Title: New Resolutions
Author: DianeB
Summary: Set after the VOY episode "Hunters," Mark's "Dear John" letter prompts Janeway to ponder why she found it so difficult to commit to him – and later, to Chakotay.
A/N: Written in 1998 and revised a little bit in March, 2005. Originally published in 1999 in the Orion Press fanzine, "Wayfarers." An NC-17 scene has been deleted from this version. If you want it, please e-mail me.
Kathryn Janeway sat alone beneath her window in the middle of ship's night, gazing vacantly at the black space beyond it. In her lap rested the padd, the one that held the letter from Mark. More specifically, the "Dear John" letter from Mark. She had lost count of how many times she had read it.
What had she been expecting? Voyager had disappeared from the Alpha Quadrant without a trace over four years ago, and then suddenly a window was thrown open and communication was possible. Even though family and friends now knew they were alive, it was bound to be a major shock, and certainly many of them had moved on with their lives, including Mark. She could only be thankful he had been straightforward with her. Of all the things Mark could have said, she was glad he had simply told her the truth. But then, he always had.
"Kathryn! Hey, Kathryn! You up there?"
She was standing on her tiptoes on a chair, rummaging around in the upper regions of her hall closet. "I'm looking for the. . .where did we put the blanket after our last picnic in the canyon?"
"My darling, didn't you say you were gonna put it in the cedar chest?"
She stopped her rummaging and snapped her fingers. "Right."
"Yes, I am. Now hurry. Molly's already in the hovercar, and I'm about ready to fetch the basket and join her."
Janeway clambered down off the chair, crossed the room to the chest beneath the bay window, and raised the lid. The spicy scent of cedar pleasantly assaulted her as she reached in to pull out the colorful Navajo blanket they used exclusively for picnicking.
Blanket draped over one arm, she exited her apartment to join her dog and her lover.
The summer afternoon was perfect, warm and sunny, and they were alone in their favorite spot, stretched out on the blanket, the dog flopped on her side in the dirt beside them, her belly already thickening with the puppies only Molly herself was sure were there. The picnic lunch had been eaten and they were now simply lying quietly side-by-side on their backs, soaking up the sun's rays.
"Kathryn, when are you going to marry me?"
She rolled onto her side to face him and raised herself up on one elbow. "Oh, you're good, Mister. Wait until I'm in a sun-induced stupor after a delicious meal to spring a vital question on me. Very good indeed."
"C'mon, Kathryn, give me a break here. I love you, and you've had the ring for three months now. Whaddaya say?"
She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his. "What I always say."
"One of these days, Kathy, I'm not going to take nothing for an answer." He brushed her lips this time.
"Don't call me Kathy." She reclaimed his mouth in earnest, parting her lips and deepening the kiss. She felt the vibrations of his satisfied sigh tickle the back of her throat and matched it with her own. She felt Mark wrap his arms around her slim frame and roll her onto her back, pushing her turquoise t-shirt off one shoulder a placing a kiss on the tanned skin, huffing a breath of warm air against it in an act of intimacy that always produced a response.
She moaned at the feel of his breath on her shoulder. She had no idea why this evoked such a vivid response in her, but it did, every time. "Uhhh. . ."
He dared a little more, reaching for the button at the top of her white walking shorts, but she would not allow him, not out in the open like this, and certainly not without a fair bit of "intellectual foreplay."
Even her dog would not allow it. The Irish setter raised her head and barked sharply once. Kathryn pushed his hand away, smiling up at him. "Nice try, buster, but you know I won't—"
"Of course I know, Kathryn, but you can't blame a guy for trying." She snorted softly and he continued, cocking his head toward the dog. "Besides, somehow you've trained Molly to be your lookout in case your passion tried to carry you off to a place you wouldn't normally go."
Molly, having heard her name, was now dancing and woofing around the blanket, intent on, well, the dog had no idea, but the effect was plenty for the two people on the blanket. Mark rolled off Kathryn and helped her to her feet. While he started cleaning up, Kathryn played with her dog, trying to work off some of her energy before they got back in the hovercar. When Molly jumped at Kathryn, she grabbed the dog's front paws, placed them on her shoulders in a well-practiced move, and ran her hands down the dog's silky sides.
"So you think this girl is pregnant?" Molly dropped to all fours and went tearing out of sight around a huge boulder. "When did the vet say he'd call back with the test results?"
"Tomorrow. I'll call you."
"You'd better."
Janeway had been watching for her dog to return, so when Mark came up behind her and did the shoulder thing again, she was caught completely off guard and her knees buckled. Mark, on the other hand, was quite on guard, supporting her easily while at the same time slipping one hand straight down the front of her shorts, no thought to buttons, zippers, or any other sort of hindrance. His fingertips had just passed her navel when she caught her breath and stopped him. He brought his hand up to her waist, and turned her to face him.
She recognized the look on his face, a combination of innocent and pitiful that never failed to produce gravelly laughter from her, which she knew he adored. God, she had a hard time resisting this man. She brought herself fully against him, parted her legs around his thigh, and kissed him with fervor, laughter dying in her throat. Immediately, one of Mark's hands went traveling around the front of her upper torso, the other somewhere up under her shorts at the back of her thigh.
They might have engaged in the act standing right there, if it weren't for that thing inside Kathryn Janeway that simply forbade this sort of activity in public, no matter who started it or how aroused she might be. She broke the kiss and felt him immediately remove his hand from her leg.
"Mark. . ."
But Mark was long used to this. "Hey, hey, don't say it. I'm just a fool for you – mixed signals and all. I can't help myself. I want to touch you all the time and I'll take advantage of every opportunity." He paused and allowed frustration to creep into his voice. "I want you to be my wife. I'm tired of being engaged. I want to be married. Don't you?"
She didn't care for his tactics, and she knew he knew it, but she couldn't deny that she'd been avoiding the issue ever since he'd first presented her with the ring. "Yes, Mark, yes, I do. But now is not the time." She stared into his face, seeing once more his disappointment in her inability to take this next step. For reasons she would never fully understand, she added impulsively, "Listen, after I get back from this mission, I. . .I. . ."
"You'll. . .?" He prompted gently.
She let out a breath she hadn't know she'd been holding. "I promise, when I get back, we can set a date."
His face opened with joy. "Woo-hoo!" Molly had been lying quietly by the hovercar, quite out of doggie character, but his outburst set her to barking furiously. Mark, about as wound as the dog, encouraged her.
With a delighted flourish, Mark gathered up the basket and the blanket, leaving no trace that they had ever been there. As they were getting into the hovercar, Kathryn whispered seductively that she would return later to his apartment for one last night together before she took off for the Badlands.
Captain Janeway had no idea she was crying until she felt hot tears falling onto the hand in her lap. Dammit. She wiped at her eyes. She had no desire to sit in the middle of the night, losing sleep and crying over things she could not change. Leaning forward, she put the padd on the low table, rubbed her temples and wondered if maybe Torres could work the with Doc to create a counseling subroutine for him. She was smart enough to realize she would probably benefit from a session or two.
At the moment, what she really wanted was to go back to bed and sleep for a week, but instead of getting up to return to her bedroom, she leaned back against the couch and closed her eyes, intent only on taking another minute to gather herself. Instead, she found herself reflecting on something else entirely: that bittersweet first time with Chakotay on New Earth.
She raised her hand off the table and he weaved his fingers into hers, returning her wistful smile. What next? Chakotay seemed to know, as he rose from the table, hand still clasped in hers, and came around to stand behind her. What he did next nearly brought her out of her seat.
Releasing her hand, he opened the top of the nightgown and slid one corner of it off her shoulder. He bent and kissed her bare skin, a chaste and gentle endeavor, raising his lips and puffing a hot breath against her. Oh my God, how could he have possibly known
Of course, she thought rationally, he hadn't known; he had only done the most natural and least intrusive thing he could think of. Her reaction, however, was potent, instinctive, and impossible for her to suppress. She closed her eyes and moaned softly, leaning back against him, her body instantly humming with arousal.
"Chakotay. . ." She brought her arm up and rested it bonelessly against his chest, her fingertips lightly brushing his chin. She moaned again, husky and low, and felt him stir behind her. Somewhere deep inside her, an alarm was ringing, but it was much too faint in the face of her body's siren.
"Kathryn?" He took her hand in his, crouched down beside her, and brought her hand to his lips, kissing each finger in turn, from her thumb to her pinkie and back again. She opened her eyes to look at him and saw in his face the very same thing she had felt earlier in his hands when he was massaging her neck: passion, smoky and forbidden, but there. His eyes held her, and he mouthed her name again. She reached up and ran her finger along the lines of the tattoo above his eyebrow. He brought her hand to his lips again, so gently, and this time kissed the center of her palm, touching the very tip of his tongue against it.
This feeling sparked an intensely erotic response within her, more so than the should kiss, and it frightened her into a sense of place so abruptly that she yanked her hand away and tried to stand up.
Chakotay moved back immediately to give her room to get to her feet, and she could see how puzzled he was. Not that she could blame him. "Kathryn," he asked, his voice full of question, "what's wrong?"
"Nothing, Chakotay, nothing." Liar. I'm not sure we should be doing this." She folded her arms protectively across her chest.
He cocked his head and gave her his little trademark grin, dimples exposed. "Doing what?"
She could feel herself falling back into captain mode. "Don't get smart with me, Mister, you know what I mean."
"Kathryn, we're going to be on this planet a long, long time. I would hate to think a gorgeous woman like you would have to go without sex for the rest of her natural life." His grin ever wavered.
She knew he was teasing her in order to lighten the mood, and she knew she should respond in kind, but the Starfleet captain in her kept coming up with reason after reason why she should not engage in this activity with her first officer, no matter what their current circumstances.
However, while she was thinking of her reasons, Chakotay had approached her, unfolded her arms, and placed his hands on her waist, drawing him to her. He reached behind her head and released the clip that fettered part of her strawberry-blonde hair, putting both hands into it as it fell loose. He then cupped her face with his hands and leaned in to kiss her.
Her brain, while still involved in reasons why not, began to lag behind her body, which was actively churning up plenty of reasons why. Surrender was not as difficult as she had thought. Her mouth softened against his and she leaned into him, as his hands settled at her lower back. Chakotay's kiss was sweet and undemanding, nothing like Mark's. . .
She ripped herself away from him and backed away, gasping, hands out in front of her in a gesture of defense. "No, no, Mark. . ." She choked and was suddenly crying. She turned her back on him and walked to the far side of the room, leaning against the wall, blinking to keep the tears at bay.
Once more, Chakotay's voice was full of question. "Kathryn?" She could hear him behind her, making confused noises. She should not have said Mark's name, but she had been unable to stop it, just as she had been unable to stop the flood of conflicting emotions that pounded her. For one brief moment in Chakotay's arms, she had forgotten about Mark and the chattel that went with him. Like a ring. And a marriage proposal
"Kathryn." Chakotay repeated her name as a statement, clearly reflecting his resignation to the present situation. She knew the ball was in her court.
She signed inwardly, saddened at the realization that she had messed this up quite royally, not only because of some displaced sense of loyalty to a man she would never see again and was unable to commit to, anyway, but for other reasons she knew Chakotay was unaware of.
She wondered if he could forgive her, for she certainly understood her own body's reaction to his touch and recognized that she wanted him – perhaps, she admitted, even more than he wanted her. It was only a matter of turning around. But her head would not permit her, remaining stubbornly unconvinced of her sincerity. In spite of a growing desire settling somewhere below her navel, she continued to face away from him, jackhammering her way through the brick walls in her mind.
Today's plasma storms had effectively destroyed any hope she maintained of finding a cure for the virus. It was clear there was no chance they were getting off New Earth. She had already done her duty as captain and ordered Tuvok to move on, toward the Alpha Quadrant, toward home. Her beautiful ship and its extraordinary crew were gone.
There was no one left but her and Chakotay, and on this quiet evening, this precious man had only done what he thought she wanted: responded to her, to the sexual overtures she had made, trying to create for the two of them and sense of family and of home. Yes, there was Mark (and the ring she kept with her but did not wear), but she would not be seeing Mark again. Chakotay was here, and he was waiting for her with a degree of patience she knew Mark would never have. She had an idea Chakotay would wait forever for her. And forever they certainly had.
The dust suddenly cleared in her head, her brain finally convinced that she meant to follow through on her feelings.
Without a word, she turned and walked back to him, straight into his arms, pressing herself firmly against him, touching him at every possible point (and a few almost-impossible ones), making sure he would not mistake her intent.
Chakotay made no such mistake.
He embraced her and they kissed, mouths falling open, tongues entwined, bodies swaying to the eternal rhythm of first-time enchantment.
After a moment, Kathryn felt Chakotay's grip shift around her, and panic replaced passion as she realized he was about to do something Mark could never do because of his back: lift her into his arms. She stiffened reflexively and Chakotay grinned into her rounded gray eyes, clearly pleased with himself.
"Relax, Kathryn. This won't hurt a bit. I promise."
In spite of her best effort not to, she tightened her hold on his neck and gasped at the sensation of her feet leaving the floor. She had not been carried in this manner ever and for a second she was literally unable to relax as Chakotay had suggested, instead feeling as though she should sharply order him to put her down – or worse, expect him to know she wanted down, as Mark would have, if Mark could have picked her up the in the first place. . .
Her thoughts were as scattered as the tree limbs after the afternoon's storm, and it took her a moment to come back to herself. When she did, she realized Chakotay was just standing there, holding her, waiting. His sweet expression indicated he was content to stand there for as long as it took.
So, to further compound her embarrassment, she blushed, feeling the heat rise from her chest straight up into her scalp, knowing she was crimson.
Chakotay's black eyes danced. His wide smile indicated he was tickled by this schoolgirl display even more that he had been at her reaction to being carried.
She, on the other hand, just wanted a glass of ice water.
Unfortunately, Chakotay chose that second to shift into a more serious mood, and she was only just able to swallow the laughter that had followed on the heels of her thought about water.
"Kathryn, you are so beautiful." His voice had dropped to something below a whisper. She could barely hear him. "Please, let me make love with you."
She couldn't help herself, she laughed anyway, and knew he thought she was laughing at his request. She backpedaled to try to rescue the mood, but the smile continued to play around her mouth and she feared she had wrecked the mood for good.
"No, Chakotay, no," she said, patting his chest, "I had been thinking I wanted a glass of water to cool my blush and then you went deadly on me. My fault." But she ruined her fine apology by laughing again, and the only thing Chakotay could think of to stop her was to kiss her, which he did.
And which worked.
Chakotay walked her to the narrow bed behind the partition.
In the moments that came after, Kathryn rested in Chakotay's arms, wondering if he had fallen asleep. His breathing was deep and even, but she knew him well enough now to know that that "deep, even" stuff could be deceiving. She smiled to herself and pressed closer to him, taking in a lungful of his familiar, earthy scent.
As she settled deeper into her contentment, an old memory surfaced, needle-sharp and evil, leaving her breathless, with tears glistening in her eyelashes. Chakotay must have felt her movement, because he drew back to look at her, his face registering alarm at the sight of her tears.
"Kathryn? Oh my God, Kathryn, what's wrong?" She knew he was afraid he had hurt her, but she could not respond lucidly, instead dissolving into tears, burying herself in him, crying into his chest. Chakotay did not push her for an explanation, but instead wrapped his big arms around her and held her, rocked her, murmuring words she could not understand between placing feather-light kisses along her hairline.
After a few minutes, she was able to control her crying and pulled back to look at him, knowing her eyes were red-rimmed and shining. She smiled in sad recognition of the way she must have looked. He returned her smile with a tiny grin of hope, picking up a corner of the sheet and offering it to her as a tissue.
She accepted the sheet and dabbed at her eyes, swiped her nose. "Chakotay," she began thickly, in an attempt to explain. "I'm so sorry. It's not your fault. I didn't mean to scare you." She saw relief on his face immediately, but he didn't tarry there, instead keeping his attention fully focused on her. She continued, determined to get it said.
"It's just that sometimes, sometimes. . ." She could not complete her thought, and it frustrated her. She tried again. "Mark used to tell me I was being. . .well. . .I. . ." and trailed off again.
How could she ever explain, to her first officer who was now her lover, about a great hurt from long ago, a hurt she could not seem to overcome, feelings of hopelessness that produced tears during moments of pleasure, as if in mocking reminder that she did not deserve such happiness? She had been through this so many times with Mark, and still he had not understood, preferring instead to try to distract her or, as he had on one horrible night, to leave their bed in frustration.
It was clear Chakotay was trying to give her time to make herself understood, but he finally couldn't take her distress any longer, and brought his finger to her lips. "Hush, Kathryn. It's okay. Don't try to explain tonight. Believe me," he chucked softly, "I'm not going anywhere."
Suddenly exhausted, she was glad she would not have to talk anymore. He adjusted his frame next to her, and she fell immediately into dreamless sleep.
A few days after that first intimate night, she finally shared the tragedy that had caused her to weep in his arms. The story she told was brief and shattering:
Back when she was still an ensign, she, her father, and her finance', Lieutenant Justin Tighe, were testing a prototype ship in the Tau Ceti system when the unthinkable happened. She had been thrown clear of the ship, but her father and Justin had died, trapped in the cockpit as the ship sank into the half-frozen lake it had crashed into.
This fact had haunted her for many years, until she was finally able to unlock the door to the memory of how she had tried without success to save them, and had nearly died herself on the frozen planet until rescue arrived. But even with the knowledge that she had tried, the experience left her psyche deeply scarred, a scar with teeth that bit her every now and again, always at times when she least expected or wanted it.
Chakotay listened intently. When she finished, the look on his face indicated he simply accepted it as part of what made her who she was, as surely as if it were carved on stone in front of him. She suspected he had gleaned some of this story from her personnel records, but she knew those records only went so far.
In exchange for her story, he shared with her the corner of his heart where he kept the memories of everything they had ever done together, not only the recent activity as lovers, but also as captain and first officer – every moment, starting with the relinquishing of his phaser when he'd first come aboard her starship.
Though Kathryn certainly knew Chakotay loved her, she had had no idea the volume nor the depth of his devotion, and it made her love for him feel insignificant by comparison. When she told him this, he merely grinned and tilted his head in his usual manner, taking her hand and kissing each finger, as he had done before, saying, "Says you."
Her gravelly laughter filled the small shelter.
As the days passed, he went on with his plans for the boat, made further improvements to the shelter, helped her turn the earth for a garden, and continued to do everything in his power to forge a home and a life for the two of them on the planet, including love her. On the occasions when she wept, he only held her, never attempted to divert or otherwise stop her, and never, ever, left her. In time they both noticed the tears did not come as often.
When they were cured of the virus and returned to Voyager, she knew Chakotay would not abandon the memories of their time together or forget any of what she had told him, but simply consign it to that special corner of his heart. She wished fiercely that she could do the same, but by the time she returned to the bridge, in full command again, she had simply constructed new brick walls around the events that had occurred on New Earth, topped with the flag of Mark's proposal, effectively sealing it all neatly away. She was immensely relieved when Chakotay followed her lead without argument, never once speaking aloud of New Earth.
Though the entire crew, aside from perhaps Tuvok and Vorik, buzzed for weeks with gossip about what might have happened between them on the planet, she resolutely ignored it, and eventually it went away. She had been returned to her beloved ship, her life's blood, and though she wanted to inject Chakotay's love into her veins as well, she knew the risk was too great. They were captain and first officer once more, and she resolved to have it remain that way.
The demanding beep of her door roused her from a very uncomfortable position on the couch beneath the window. She had finally fallen asleep, but it was no kind of sleep that could be construed as restful. "Come." She picked her head up and rubbed at her neck, grimacing at the stiffness, not quite awake.
Chakotay strode into the room and stopped abruptly. She glanced up in time to see a number of emotions skate across his features before he settled himself into First Officer Mode. "Captain," he asked formally, standing at attention, "is everything all right? We were expecting you on the bridge."
She started. The bridge? "The bridge? Chakotay, what time is it?" Fully awake, she began to rise off the couch, aware now of how she must look to him and why he had reacted as he had. But he stopped her by breaking his stand and going down on one knee in front of her. He glanced at the table, where the still-activated padd lay, and brought his ebony eyes to hers, resting a hand on her knee.
"Kathryn," he whispered, "what have you been doing all night?"
The corners of her mouth lifted at his concern and she patted his hand, determined to get up and get on with the day. "Chasing ghosts, Chakotay, chasing ghosts."
She sincerely wished to leave it at that, but his eyes would not release her, and she felt her firm resolve begin to slip dangerously under his gentle, penetrating gaze. A faint jackhammering started up in the back of her mind. In the month since their return, he had never once tried to push her on the subject of their personal relationship, and he really wasn't pushing now, but she realized things had changed with Mark's letter. The jackhammering continued.
"I can take your bridge duty, Kathryn," Chakotay said softly, offering the only thing he could by way of relief that she might accept.
Her resolve returned with a vengeance and the jackhammering stopped. "No, Chakotay, just let me get dressed." He rose out of her way as she stood, straightened her nightgown, and began walking towards the bathroom. "I'll be on the bridge in a quarter-hour. Thank you."
And that, as they say, was that. She heard his footsteps moving toward the door.
For reasons she was never able to understand, Kathryn Janeway arrived at a significant life crossroads about halfway across the room. She stopped and stood there, her back to him as it had been on that quiet night so very long ago. She saw him out of the corner of her eye. He had also stopped, but he had turned toward her. She tensed for a moment, then relaxed and turned to him, arms hanging limp at her sides. "Chakotay?"
"Yes?" He replied cautiously.
"My ghosts included. . .New Earth."
And the jackhammering was back.
His face revealed that he had already suspected this, but that he was struggling to keep himself from doing anything more than acknowledge it. "I thought they might." She saw him fall utterly still.
The jackhammering grew louder,the flag that was both Mark's proposal and his subsequent letter becoming the first casualty in the major deconstruction project going on inside her head. She was amazed Chakotay could not hear it, and then realized he was waiting for her to say something more.
"We haven't talked about it." She knew it was not something he could easily respond to, but he responded anyway, as if he couldn't bear to be done with the conversation, such as it was. She knew the same thing he did: it was the first time since they had returned that she had even said the planet's name aloud, let alone anything else.
"More defining of parameters?" His voice had taken on a hard edge, but this did not alarm her, only reminded her that he was protecting that fragile corner of his heart. She couldn't blame him, since it was she who had forced him to do it. But she knew something now that he did not yet know. Allowing her expression to soften, she was not surprised to see a ripple in Chakotay's stillness.
She walked back to him and when she reached him, ran her finger along the lines of the tattoo above his eyebrow, encircling his waist with her other arm, drawing him close. These were intimate gestures she had not made since they left New Earth, and she knew by the way he molded himself to her that he was no longer in fear for his heart.
When the dust cleared this time, there was nothing but bright memories and brighter hopes for the future. No walls, no flags, no. . .
"No parameters, Chakotay. No more parameters."
End.