BOOK ONE: BEGINNINGS
CHAPTER SIX
She always enjoyed the late afternoon in the gardens of Starfleet Headquarters. Sculptured to resemble gentle undulating hills, the grassy knolls were lovers seats or discussion forums where great resolutions were born, or where philosophers dreamed of peace. All it needed, Kathryn thought, her mouth curving into a half smile, were the sheep of the green hills of Arcadia. At the bottom of the little rise where she was sitting on a bench, nestled a pond, and just beyond that a copse.
Sitting here always comforted her; if she experienced any turmoil, she'd come here most times and assimilate the serenity around her. She became restful, recharged and ready to go on her next mission. She gave a little sigh. The last time she had been home in Indiana - oh, how she longed sometimes for her home! - her mother had sensed that there was something different about her. Gretchen Janeway was wise, and nothing much about her daughters escaped her.
"Alright, Kathryn," she asked right out, "who is the man who put that restful look back in my daughter's eyes?"
"Whatever can you mean, Mom?" Kathryn had tried to hedge, but resistance with her mother, she learned, was futile.
"You've found a man, Katie," she said calmly, then touched her daughter's cheek. "Ever since the night of the Command Performance you've been different. Owen told me - "
"Admiral Paris, yes, he was there…" she had replied pensively. When blue-grey eyes met those of her mother's, she smiled and gave a resigned sigh.
"His name is Chakotay. Commander Chakotay of the USS Ormskirk…"
"It seems I can't hide, Mom." Kathryn had replied. After a short pause, she said: "Okay, Mom. I like him. We communicate - "
"Kathryn…"
"Mom?"
"You don't just like Chakotay… It's more than that, is it? Infinitely more…"
She had given her mother an almost stricken look, then walked quietly out of the house to sit on the porch in her favourite swing seat. There she had remained and her mother hadn't bothered her again. Gretchen respected that, Kathryn knew. But Gretchen Janeway had been right. Kathryn didn't just like Chakotay. She loved him.
When she left a few days later, Gretchen Janeway had been emphatic.
"When he's back in Federation space, be sure to bring him home, will you, Kathryn?"
She had given her mother a beatific smile and without speaking again, had boarded her shuttle and left.
It was her latest briefing with Admiral Paris that brought her here to the gardens, kept beautiful by old Boothby. Captain Buccholtz had left immediately for Mars where his family was stationed. But she had been a little unsettled by Owen Paris's briefing, and so had Captain Buccholtz been. The constant threat of Cardassian attacks were on the increase on homeworlds that lay defenceless in their path. The Federation could do only so much, and before the next year was out, something had to be done to secure another truce. She had been filled with disquiet, and their mission six months ago to Bajor had left a somewhat sour taste in the mouth. If the Federation couldn't effect a truce with the Cardassian Union… She shivered. So many homeworlds could be attacked, as it had already happened. She had heard tales of horror, harrowing stories by young, old, men and women of Bajor, prison camps, labour camps…. Their resources depleted, the Cardassians were expanding their empire, old treaties and accords flagrantly disregarded in their hunger to expand and crush the defenceless with force, in their belief that only violence and extreme aggression could bring cohesion and subjugation.
Dorvan V lay in their path. Chakotay's people lived there. An odd fear gripped her. What would happen to them?
Kathryn shook her head, tried to relieve herself of the feeling of disquiet, concentrated on the green
manicured lawns, the rose bushes, the beautiful copses that appeared natural but were not. Birds flew over the large pond, one of many dotted around the gardens of Starfleet Headquarters. A little family of ducks floated around on the water of the pond just at the end of the rise she was sitting. Soon, the peace settled in her again, the beauty surrounding her bringing in her once more a sense of calm.
She thought of Chakotay.
Ever since Kathryn had made the move to contact Chakotay four months ago when she had been crazy with yearning for him; she had not had a moment in which she didn't think of him and in which she didn't count her blessings for a thousandth time. She couldn't imagine her life without him now, even though she had not touched him since the night of the command performance.
How long ago was that? An eternity? A stranger who knocked on her door and who was now as familiar to her as her mother or her sister? Kathryn had opened up to Chakotay things she had not talked with her mother, or Phoebe or Mark, or Dalene Petranoff. What was it with her? She loved Chakotay with her very breath, and that fact, that little bit of knowledge was to her so unbelievable that it bordered on the fairytale, of magic and magicians and fairies who waved their wands or blew fairy dust over them.
But the reality lay before her: Chakotay loved her as deeply as she loved him. It was inevitable, an inexorable fact that had to come to fruition some time. It happened one night when a stranger stood in front of her. By the end of that evening he had kissed her, and left an unforgettable mark on them both. They would both remember that touch for months to come. Until she made the move to share with him something of her feelings, she had not known that joy could be lasting, or that happiness could be an eternal flame that burned brightly inside her.
She had not forgotten Justin. Justin was her first real love, her first halting essay into womanhood and intimacies she had never before shared with anyone. She had come to Justin untouched; she cared about her body as a precious part of who she was, not to be given lightly to anyone, or to he shared half-heartedly. When she had given herself to Justin it had been with her whole heart, her body and her soul. He awakened the woman in her, tantalised her dormant sexuality and sensuality into coming alive under his touches. She thrived with Justin, had grown to respect him and trust him with everything she was capable of trusting him with. In that she could not deny her late fiancé. He had loved her with equal passion, had shared all of who he was with her as a person, an individual, and made himself as vulnerable to her as she made herself to him.
For a long time she had been unable to cope with Justin's passing. If she had loved him less, God help her, or if she didn't have any feelings of guilt at not being able to help him, she would have been able to come to terms with his death sooner, the way she had seen some men and women mourn their partners only until after the memorial service before getting on with their lives. But she had loved Justin; he had been the reason for her existence. In no way could she argue, looking back on their relationship, that it wasn't so. She could never, no matter how long she lived in this life, or existed in another, deny Justin that, and deny what she had with him.
But Justin died. She had been the petrified witness to his dying moments - her father, a man she loved and respected above all else, who had become a part of her life late, and Justin Tighe. Helpless, paralysed into immobility, she had seen them die. Like an old man on his deathbed who knew that he would meet his Creator in a very short time and reached that way with both hands grasping towards the next life, Justin Tighe and Edward Janeway had looked at her. And, just like the old man whose death could no more be delayed than she could prevent the sun from rising and setting every day, her father and her fiancé exited this life before her very eyes. Her grief had been nameless; later there had been no more tears, just a desolate awaiting for Death to lay his claims on her too.
Did they know then? Were they silently imploring her not to try anymore because it was no longer necessary? Did they grasp towards that afterlife with both hands reaching for some invisible light? For months she had agonised over their last moments, seen their eyes beseeching her. But she had been paralysed by her injury and fear, unable to help prevent the shuttle from sinking into the icy waters of the polar ice-cap of Tau Ceti Prime. Then the rage set in. She had been demented, wanting to save them. She couldn't, and for a very long time she struggled with herself, fought, clawed tenaciously at the one thing that kept her from hurtling backwards into the abyss of her own grief and depression: With her father she had made peace before he died. She had her father back and the short while that he had been available in her life when he had never been before they had shared a richness, eradicated all her feelings of failure she had felt on the day of the accident.
With Justin she had experienced a full life, had been his lover, his friend, his fiancée, his confidant. He had been all those things to her. It finally dawned on her, but not before Phoebe had so rudely awakened her to the reality and truth, that she had had everything with Justin. If she never experienced that again in her life until the day she died, she could tell herself - and it didn't need any sort of self-convincing alluding to it being a half truth - that she had a full life with a man who had been the world to her. She had come to accept that, and while she had entertained friendships and the occasional date in the ten years since Justin's death, it was enough for her. She had not been intimate with any man since Justin, and Mark… Mark was just the kind friend she needed in her life.
So why was Chakotay so different? Why was loving him so different? Why had it been difficult in the beginning to open herself to him? She had been afraid, she admitted readily. Afraid to trust herself again and to make herself vulnerable again to another man. Yet she did, and with it came a new kind of freedom. The freedom to love again wholeheartedly, with the ever present spectre of being hurt always lurking in the background. She was willing to take that risk again, because Chakotay, bless him, was willing to take that risk with her.
He was everything. He maddened her sometimes; they had great arguments, and they had also great intimate moments. There was an element of mystery about him, of hidden strength and aggression. He oozed protection, the desire to remain close to her. She loved him deeply, maybe differently than she did Justin, but just as deeply. Even knowing him these six months, she knew intuitively that there was about her relationship with Chakotay infinite motifs to their tapestry, so much texture and colour she knew she'd spend the rest of her life exploring each one and relish the taste and feel if it. She had hardly known him well, but she knew that what she felt was a torrent that refused to slow down. He brought out the wanton woman in her. He made her giggle helplessly one moment and the next, she could undress and stand naked for him to feast his eyes on her body. If with Justin there had been a certain reticence in letting herself go and be whatever she wanted to be with him - feral cat, wanton hussy, angelic deceptive kitten, clawing tigress, anything - Chakotay let her be all those things without her feeling trapped or embarrassed. Embarrassment died with Chakotay and with him she experienced such a liberation that it was hard to believe that they had not touched each other in six months. She smiled inwardly as she remembered the faint bruises on her skin after their lovemaking last week. She had been guided by him, lured by his voice to touch herself, let her hands roam wherever he commanded her to. As if he had been there with her, she had felt his hands on her, felt him move in her…
There was about Chakotay so much of the man and manliness and complete courtesy on the one hand and on the other, a smouldering passion that needed only a suggestion, a purring voice to set him off. Yet, he allowed her to play with him, tease him with ruthless abandon until he too writhed helplessly as passion drove them to the brink.
*******
She awoke from her deep reverie when a shadow fell across her, blocking the sun. The seat creaked as the man sat down. Kathryn smiled when she looked into Mark's face. His hand went to her shoulder in a relaxed gesture.
"Kath, it's not like you to sit alone in the gardens of Starfleet Headquarters," he said conversationally.
Kathryn patted his thigh. "There's a first time for everything - "
"And nothing new under the sun…"
"Yes, that too. What brings you here, Mark Johnson? I thought you were on your way to the Kolnari Convention."
"I was just wondering why I haven't heard from my friend since her return two weeks ago. Has she gone into hiding, do you think, Kathryn?"
"Mark! Am I supposed to give you an account of my movements?"
He grinned sheepishly, but soon his face took on a tense look. He released his hand from her shoulder, leaned forward so that his elbows were braced on his knees and his laced his fingers, rolling his thumbs in maddening monotony.
"You know, Kathryn…" He turned his face to look at her. "You were not aware that I had been standing here, watching you. You looked so deep in thought that it would have been an intrusion to have disturbed you. I have disturbed you…" He gave her a wistful smile. "I'm sorry."
Kathryn leaned forward and touched his hand, stopped the thumbs from rolling again.
"Don't be, Mark. Don't ever be. You're my friend and I need you in my life - "
"Not anymore, Kathryn," he said. There was a sadness in his eyes, a passing of something he didn't want to mourn. He gave a little sigh. "I saw the way your face became animated. You were thinking of him, weren't you?" He turned to study his hands again, then gazed pensively over the wide lawns and the pond at the edge of it.
"Yes. Yes…" she replied.
She was unable to keep the softness from her eyes, the lines of strain that had been there most of the time when she left on missions, no longer there. He turned to look at her again and noted the bloom about her face, how she became flushed at the mention of Chakotay. Her eyes were alive, yet a mystery lurked in their depths, an awareness that she was cherished. He had never seen Kathryn like this. Another man put that look there. Another man had given his Kathryn a new destination, a remarkable journey she was undertaking with great zeal, suddenly dauntless of all pitfalls. Something, a giant hand with long fingers maybe, curled around his heart and squeezed it until he felt like crying out. He had wanted to be that man. He had dreamed of putting that look there. If truth be told, he had been naïve, thinking that what Kathryn had with him was enough to secure a comfortable framework for a relationship. But a few minutes ago, to see that look in her eyes, the way her whole face lit up - he hadn't been aware that there could be a difference, a difference so palpable that he knew in an instant that he had lost her.
Half a lifetime of knowing Kathryn Janeway had bred a familiarity that had made her comfortable with him, made her reach for him in times of need, in times when she desired just camaraderie, a good companion with whom she could discuss science, politics, culture, philosophy…one with whom she could lie in bed and cuddle up, just having a good conversation. How had he thought in the last ten years that it would be enough for Kathryn Janeway? In the last five years when they had become closer than ever before, he had thought that he'd wait for her to initiate any intimacies she desired. He had kissed her, yes, on numerous occasions; there had been times when they had been close to making love and he entertained wild thoughts of elation that she had finally acquiesced to become his lover. He had been a patient man, too patient maybe.
"Maybe I should have taken you to the concert after all." His voice was tinged with profound regret.
"Maybe it was the very best present my very best friend could have given me," she replied, her hand squeezing his gently. She willed him to meet her gaze again. "You will always be a part of my life, Mark... Mark?"
He sighed deeply again. It was unbearable to witness her happiness. He knew Kathryn hadn't seen Chakotay since the night of the command performance, but that they communicated regularly. He had never met Commander Chakotay, but he hadn't been sitting still. Just from the photograph alone, the man oozed sex appeal, but Mark knew with hindsight that Kathryn would need more than that, and the evidence before him testified to that fact alone: she would lose her heart to Chakotay, whatever his faults and foibles, his strengths and weaknesses. Still, as Kathryn's friend - the endorsement of that designation was hard to swallow, but he laid claim that he could be that for her when she fell, and the thought somehow comforted him - he felt he had to warn her.
"Be careful, Kathryn," he said to her, his eyes dark with concern. He knew he was foolish to want to warn her; she was old enough to look after herself. But he had seen her hurt, he had seen her plunged into the depths of despair because she loved and lost. He had seen her love Justin; what he saw now in Kathryn Janeway, was something sublime, so deep, yet so fragile that he knew he would not want to see her heart broken. This time, there would be no abyss. There would be nothing.
"I can look - "
"I knew you'd say that, Kathryn. But, Kath, bear with me, will you, please?"
Kathryn nodded. She shivered and he sat back, putting his arm around her shoulder again. On an impulse, she rested her head against his chest and Mark found pressing his lips to her hair irresistible; for the first time since had stood watching her when she had been so deep in thought, it was a gesture of solace, of comfort. When he spoke, his voice was soft. In these moments he was her friend, her brother who was giving her advice, albeit against her better judgment. He loved her with a burning deep inside him, but he knew, as he had accepted in the last half hour, that it would remain a flame that burned low, always giving light. Kathryn would never know that twice she had chosen another above him; she would never know that all he would ever be for her - friend, brother, confidant, even mentor, he would do with his heart and soul. He knew implicitly that whatever the journey was she was about to undertake, somewhere along that route, she would pause and look to him. And he would reach out to her and give her the comfort she would seek from him. He had a role in her life, for all time, and he felt honoured.
"I think you are going to be hurt, Kathryn," he started. She looked up at him, her eyes clear, a frown marring her attractive face. He sighed, but needed to continue even though his heart felt heavy. "I can see you love Chakotay - " He smiled when she buried her face in his chest. "But, Kath, you'll be hurt and I don't want to see you hurt again. I've seen you like that before and we - your mother and Phoebe and I and other friends stood a little helpless because we couldn't alleviate your pain. You walked around for a long time with the scars..."
Kathryn moved and sat a little away from him. He couldn't help it. He felt strange, like a portent had blown across the lawns of the gardens and the skies that had been blue earlier had suddenly clouded over. High up he could see a bird that hung like a falcon, suspended timelessly against the firmament, before it soared away again.
"Mark, I appreciate that you are concerned. I know that there is always an element of risk in a relationship that wants to go deeper than just - just friendship. Chakotay - " She paused, looked over the lawns and the pond, a faraway look in her eyes, he thought. "Chakotay is a remarkable man, Mark. I know I can tell you, because you're my friend, that yes...I love him. I - " She stopped, looked at him again. "I didn't plan this, you know - "
Only then Mark smiled.
"No, Kath, when you think about it, I planned it."
Kathryn gave a relieved laugh.
"I believe I'm stronger this time, Mark. Chakotay is very protective, you know, even when I don't want him to be - "
"Er...excuse me, Kath, you haven't seen Chakotay in six months, only communicated via subspace and - "
"You'd be amazed who much you can learn through weekly comm - "
"Oh, you communicated on a weekly basis?"
"Mark, you're devious!"
"But, seriously, how much did you learn?" He gave her a naughty wink and Kathryn blushed. "Ah, I...see..." He didn't have to say anything more to what he could imagine Kathryn and Chakotay could indulge in via subspace communication.
"He's good for me, Mark," Kathryn reiterated. "I'll be meeting him here the day after tomorrow. He'll be based here, you know," she added. "Chakotay's taken a posting to lecture in Advanced Tactical Training. He's done that before..." Kathryn frowned. "That probably accounts why we never crossed paths before, yet we were at the Academy at about the same time. He started very early - "
"I know, Kath," Mark replied, then he wanted to bite his tongue.
"You've been checking? That's unlike you, Mark Johnson."
"I'm only human, Kathryn. I wanted to know the man who put the stars back in Kathryn Janeway's eyes."
She leaned her head against his chest again, her arms clutching at his waist. She gave a sigh that sounded to him like one of contentment. For a moment she gave him a hard squeeze, her fingers digging into him.
"I love him, Mark."
"I know, Kathryn. I know..." he sighed.
****
Admiral Paris shook his head as he looked at Adam Ponsonby, his closest friend and colleague. They had been in conference since Owen arrived at his office, and it was now past 10h00. Ponsonby sat back in the chair, idly rubbing his temples and Owen didn't feel much better than his friend looked.
"We need to send the best man in the field, Owen," Admiral Ponsonby said. He pinched the bridge of his nose.
Owen Paris shook his head. "The best man in the field has just accepted a commission to be based at the Academy for six months. I doubt whether he'll leave on a year long mission to the Cardassian borders. At the moment, the situation is manageable, Adam."
"That may be so, but the threat lingers. We have Nechayev on it. But sometime soon, the keg will blow up. If we can know their activities in advance - "
"I would suggest we wait, Adam. I'm certain Nechayev is thinking along those lines too. The Crimond's mission had been successful up to a point. But you know what we've been told, Adam. The Cardassians are not likely to give up that easily. Deep Space Nine may have been secured as a collaborative venture between the Federation and Bajor, with a wormhole as an important link. But you've read the reports from Andreas Buccholtz and Kathryn Janeway. The hostilities are simmering still. The threat may not be there anymore, but they're extending their range to other sectors. It's pervasive. When there's a truce secured again - "
"We have to rely on the Ambassadors and other role players to do that, Owen. Meanwhile, defenceless homeworlds are under attack..."
Owen Paris sighed. It would have been a good thing to send a man in now, but they had to wait. They didn't want a direct call to arms with Cardassia at this moment. The reports of their atrocities had been restricted so far to the Bajoran homeworld, but they were gradually expanding. There was growing unrest and unease amongst those worlds that felt the Federation could offer them protection - planets that were outside Federation space.
"Commander Chakotay would have been the perfect man for the job, Owen."
"I know. He's our man. He's also romantically involved, Adam. My guess is that that is in part why he's been commissioned for his new post." When Adam frowned, Owen enlightened him. "Gretchen's daughter."
"Kathryn?"
"Certainly not Phoebe." Owen looked at his friend. Tall and thin, Adam Ponsonby was still a bachelor, at the ripe old age of seventy. But at the mention of Gretchen Janeway's name, Adam's face had become little flushed. Owen knew that Adam was attracted to the widow. Gretchen, however, didn't like Adam Ponsonby much.
"Kathryn... I daresay...I've not seen them together though - "
"He escorted her to the Command Performance six months ago."
"So they're an item. I daresay," responded Ponsonby in his pedantic manner. "An item…"
"In a manner of speaking. I understand they've been communicating regularly while he was in the Gamma Quadrant." Owen paused, looked pointedly at his friend. "Do I detect some wheels turning in your head, Adam Ponsonby?"
Ponsonby smiled. "Owen, look, the Ormskirk will dock the day after tomorrow. Perhaps we can speak with Commander Chakotay in accepting the new commission - "
Owen Paris nodded soberly. He rubbed his temples and gave a sigh.
"Fine. It's worth a try, Adam. I foresee serious portents of danger for the Federation..."
****
END CHAPTER SIX