had made him leave her when he wanted to stay with her. It almost shattered her. She had pushed him away, more afraid of herself, and even more intensely aware that he was not her destiny.
She had pushed him away and in typical male human fashion he sought another and fell in love with her.
Kathryn had never had many dreams to build, but those few she did included Chakotay, included predictably a home, a porch, a cat and dog, a swing seat and more than one baby. She had thought of having children, she had once told Tom Paris, yet it remained an abstract, something humans said for want of expressing anything more intellectual or facing that demon inside called reality. Perhaps those things she craved were merely a metaphor for peace or stability of some kind. But the moment he committed himself to Annika, she wanted him again, against her better judgement, against all decorum.
Just as she had told Ethan. she had never thought that her love for Chakotay would die quietly.
"Let it die a natural death".
She had been right. But the swiftness with which it happened surprised her as much as it did Chakotay.
"Love, in a
subtle dream disguised,
hath both my
heart and me surprised..."
She remembered reading the poem by Ben Jonson from an old anthology her father had once given her. Then she had been mystified by its meaning, for she was seeing life through the eyes of the young, the eyes of her youth. Now she knew what the poet meant. Its import struck deep into her, her surprise too stupendous, too precious to proclaim it out loud to the world, even right now to Ethan, for now.
It was thrilling, it was new, it was stupendous. Ethan tore into her sensibilities and remained there. She thrived with him and he touched her in ways Chakotay never could. Ethan kept her wondering, kept her fuming, kept her constantly on her toes and she loved it. He was not just Henry F. Marchand, the famous writer, or the cellist who had given a recital at the Juilliard school under the direction of Herr Christoff Von Bulow. He was not just Ethan, the former Borg turned human, a construct that elicited from the viewer a dangerous, exciting, utterly alluring combination of attraction.
He was also Ethan the man who needed her, Ethan the man who made love with her and then held her close during the night, never wanting to lose contact with her body. He was Ethan the man who breathed her name in his sleep. He was Ethan the man who fixed her breakfast, then sat watching her while he sipped whisky on an empty stomach.
Kathryn clutched at her breast as if to hold her heart in her hands and cherish it forever, hold it there just a little longer before she could let Ethan see it.
Right now, Ethan's back was turned to her as he stood rigid, in an uncompromising stance that dared her to touch him. She had seen the expression on his face when he saw her standing in Chakotay's arm. His mouth had become tight, his eyes unsmiling.
Once again, Ethan had seen something which to him appeared compromising, and he had put his own construction on it. One day, she thought, she would tell him how she wanted to run right out of her office after him and pull him into her arms and kiss his pain away.
She wanted to do that now.
She tried to touch him, her hand reaching tentatively for his shoulder. She could feel the way he stiffened; it was in his bearing, the way he stood perfectly still, his hands by his sides. If her fingers made contact with his skin, even lightly, Kathryn knew that it was possible Ethan would scream in pain. So she dropped her hand, refusing to let the wretchedness take hold of her. He needed her solace, but more than that, he needed reassurance; she had to forget herself.
"It was not what it seemed," she said softly, wondering how she could convince an adult male, one in his mid-forties, that jealousy was beneath him. It was beneath him. Yet, she knew he was hurting fiercely. They had made a life together, one that was full, that included a new son, their dogs, their common bonds, their healthy passion. "Please…look at me, Ethan…"
Ethan turned slowly. Her heart ached for him. He appeared suddenly so uncertain, like one who wanted to be constantly reassured that he need never worry, that Chakotay was not a threat anymore. He was always so self-assured, together, unshakeable. Now he looked…human… She stood about a metre away from him, not daring to take a step closer or to touch him.
"Then tell me how I should understand. You're tied to me and - "
"I could tell you that you don't own me, Bellamy - "
Kathryn felt her cheeks flame at her unkind, uncalled for retort. There were times during their lovemaking that she lost herself in him, no longer the owner of her person, too dazed to fight her independence. Too enraptured to care.
"Then our lovemaking never happened."
"Ethan…please. I don't have to justify my friendship with Chakotay or explain how I stood in his arms to say goodbye to him."
"Sometimes, you're a tease. I should never have to call you that, for I don't think you deliberately play with my feelings. I have them, Janeway, just in case you didn't remember."
She sighed.
"Ethan, it's really not what you think."
"What do I think, Kathryn?" he asked, his voice hollow again, like the day in her bedroom when he had taken one look at her painting and told her he still saw her warrior there.
"You don’t have to be afraid, you know. I'm strong now, Ethan, much stronger than you think, perhaps stronger than I have ever been in my life. Chakotay shall always remain a friend. You must remember that. It's you I care about."
"Every time I see you with him, I can see how you can't let him go. My rationale tells me one thing while my damnable heart tells me something else. And you know how you'd rather listen to your heart than to your mind. It's easier, much less fuss than actually racking your brain looking for evidence that points to the opposite. What I see doesn't give me much hope, Kathryn. Your paintings still reflect him, did you know? There's a lot more light there now, but..." Ethan gave a tight little smile and shook his head. "It's what I see…"
"Chakotay came to say goodbye to me. He wanted to do so in person. I cannot begrudge him that, and you shouldn't either. They're leaving for Ketarcha Prime. The move is permanent."
"To save him or to save you?"
"Dammit, Ethan!"
"You looked…close. Perhaps like you were on Voyager. A team. A partnership. I was intruding. It was damned private and made anyone else feel shut out."
On impulse, Kathryn stepped forward and hugged him, sighing with relief when his arms enfolded her. She had been afraid to touch him. Afraid that he'd push her away. She pressed very close to him. Ethan was trembling, even in his fingertips that pressed against her back. Her forehead touched his chest. For a moment as she inhaled his cologne, she wanted to be back home on her Indiana farm, where she could lie in his arms in front of the giant fireplace and make love with him. Where he could tell her that he found peace, that peace no longer eluded him.
"I don't love Chakotay, Ethan. I used to love him with my whole heart. You know how much I did. For a long time, I thought I would never be free of those shackles. I'm free of them now. But Ethan, sweetheart, I can't undo a friendship, you know. He - "
"Still loves you, Kathryn. It's very clear."
"I know and I can't help it. That is something Chakotay has to contend with and relocating to a Federation outpost seems to be the way he wants to deal with it. You're right. He hasn't found closure and it's a shame. Annika loves him and he really does love Annika. She is pregnant again…"
"You won't leave?" Ethan asked as if he hadn't heard the new revelation.
Her eyes burned with unshed tears. Her lips trembled as she spoke.
"I am where I want to be. I am where I need to be. In your arms, in your life, Ethan. My heart is yours."
Ethan breathed a sigh of relief, the cynical look in his eyes gone, replaced by something that made the joy ripple through her.
"Shall I tie a lasso around the moon and bring the moon to you?" he asked as he pulled her even closer to him.
"No."
"I can't build you a temple?"
"Huh-uh."
"Ethan…"
"What?"
Kathryn looked around her and saw in her peripheral vision that they were being watched by onlookers. They were at Headquarters and she was an admiral who was standing in the arms of a man very hard to overlook. There were always people moving about.
"We're being observed."
"Does anybody care?"
"No…"
"Good. So you don't want anything? I can swim the deepest ocean and climb - "
"You could lose the clichés."
"They're not clichés, Janeway. When I'm with you, nothing is ever clichéd. It's a very fresh idea to build a temple. I should keep you locked in a tower, or better still, keep you chained to my bed - "
Sometimes, Ethan talked too much.
"Stop that!" she laughed, the joy bubbling through her at his change in mood. Chakotay and his Annika were forgotten.
"Why? Just so you can get in the last word?"
"No. But I have this sudden craving for a hot tub up in the mountains of Curry County which my partner, my companion, my love, my Significant Other sur - "
"Now who's being clichéd?"
Ethan laughed for the first time. His voice sounded happy, full of life and elation. Then suddenly, he became serious. The tiny specks in his eyes became bigger as his face drew closer to hers. When he kissed her, the burn from the touch left deep furrows of fire in her body. She moaned as the contact was prolonged. When he broke off the kiss eventually, his eyes smouldered.
"So," she breathed huskily, not caring who watched them, "is Ethan going to tell me why he made a surprise visit to Headquarters?"
"So…is Kathryn going to be happy if I told her that I had a sudden burning desire to be close to an insanely beautiful woman?"
"As long as that woman was me, of course."
"You missed me, honey?"
"Ethan," she began quietly, feeling her eyes fill with tears again, her heart full of love, so new yet so familiarly old. "I care very deeply about you. More and more as each day passes. Just - "
"Be patient?"
"Please?"
"I'm happy now, Kathryn. Happier than I've been in a very, very long time. You made that possible. We have a son. We have two dogs. We could even have more children. Right now, the world has righted itself on its axis. So, patience is not part of this contract, understood, Janeway?"
"Understood, Bellamy."
"Now, let's go…hot tubbing!"
****************
Cadet James Tiberius Rollins put down his PADD with a little click of frustration, hearing it clank as it made contact with the desk surface. Icheb had been lying staring at the ceiling for what seemed to him like hours, although it couldn't have been more than thirty minutes. That was when Icheb had last uttered a word to him and then had fallen silent while he, James, worked on the schematics for a tidy little shuttle that had been their brainchild since they started their senior year. It wasn't like Icheb to lose interest. In fact, his friend looked listless, melancholy, if a neo-natal former Borg child could harbour an emotion like melancholy. James dismissed that thought immediately. Icheb tended to brood these days and it was unusual, uncharacteristic. His friend had told him at the open day that Admiral Janeway had asked him whether he was catching up with humanity after all.
Perhaps Admiral Janeway had been right; it was a real pity that she and Commander Bellamy couldn't witness Icheb's descent into...melancholy. His friend was worried about something or someone. Whatever it was, Icheb was having a hard time figuring out his human responses to human failings and the miscellaneous little foibles humans exhibited. It was serious enough to make his friend uncommunicative. Normally, Icheb was friendly, even talkative in a Borg kind of way. He interacted well enough with the other senior cadets even though they still viewed him with slight awe and a little bit of resentment that he had walked into Academy life and promptly became one of its top students. Icheb was, James thought with sudden insight, a lot like his new father, Commander Bellamy. Perhaps that was at the heart of Icheb's dilemma.
Only two hours earlier, they had found a way of enhancing the long range sensors on their miniature shuttle, which they had dubbed the Poison Dart. James smiled to himself. The Poison Dart was barely bigger than an escape pod, with warp six capabilities. "Built for two," they had agreed and laughed about it when Icheb had spoken of taking a female cadet for a ride on its maiden voyage. Then after that, he had become quiet, withdrawn. He couldn't miss his parents since Admiral Janeway was around most of the time, teaching at the Academy and also working at Headquarters. Those times Commander Bellamy visited Headquarters to see Admiral Janeway, he always dropped by the Academy to see Icheb.
If he thought about it, Icheb had been moody for days, only no one would recognise it. The other cadets simply accepted it as his Borg aloofness. Icheb was nothing like that and since he had taken the last name of Janeway-Bellamy, had been quite agreeable.
Now, as he put the PADD down, James looked at his roommate.
"You look worried, Icheb. What's up?"
When he didn't reply James nudged him with his foot. Icheb responded with a silent stare.
"Nothing that is of any relevance."
"Nothing can be significant. Any philosopher will tell you that. There's something about nothing, and as I'm your best friend, I'd like to know what that something is."
"And as I said, it is not relevant."
"Come on, Icheb Janeway-Bellamy. You can talk to me."
Icheb sat up and swung his feet off the bed. James was struck by Icheb's gaze - pondering, like he wanted to ask a question. James sighed. Didn't Icheb realise that half the girls at the Academy wanted to be seen with him, only he pushed them away with his sobriety?
Yes, it was nothing and it was something.
"Icheb...?"
"Why do you call Lieutenant Gilmore 'Mom'?"
Icheb threw the question at him with sudden fierceness.
"Because she married my father."
"But she is not your real - "
"Icheb, is that's what's been bothering you?"
"Perhaps."
"Not 'perhaps'! It's been bugging you for some time. No wonder you were walking about for days with that gloomy expression on your face! Look, my real mother died when I was very young, long before my father left on that fateful mission into the Badlands. I was raised by my grandmother while he was away. But Grandma was old, you know. Okay, if you're seven going on twelve, anyone over fifty five is old."
Icheb sat up and swung his legs off the bed, facing him.
"Do you like Lieutenant Gilmore?" he asked in a direct manner.
"Are you kidding? I love her. She's the mother I never really had. She is kind, compassionate, very affectionate and caring, and she loves me too. I think I love her more because my father loves her to bits. Say, Icheb… What's the matter?"
"I love her, you know?" Icheb said stiffly.
"Admiral Janeway?"
"Yes. And Commander Bellamy. I could not have wished for better parents."
"But you're wondering if they love one another? Like my father loves my mom to pieces?"
"I have been pondering over whether I should call Admiral Janeway 'Mother' and Commander Bellamy 'Father'."
James wanted to laugh, but Icheb's serious expression stifled any impulsive outburst.
"Mom and Dad would probably be better," he suggested.
"But, do you not think - "
"Icheb, for crying out loud! Stop being a Borg and just think, will you? Or better still, don't think. Just say the thing that comes to mind when you address your mother."
"Will she be offended?"
"She's your mother, for heaven's sake."
"I wish..." Icheb's words ended on a long sigh and he looked away, out the window, staring at the sky.
"What do you wish?"
"They would marry."
"Oh, come on! You know they don't have to do that."
"But Commander Rollins married Lieutenant Gilmore."
"So they did. So what?"
"And Admiral and Doctor Paris… Tom and B'Elanna. Lieutenant Ayala and Carmen. Chakotay and Seven of Nine…"
"Has it occurred to you that your parents are maybe fine just the way they are? They have a hell of a lot more going for them than some of our cadets' married parents. Why - ?"
"Because then he would know he can never come between them."
"Who? Professor Chakotay?"
"Yes."
"Icheb, you know what? You are so human right now, it hurts!"
"So she will not mind?"
"No. Just go ahead and try it. And don't worry about Chakotay. He's safe where he is with his wife and baby on Ketarcha Prime."
"But I have a foreboding."
"And you're not going to tell me what it is, are you?"
"A terrible foreboding. Something is happening, or going to happen. I cannot put my finger on it."
"You just have a gut feeling? Icheb, the neonatal Borg drone, has a gut feeling?"
"A gut feeling, yes."
"Now I know you're human."
******************
Kathryn gave a contented sigh as she studied the PADD she had brought with her from the office. Opposite her, Ethan was playing, while the dogs lazed on the deck, hardly lifting their heads except when they heard a lark's musical sound in the air. Kathryn loved Fridays, not only because it was the entrance to the weekend when she could really relax, but also the realisation that on Voyager, they had hardly been aware that days had names anymore. Now it crowned her existence, where she could measure time by the way Earth's sun set and rose, the palette that was the firmament splashing its colours in carefree swatches of reds and russets and indigos and blues, so that one knew the exact single moment when the sun would make its bold appearance. And then to lean quietly, unannounced, towards the end of day where it rested again for one single moment on the horizon - striking so deep a red that it seemed impossible to hold that moment, hold on to it forever.
She had left early for Beaver's Lodge leaving Mike in charge of her office until it was time for him too to go home. There were times they both worked until 1900 hours, but today she couldn't wait to come home to Ethan.
"I'm worried about Icheb, Kathryn," Ethan said to her.
She put the PADD down and raised her head. Ethan's head was bent over the cello; Webber's Variations on a Theme by Paganini filled the air - playful in its mellow, satin tones, dark and light alternating as the bow stroked the strings with effortless ease. He had been rehearsing the previous day with Davina Etheridge, the pianist, and Abor, a Klingon violinist, for a recital of Beethoven piano trios. She had met Abor, and like most people, had been surprised that a Klingon had mastered a delicate instrument like the violin.
Ethan himself didn't look too perky; his face was pale, too pale to her mind. Kathryn had an image of how he'd looked just before he had transformed into a Borg. But that terror had passed. This was something different. It was possible he was coming down with something. Icheb and Ethan. The men in her life.
"Growing pains maybe? A girl?"
"No, nothing as obvious as that. Something…can't lay my finger on it."
"Your son is more like you than you realise, you know that?"
Ethan chuckled, missed a beat in the Caprice, swore under his breath then played on.
"He said 'Mom' first."
"Icheb's not a baby. But yes, it was a pleasant surprise. I wasn't expecting him to call me that, or call you 'Dad'."
"Hmmm. Works for me. Think how it would have looked. Icheb walking down the corridor alone, finding his mother walking in the opposite direction and then saying, 'Good morning, Admiral Janeway. I'll be late for dinner tonight because I have extra classes'. Sheese…"
"Well, I was happy just being Admiral Janeway to him."
"Now, Janeway, don't get modest. It blew you away and you know it."
Kathryn smiled, her eyes growing moist as she remembered the day, only a week ago, when Icheb arrived at Indiana where she and Ethan had stayed overnight. Icheb had knocked on their bedroom door, entering without waiting for them to respond, blowing in as if in a great hurry.
"Is it okay if I call you Mom and Dad?" he asked, breathless and oblivious of the fact that his parents were lying spooned together on the great bed. It was light already and they had had a late lie-in.
"Yes, now go away," Ethan had breathed sleepily against her.
But she had sat up and beckoned to Icheb to sit down on the bed next to her. She had spontaneously taken his hands in hers and felt ridiculously like bursting into tears. They hadn't given it much thought before, and Icheb had been painfully correct in referring to her as Admiral Janeway. Everyone called her that, especially Mike Ayala's boys, and Icheb had slipped naturally into that mode. But becoming parents had changed the rules and Icheb had new frames of reference. Some of which, she realised, he had gotten from James Rollins, who called Marla Gilmore 'Mom'.
"Icheb, I am very honoured. Mom, or Mother, or Aunt Kathryn…it doesn't matter - "
"Then I shall call you Mom. And Dad - "
"Icheb, yes, it's okay," Ethan muttered. "Now let me sleep, will you?"
"Can we do a hike up the Coniston Peaks, Dad?" Icheb persisted.
Ethan had finally sat up and stared blearily at Icheb.
"Icheb, son, here's a lesson for you. Exercise a little more decorum when you come barging into your parents' bedroom, okay?"
"I did knock…"
"You're not seven years old. Parents still get up to - "
"Yes, it's fine, Icheb. Your father will make arrangements this afternoon for a hike of the Peaks," she interjected quickly, smiling at the way Icheb had blushed furiously at Ethan's innuendo.
After Icheb had left the room, Ethan had hugged her tightly to him, not speaking for several minutes, feeling feverish in her arms. He had been dwelling in a realm that was private, a realm in which his sons were still alive and loving him unconditionally. She hadn't spoken and had stroked his hair, the tears she had held back earlier flowing freely down her cheeks.
Ethan had blossomed and taken it in his stride. He was, as he had told her, happier than he had been in years. Icheb had pierced Ethan's hard shell and made him feel again. It had been a big moment for all of them, and after that, Icheb had become more natural when he addressed them.
"Except, in the Academy corridors, I must call you Admiral, Admiral. I do not wish to be seen as Mommy's boy."
She had been shaken at this new dimension to their lives.
Now, Ethan's statement made her look back on the past week. Thinking about Icheb, she realised now that he, too, looked off kilter to her. She had thought that it was the pressure of work in the final year, his studies, the projects, which he and James were assigned as part of their course work. But Icheb had never been unnerved by pressure before, not at the Academy or on Voyager. It was definitely something else.
"He has a girlfriend we don't know of?" she asked Ethan, who changed from the Paganini Caprice to the adagio of a piano trio.
"No…nothing like that. Just a gut feeling I have. Could be something, could be nothing."
"I'll let him know we're expecting him for dinner. That he needs to take a break from dormitory life. Maybe he'll talk. I'll ask him."
"Then again, maybe it's nothing more than growing pains, which, if you were a young man, you'd talk about it only with your best buddy."
"Who happens to be James Rollins."
"Fine young man, too. Icheb may confide in him. Our son is worried about something."
Kathryn gave a sigh as Ethan continued playing. Something was in the air, she was sure. Since they had discussed Icheb, her being had become suddenly attuned to a different air around them, a mystery that would soon reveal itself. Even Ethan's music, as it slipped seamlessly into the Dvořák concerto, took on sombre tones - sad, sad music that pervaded her soul.
"Something's messing with my head, Kathryn," he muttered as he struck a false note. Then he gave a tiny cry of alarm as he dropped the bow and clutched his head for a second.
"Ethan!" Instinctively she rose to her feet to rush to him
"No, it's okay, I'll be fine. Just a twinge in the area of my neural transceiver. I'm getting a slight headache. It'll pass…"
"Let me get you something, Ethan. You don't look too well. I think Icheb isn't well either…" she whispered as the realisation hit her that Icheb and Ethan were connected and that they might show the same symptoms.
"Don't worry - "
"Doctor Paris gave you medication in case of severe headaches, Ethan. I'll - "
Right at that moment, the vid-com in Ethan's small office beeped.
"I'll get it, Kathryn," he said, scraping his chair as he rose to his feet. He looked steadier than moments before. "Probably my publisher…"
Kathryn didn't follow him inside immediately. Instead, she very carefully lifted the cello and carried it inside to its usual spot. Then she went back to collect the sheet music and the bow, placing them down on the chair Ethan kept in the corner of the lounge. She was about to enter his office when he came out. Ethan looked ashen, distraught.
"Ethan...? Something's wrong…" she said, reaching for his hands, a shiver going through her.
"Kathryn, we have to go."
"Go…where?"
Ethan's eyes turned dark and bleak.
"Something has happened to Icheb, Kathryn. He's at Starfleet Medical. That was James Rollins, his roommate who was hailing us."
"We must go right now…" she said, as she quickly gathered her PADDS and then followed Ethan to the back of the lodge where the small landing pad was situated.
Minutes later, they took off. Kathryn was at the conn. Ethan looked spaced out, pale, although she thought his headache might have receded. She hit her commbadge.
"Janeway to Doctor Paris."
Some slight static, then seconds later, Elizabeth Paris's voice was heard.
"Doctor Paris here, Kathryn. Your son has taken ill. As yet, I have no clear idea what's wrong with him. Cadet Rollins found him lying unconscious on the bathroom floor."
"Has he incurred an injury of any kind?"
"Nothing that I can determine. I have managed to stabilise him. Paris out."
The sudden silence in the runabout was deafening. It was only about thirty minutes to reach Starfleet Medical using the recommended slow impulse at low altitude, but the minutes seemed to drag by excruciatingly slowly. Ethan had been quiet during her exchange with Doctor Paris. Now he touched her hand, willing her to look at him.
"He's receiving signals of some kind. Distress signals…"
"What?"
"I don't know the origin, Kathryn. Whatever it is, it's bad enough to plunge our son into darkness. We have to go faster…"
"Doctor Paris has stabilised him. He's in good hands, Ethan."
"It's my duty to worry," he bit out.
She was worried herself. They had only the barest details of what had happened, and not knowing was agonizing. So many times on Voyager, this crewmember or that had been in sickbay, ill to the point of dying. Then she had taken a deep breath, made her way to the medical bay and held that crewman or officer's hand. Life on Voyager had become surreal, now a lifetime away where it had taken on a different aspect, too big and too fantastical to have happened. She had lost many crew for whom she held memorial services. She had seen Harry lying dead, had seen Chakotay lying in a comatose state, had saved B'Elanna's life, albeit against her will. Too many events which had been traumatic, tragic. She had been the captain then, charging in and willing her crew to survive.
Now Icheb, whom she loved, lay ill, and the thought that he might die terrified her. She wondered absently if the great thundering inside her that turned her hot and cold, was the terror parents experienced when their children were injured and suffered pain. She tried to hold on to her runaway thoughts, to pull herself with immense force away from terrible imaginings. She felt Ethan's hand gripping hers, feeling his strength come into her and calm her. Taking a deep breath, she concentrated on the controls of the shuttle.
Once they had touched down at Headquarters, near the medical facility, they both practically ran to the entrance of the hospital.
"I hope it's nothing very serious," Kathryn whispered worriedly as they made their way to the ward where Icheb lay.
When the door opened they saw Icheb lying with eyes closed, looking exhausted against the pillows, his face very pale. Was he still unconscious?
"Oh, Icheb…" she cried out before rushing forward to take his lifeless hand in hers.
Ethan moved to the other side of the bed and the moment Ethan touched Icheb, their son's eyes flew open and he looked directly at Ethan first, then shifted his gaze to Kathryn. There was a pregnant pause, one in which they waited with bated breath. Icheb's mouth moved, mime-like for a few seconds before he spoke, his voice heavy, urgent.
"I think Seven of Nine is in grave danger…"
**********
"We'll keep him here for a two day observation period, Commander Bellamy," Doctor Paris said as she snapped the tricorder closed. "He may suffer a relapse. What you have told me makes it necessary for me to monitor him."
"I understand. I have felt it too, though I'm sure the mystery will be solved as soon as Kathryn has made some enquiries."
"I am missing two days' classes, Doctor," Icheb complained. He was sitting up in bed, flexing his fingers nervously.
"Don't worry, Icheb. You'll catch up," Ethan said. "I've already contacted Cadet Rollins to bring something for you to work on. Meanwhile, just lie still and enjoy the rest."
"I cannot, Dad. I still feel the danger encroaching on me. I cannot shake it off."
"Icheb, I will be in contact with Professor Chakotay in the next hour," Kathryn placated. "I am sure he will give us the assurance that there is nothing to be so worried about."
Or that a great calamity has occurred.
"Please. I cannot rest. I feel something has happened."
Icheb stared at them and Kathryn thought he looked close to tears. Even Ethan still looked pale, although Doctor Paris had treated him for his headache. She wanted to believe it was Ethan's shock at seeing Icheb unconscious. Only when she contacted Chakotay would she know for sure whether anything had happened. It was a mystery that needed to be solved. Icheb was recovering, but they needed to know, to understand and prepare for any contingencies should both men become ill again. And in order to do that, they had to know if anything had happened to Seven of Nine. Icheb was convinced his collapse had to do with Seven.
"Icheb, we'll find out, okay? Whatever it is, we need to know so that we can prepare ourselves in case it happens again."
Kathryn felt Ethan's eyes on her. She knew he was uneasy that she had to contact Chakotay again.
"I'll stay with Icheb," Ethan's voice sounded up. "You go ahead and get in touch with Chakotay, Kathryn. It is vital that we understand what is causing Icheb's distress."
Ethan's voice sounded composed. She nodded to him, unable to drag her eyes away from Icheb.
"Well," said Doctor Paris. "There is nothing physically wrong with Icheb, but I'd like to keep an eye on him. I have another patient to see, so if you'll excuse me..."
The doctor patted Icheb on the shoulder, then she left the room.
"Icheb," Ethan began, "already you're looking better - "
"But you look pale too," Icheb cut in. "I don't want to lose you…"
"I'll be here, Icheb. You just get better. Your mother is going to see if she can hail Seven of Nine or Chakotay on subspace and find out if anything has happened."
"Thank you, Dad."
"You're welcome, son."
It was overwhelmingly touching to see the way Ethan placed his hand on Icheb's chest, the way Icheb's hand covered Ethan's. The moment was frozen in time. Kathryn shivered. They were so much father and son it was humbling. That was how it would have been had it been Rourke lying there. There was no difference in the quality of the affection. If anything, Ethan positively thrived in parenting Icheb, even though the young man was already grown up.
Icheb seemed to be out of trouble for the moment, but she thought it would be best if they used her apartment for the next few days to be on call.
The next moment they heard footsteps. All heads turned as Elizabeth Paris opened the door again.
"Kathryn, could you come to my office, please?"
Kathryn turned cold at the sound in Elizabeth Paris's voice. All Ethan's worries, Icheb's illness, her own barely subdued concerns boiled into one mass of anxiety. She turned quickly and gave Ethan's hand a tight squeeze. Taking a deep breath, she followed Doctor Paris out of the room.
*
"Perhaps Kathryn doesn't have to contact Chakotay after all..." Ethan mused in the moments after the door had closed behind her. With a sigh, he turned and sat down in the chair next to Icheb's bed. Better to wait for Kathryn to return before making arrangements to go to her apartment.
After she left, Icheb looked at his father with pensive eyes.
"What…?" Ethan asked, a little puzzled.
"Dad, if you and Mom are here and Lieutenant Ayala is at the office, and Mrs Ayala is at home with Diego and Peter…" There was a pause; Ethan frowned, then shook his head.
"Yes? And?" he asked.
"Did you leave the dogs without food and water at Beaver's Lodge?"
"Oh, hell!" he exclaimed, then rushed to the nearest vid-com to hail Ayala.
"Mike, this is urgent," he started without greeting Ayala, who looked as unruffled as always. "Admiral Janeway and I are here at Starfleet Medical. Icheb has taken ill. But please do us this favour, will you?"
Ayala smiled.
"What?" Ethan asked, frowning heavily.
"Already done so, Commander. The dogs are with Mark and Wanda Johnson, who have promised to take real good care of them. Your cousin assures me that she will see that her husband doesn't sell the dogs to all and sundry in the Federation…"
"Thanks, Mike. We owe you. We both forgot about the dogs; Admiral Janeway will surely have my head and accuse me of neglecting her precious babies. Then she'll tell me it's a wonder I didn't sell them off to the nearest trader."
"That's exactly what Mr Johnson said, Commander," Ayala responded with a laugh. Then his eyes became serious. "So…why is Icheb in hospital?" he asked.
"Something strange, Mike. He is convinced something has happened to Seven of Nine."
"That one? She's three months pregnant and strong as an ox."
"That doesn't mean she's exempt from pain and suffering like the rest of us," he retorted.
After Ethan closed communications, feeling relieved that Mark and Wanda had collected the dogs, he pondered over Ayala's words, remembering that Kathryn had told him Annika Hansen was pregnant.
It increased his concern a hundred-fold. He had hated men before, hated the Federation, hated Nechayev, but he could never wish ill fortune on Annika Hansen. Suddenly, when he moved his head, he felt a sharp twinge of pain at the base of his neck. He gave a cry and the next moment he sank to the floor, barely conscious, but still able to remain on his knees. He felt the rising nausea, battling the urge to retch right there in the empty office. Taking in large gulps of air, the nausea receded. He rose unsteadily to his feet and managed to sit in the chair again, leaning his head against the backrest.
Beads of perspiration formed on his forehead. His head throbbed. After several minutes he could move his head without feeling pain. Only then, when he could clear his mind, did one thing stand at the forefront, one thing that wouldn't leave. Icheb's foreboding came to him; it echoed like the sound of thunder, over and over...
"Seven of Nine is in grave danger…"
******
Kathryn remembered the words of her future self, an ageing admiral in Starfleet who had imparted her damning omens of a future she couldn't as yet see. Chakotay would marry, but it wasn't to be Kathryn Janeway who would warm his marriage bed. Chakotay would be happy for three years. Chakotay would be destroyed by his own grief at losing the woman he loved.
Had she, Kathryn, listened to her heart and reneged on her soul, she could have changed her own destiny the moment Admiral Kathryn Janeway was gone forever. But she chose not to believe. She chose to let her honour rule her judgment and walk away from him with the most precious thing salvaged from her relationship with Chakotay - their friendship.
She had had difficulty believing her future self then, had thought how totally absurd the admiral's words had been. She had wanted to laugh them off, dismiss them as figments, as the railing of a cheerless old woman whose life had traveled on a different path, one that had given her little happiness. She knew that she could count on her Chakotay as the steadfast man, her angry warrior, her perfect storyteller remaining by her side, even if only to warm her bed and not touch her soul. She had counted on his bond, his commitment to her cause of duty and command to tie him to her for all time. She had had vague imaginings that one day, when they were all home, she would parade him in front of her audiences, those adulating hosts who would fall over themselves to sing her praises, as the man who had never left her side.
Then Chakotay had come to her and told her about Annika Hansen: ex-Borg, formerly Seven of Nine, of Unimatrix 01. Annika Hansen, whom she had regarded as her daughter, a child in a woman's body, whom she had helped to guide to humanity.
Annika Hansen, whom Chakotay loved and taken as wife.
Destroyed by his decision, Kathryn had hated her own life, had thought she would never be able to lift her head and look at the world precisely the same way as she had before they entered their seventh year in the Delta Quadrant. She had thought that she would never be able to find her equilibrium again. She had known what it felt like to be without an anchor, without balance, without light in her realm. She had known what it was to dwell in Chaos and had fought, at first, when a concerned man tried to drag her from the pits of hell into which she had descended and where she had wanted to remain. For to search for the light, to reach for it with both hands also meant to face her greatest heartache, to face all her sorrow and live with that sorrow. She had believed with utter conviction that she would never experience Joy again. She hadn't wanted to emerge from the shadows.
For a while she had hated Chakotay even as she loved him with every fibre of her being. She had never been rendered so useless, so wholly uncertain of two opposing, warring emotions that had controlled her living and her breathing for so long. She hated Chakotay because he chose another and chose to love someone else, even as he proclaimed his love for her. She couldn't sleep without dreaming of him, of the two of them together on New Earth and their untrammelled existence. Those dreams turned into nightmares when Annika Hansen entered them and claimed her rightful place next to her husband, leaving Kathryn Janeway, one time captain, commanding officer and lover of Chakotay, out in the cold where she belonged.
Not even claiming friendship as the unifying bond between her and Chakotay was enough to break through the walls that they both erected: she, to protect herself, and Chakotay, to protect himself and ensure his wife's happiness.
It nearly killed her to see Chakotay and Annika happy, blissful in their marriage, basking in their love for their child. It nearly destroyed her. There had been nights she dreamed Annika had died, leaving her breathless with the knowledge that Chakotay was free again. Then, in those dreams, she had fantasised all manner of scenarios of their passionate reunion, exclaiming with heady bliss their love that had never died.
In the bright light of day, those dreams faded and left her facing reality. Chakotay was alive, quite within her orbit, but not hers to touch. Then, in the bright light of day, she realised how her emotions and her yearning to be touched by him as a free man had once again betrayed her. That had been during the early days when Ethan Bellamy was her mentor, her saviour but not yet the man who would become more to her than any other man.
Then, she had berated herself that she could wish Annika dead. How selfish had she been in her dreams and how guilty when light came and she faced the day? Had she been so selfish all this time to wish that Annika had never existed?
Now, as tears spilled unceremoniously from her eyes, Chakotay's face blurred. Her disbelief was too great, the portents of the last few hours so exact, so stunningly true that she gasped out loud after he had spoken. She remained open-mouthed as she stared at him for several heavy seconds in mute shock.
Chakotay's face creased with intense sorrow. He looked wild, terrifyingly distraught, ready to burst into tears. She had turned hot, then ice-cold, and even now, as she looked at her friend, the coldness remained, ice on top of ice. Then she spoke, finally, her voice barely audible above the noise in her head, the clamouring cymbals that refused to stop. Her eyes burned, her heart burned, her very being burned at the news.
"Chakotay, slowly this time. I want to make sure I heard you correctly."
"A-Annika," he stammered, his voice breaking, "is dead."
***************
END PART SEVENTEEN
PART EIGHTEEN: CAPRICE IN A MINOR