In the bleak midwinter
A novella
vanhunks
INTRODUCTION
Warning: Babyfic.
Warning: Angst.
Warning:
Happy ending.
1. Premise:
|
*What
if J and C spent a night together - you know all the reasons they might,
booze, drugs, alien possession, runaway hormones, yadda, yadda, yadda. It
obviously isn't going to ever happen again, if KJ has her way. |
The idea for this story came from a
"what if" scenario [read above] Amanda47 posted on the VAMB
board "Voyager's Muse" forum. Reading this instantly set my
mind working. I had just completed "The Badlanders" which, as some of
you know, was at the other end of the spectrum, very dark AU fic. I was still
dwelling about in the gloom of dark AU when this premise hit and the opportunity
to write a completely mushy story came along. I have tried to incorporate most
of what Mandy outlined in her premise though I've diverted from the premise as
well. It was the premise that got me into a spin the entire time writing this
story. I've been gloomy at times, at others just going great guns, then down in
the gloom again. Mostly it was trying to make the original premise stick that
has taken so long with this. I must say here that while I personally think
Kathryn Janeway would make every attempt to keep her baby, even Starfleet
captains succumb to depression, fear, extraordinary and irrational behaviour
which make them very human and as flawed as the next person. Within my own precepts of this premise I have tried to write
a believable story.
In the tradition of our great
tragic heroes of the past, this work explores the extraordinary consequences of
decision making, and one as controversial as aborting for the sake of
convenience.
2.
One VAMBie asked for "angst, angst, angst." I have always contended that there can be no good drama
without conflict. Because I had lately emerged from a very emotionally draining
story ["Badlanders"] it was clear that this new story – as mushy and
romantic as it was going to be, would have its share of angst as some of my
emotional investment of 'Badlanders" flowed into this new story.
3.
This story is unashamedly a babyfic. "Ties that Bind"
became the first of my babyfics where the baby was pivotal to the plot of the
story. Now, for the second time, "In the Bleak Midwinter" the baby is
pivotal to the plot, which drives the story. There are readers who don't like
babyfics, who don't read babyfics. Others enjoy babyfics and so this story,
started and written to coincide with our recent Mother's Day celebration, was
written for all those who like to read a babyfic now and then.
4.
I have played music while writing this fic and Mozart's "Laudate
Dominum" [again!] took precedence. Other pieces I listened to was a
beautiful guitar rendition by Trevor Nasser playing "From a distance".
My all time favourite: "Ave verum corpus" – Mozart.
DEDICATION:
For
At ten years old, after the death
of her parents to AIDS, cared for her two younger brothers, aged 5 and 3. NIKIWE
is now 16 years old, recently received her identity documents which have allowed
her to officially foster her two siblings. If we ask who have the credentials to
be a mother, then we need look no further than the thousands of sisters in
Southern Africa, some as young as seven or eight years old who care for their
siblings after their parents have died.
Disclaimer: Paramount
owns Voyager, Janeway, Chakotay. I have created one or two new characters for
this story. I write because I write.
Rating: PG-13
SUMMARY:
Kathryn makes a
decision that has extraordinary consequences for her.
Kathryn:"Please...she's my little baby, Chakotay. Show me some mercy. I have never touched her, never felt her fluttering, her movement, seen her heartbeat - "
Chakotay: "What kind of mother would give away her child? Tell me!"
In the bleak midwinter, frosty
wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,
In the bleak midwinter, long ago.
Christina Rosetti
PROLOGUE
This
late the hour the ship lay nestled in the quietness of its own sounds. The
sustained thrumming of its engines as she moved at low warp, the odd footfall as
crew moved almost stealthily along its corridors, the gentle, firm swish of
turbolift doors as they opened or closed testified to the air of tranquillity
that surrounded Voyager on her lonely quest for home.
It was the time Kathryn Janeway loved best after a hard day's work. Long shifts incurred only because this calamity or that emergency or some other order of business that couldn't wait another day required her complete attention. Then, so focused on her task that it excluded any opportunity of reprieve from the discipline, duty and responsibility she always jealously claimed as her own, her day would end only long, long hours after Alpha shift crew had gone off duty, planned their evenings, gone to bed.
Yet this hour didn't afford her the usual pleasure she always experienced as she walked the decks. Her feet carried her in the direction of the sick bay and often she glanced here and there, or behind her in order to remain unseen.
Her heartbeat had quickened, an excited, guilty flutter that was only relieved by her deep breathing as she stood at the sick bay doors. The doctor was offline - that she had already established in her quarters just before she left. Now again she glanced quickly left and right, then pressed the panel that allowed her access into the quiet infirmary of Voyager.
She was glad that Chakotay had long gone to bed. He had been in attendance for almost forty eight hours and had finally relented on pain of death from the EMH to rest, the infant was going nowhere.
Infant.
Her eyes stole immediately to the crib next to the biobed. From where she stood just inside the door of the sickbay, she could see the baby. Did she sleep? Did the tiny arms wave in the air as if it knew someone had entered?
A soft cry.
In an instant Ensign Hargreaves was awake and sitting up, leaning over to lift the baby from the crib.
Kathryn saw her tiny hands, the tiny feet, soft, downy rich brown hair that graced her head. Her mind was a whirl of conflict, of hearing voices from the past, of isolating those voices to hear that of her first officer, barely two weeks ago.
She heard Chakotay's voice again. He had called her to Ensign Hargreaves's quarters. His arms had been about the heavily pregnant woman's slender shoulders. Sarah Hargreaves was beaming, her eyes full of awe, pride, and the hand that covered Chakotay's was a gesture that didn't go unnoticed. Kathryn bit back a cry, then insulated herself with detachment, or more pointedly according to some crew, her self-styled disinterest. She had gone because Chakotay and Sarah desired to see her and she was there in her capacity as the commanding officer of Voyager.
That was all.
"We have decided that we'd like for you to name the baby, Captain," Chakotay said quietly, his eyes defiant on her. Defiant and challenging. She had seen that look often in the last months. There had been times she thought he hated her. So why did they call her? To inflict her more pain?
"I have no personal interest - "
"Captain," Sarah Hargreaves cut in quickly, almost shyly, "I would dearly love you to have this honour."
"Chakotay," she replied after a lengthy pause, her eyes away from Hargreaves, "I thought we agreed that I would have no further part in this."
"This is our first child - "
"Elizabeth…"
"Kathryn?"
But she hadn't waited for them to respond. She had turned on her heel and very quickly left the cabin.
Now, in the sickbay, Sarah Hargreaves lifted baby Elizabeth in her arms, holding the infant close for a few seconds before she moved her hand to her breast. The baby nuzzled instantly for the source of her food and in awed wonder Sarah let the baby suckle. And, Kathryn thought not without pain, Sarah made a great production of connecting with the baby. And why not? She and Chakotay were proud parents.
A giant hand compressed her heart so tightly that she wanted to cry out. But, like she had done two weeks ago in Sarah's quarters, she bit her lip, the soft inside where she tasted within seconds her own blood.
It was too late now to do anything.
Too late.
Sarah Hargreaves owned Elizabeth. Another soft cry was bitten back, the sudden onset of dizziness as she saw the baby nestling peacefully against her mother overwhelming. She strained desperately to focus.
"Don't you worry, Elizabeth," Sarah crooned softly. "You're my very own little girl. I always dreamed of a baby girl, you know? Now I have you… I do love your daddy with my whole heart. No one can take you away from me now, you hear me, sweetheart? No one…"
Kathryn stood rooted to the spot. It was clear Sarah hadn't noticed her entrance. She continued crooning to the child, stroking her hair, the baby's impossibly soft cheek that invited butterfly light kisses dropped against it.
"You're mine now, my angel. As soon as we get home, Daddy will take us far away where we'll live happily together…"
As if the baby understood, her mouth released the nipple, her tiny fists thumped the fullness of her mother's breast.
Only then Kathryn, her heart too full of what she witnessed, her whole being protesting against an injustice being played out, gave a soft, agonised cry of pain.
Sarah Hargreaves finally sensed her presence and looked up, meeting her gaze. For a moment Kathryn thought Sarah might lower her gaze, but the young woman looked defiantly at her. A few heavy seconds filled with dread, with wanting to rush forward and touch the baby, claim Elizabeth as her own…
"Why are you here, Captain Janeway?"
"I - "
The words tangled ignominiously somewhere between her brain and the divine passage to her vocal chords where they were still born, dying before they passed her lips. Somewhere a constriction that made expelling any kind of reaction, outrage, emotion impossible. Somewhere a tragic truth withheld. Somewhere, a woman whose insolent eyes and latent malevolence made her unattractive in the same moments the little tableau of mother and baby - Madonna and child - eternal symbol of motherhood was the most poignant and beautiful spectacle to behold.
As attractive as Sarah Hargreaves looked in the aftermath of birth made what emotion she wrung from her face and voice something just as comparatively ugly. Kathryn found herself rendered mute in the face of the onslaught couched in searing sweetness - a haven of deceit which was known to onlyy two persons. The young mother who had given birth and the woman who witnessed the defiant deceptive sweetness.
"Suddenly you have nothing to say?" Sarah jeered. "You have never been interested, Captain. You remained indifferent, apathetic. The crew hate you, you know. Please, leave now. Leave me alone with my baby."
Quietly, her heart throbbing a low song of pain, Kathryn turned and fled the sickbay.
*
END PROLOGUE