Work Text:
She couldn’t sleep. It was so quiet in space. She’d forgotten about that. She’d gotten used to the sounds of chirping insects, the rustling of leaves in the wind. Here, back in her quarters, there was nothing but a very faint electrical hum. Nothing but her, in a bed that felt too large and too empty.
No. She was not going down that road. That was over.
That was over.
Easier said than done, unfortunately.
It’s only your first day back, she told herself. First night in your old bed. First night without—
She sat up, throwing her legs over the edge of the bed and leaning forward, elbows on her knees. She was never going to get to sleep like this. She got up, ordered tea from her replicator, then abandoned it on the table as she paced around the room, feeling like a caged animal, wishing she could go outside. Feel the cool breeze on her skin. Take a bath.
She closed her eyes. She could take a bath; there was nothing stopping her. Except the memory of two nights ago. Would a bath alone be any better than bed alone? She sighed.
Fine. Admit it. You miss him.
He was right next door in his quarters. Was he pacing the floor, too?
It was too typical. Of course, the moment she’d let herself relax, the moment she’d truly given up on ever leaving, the moment she’d started to believe in a real future, a good future on that idyllic world with a man who loved her, that was when the crew had figured out the cure and come back for them. If only they had come just a few days earlier, she’d be fine. Oh, she’d still have trouble sleeping in the quiet of space, for a while, but she’d get used to it again as she had many times before. But she wouldn’t have this other feeling, the one she didn’t know what to do with.
It had to go away, eventually. Right? People got over things like this. In a few days, things would get back to normal.
She sat back down on the edge of her bed. You never missed Mark like this, she told herself guiltily. Remember him?
She didn’t feel anything when she thought about Mark, and the fact that she'd probably never see him again. She should feel something. They’d been engaged to be married. She’d loved him, hadn’t she?
Had she?
She’d never felt anything with him that compared to—
For God’s sake, Kathryn. Stop it.
She stood up again. Hadn’t she made tea? She sat down at the table and attempted to drink it, but even that didn’t seem quite right. The last cup of tea she’d drunk had been made for her by Chakotay.
She put her head down on the table with a groan. She was getting nowhere. She wondered if she should ask the Doctor for something to help her sleep. She wondered if she’d be able to make it all the way to Sickbay to ask, or if she’d only make it as far as Chakotay’s door.
And what would he do if she did show up at his door? Turn her away gently, she supposed. Remind her why it had to be this way.
Or maybe not. Maybe he’d snatch her around the waist and pull her through the doorway and make love to her right there on the floor because he couldn’t wait long enough even to drag her to bed.
Probably not that.
There had been no discussion of continuing their relationship when they returned to the ship. Neither of them had considered it as a serious possibility; or at least she hadn’t, and since Chakotay had not said anything to the contrary, she assumed he was just as sure. It wasn’t possible — she was his commanding officer, his captain. There were rules, and while some rules were flexible, this wasn’t one of them.
She didn’t like it. She didn’t have to like it. But she did have to abide by it. What had happened between them down on the planet had been good. It would have been a good life, but it was over now and that’s just the way things were. She’d get over it. They both would. Soon enough, everything would be back to normal.
****
“What is going on with you and the captain?” said B’Elanna.
His heart sank. Oh no. “Nothing.”
“Nothing? Ever since you two came back from that planet, it’s like you hardly even look at each— Oh my God.”
“B’Elanna,” he said in a warning tone.
She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Did you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, “and if I hear that anyone in the crew is speculating about—”
“Right, right, understood. But just between us, as friends… did you?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Oh my God, you did.”
“B’Elanna. That’s enough.”
“I mean it makes sense. All alone on a secluded planet…”
“Lieutenant,” he snapped. “Drop it.”
“Fine,” she said, sounding annoyed. “Sorry, Commander. But you'd better start acting more normal if you don’t want people talking. It’s obvious that something happened.” She turned back to her work.
“Is it really?” he asked, glancing around to be sure there was no one else in earshot. “Obvious?”
“Kind of. I mean you’ve always, I don’t know. Gotten along so well. And now it’s like you can’t stand to be in the same room with each other.”
“Maybe we got sick of each other,” he said. “Twelve weeks with only one other person to talk to, wouldn’t you want to get away from them?”
“Maybe,” said B’Elanna. “But that’s… not what it seems like.”
“Well, it is now,” he said. “Seriously, B’Elanna. It can’t get around. Not even the… the suggestion.”
“I don’t control all the rumors on this ship, you know.”
“Are you saying there are rumors?”
“This is really bothering you, isn’t it? This is serious.”
“Can we just get back to work?”
“I’m almost done. Just need to swap out this plasma coil. I have replaced so many of these things in the last two days… Damn Vidiians.”
“We did tell you not to get involved with them. Ordered you not to, in fact.”
“Yeah, and aren’t you glad we didn’t listen? Or maybe you’d rather still be down there.”
What if he would? Who wouldn’t pick a quiet life with the person they loved most, a life of good food and hard work and having sex in the middle of the day just because they could over this endless journey through space, getting into one deadly situation after the next with no promise of ever getting anywhere?
The captain, that’s who. The captain would always choose her ship, and her mission. That’s why she was the captain. He’d only ever been a consolation prize for her. At least that was what he was telling himself now, because it was less painful, somehow, than believing that she was as unhappy as he was, that her heart was aching like his, that she’d spent last night pacing her quarters, unable to sleep, like he had.
“Hey,” said B’Elanna. “You got lost there for a second. You have real feelings for her, don’t you? Does she know?”
“I’m not going to discuss this any further,” he said.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Look, people are going to talk. It’s human nature. The best thing you can do is just ignore it. Denials will make everyone think it’s true. And I promise I’ll try to shut it down if I hear anything.”
“Thanks.”
“And look, if you do… need somebody to talk to, or… whatever.”
“Right. I’ve got to get back to the bridge.”
****
“Ah! Captain, Captain! There you are!” Neelix scurried up to her as she entered the mess hall. “Oh, I have the most wonderful surprise for you! I think you’re going to love it! Come with me, come with me!” He grabbed her by the arm and started leading her away. “And here’s Commander Chakotay, perfect, perfect!”
“Mr. Neelix,” she began, but, as he usually did, he ignored her and continued on as if she hadn’t spoken at all.
“Now, you just wait right here, oh, I’m so excited! You remember those marvelous fruit you brought aboard? What did you call them? Peppery peaches?”
A sense of dread started building in her and she and Chakotay exchanged a brief glance.
“Well,” Neelix went on, “I’ve made a delightful dessert with them. A cobbler, I think it’s called. I got the idea from Ensign Myers, now she’s from a place called South Carolina, I don’t know where that is of course, an Earth place I believe, but she told me — oh just sit right down and I’ll bring it out!”
“Mr. Neelix, I’m really—” He ran off. “Not looking for dessert,” she finished, to no one.
Chakotay raised his eyebrows in a what can you do type of expression she’d seen many times before, and she sighed and sat down. It wouldn’t do for her to walk away now.
“I still think it was a silly name,” he said, with a little twitch of a smile. How was he so good at this? She supposed he’d already had a lot of practice at pretending he didn’t have any feelings beyond a friendly respect for her. “Pepperpeaches.”
“Well what would you have called them?”
He didn’t get a chance to answer, because Neelix was back with the cobbler and an endless stream of chatter. “Now you just try that and tell me it’s not the most wonderful thing you’ve ever tasted!”
The absolute last thing she wanted to do was taste that fruit again, here in the mess hall surrounded by her crew.
“Mr. Neelix, I’m sure it’s wonderful, but I’m—”
“Now, now, I won’t hear of it. You must at least try a bite, Captain, I insist.” Neelix scooped a bit of the cobbler onto a spoon and fed it to her. “Well?”
“It’s delicious,” she said, and it was; lightly spiced, warm, with a crumbly topping. If only the taste didn’t carry such an intense memory — was it really only three days ago that she and Chakotay had been eating this fruit under the trees, completely alone? It tasted like kissing him, like licking his neck. She felt a flush creeping over her skin and swallowed. “Very good,” she said. “Thank you, Mr. Neelix.”
“Commander Chakotay?” said Neelix.
“You don’t need to spoon feed me, Neelix,” said Chakotay, holding his hand up. “I’ll give it a try on my own.” He took a bite, and nodded. “It’s very good,” he said, politely.
“I’m so glad you both like it! Oh, I wish we had some more of those peaches, but I don’t suppose we’ll be going back to that planet again. Well! You two enjoy that, and I’ll go get your dinners ready. I’ve always been a big believer in dessert first. Life is short, life is short!”
“Yes it is,” she said absently, wishing there were some way she could get out of here. Were they really going to sit here together and eat this cobbler?
“You know what it needs,” said Chakotay.
“Vanilla ice cream.”
He nodded. “Exactly.”
“I’d hate to see his interpretation of ice cream,” she whispered, and he grinned. “How are those repairs coming?” she asked, trying to redirect the conversation to safer territory.
“Good. B’Elanna and I finished up the phase relays this afternoon. Everything’s ready for the next catastrophe.”
“Well, maybe the next catastrophe is the one that gets us home.”
“Here’s hoping.” He raised his cup in a little salute.
Although she’d been dismayed when Neelix dragged her over to his table, and had been dreading having to eat dinner with Chakotay while pretending that everything that had passed between them on New Earth had never happened at all, in the end, it was fine. They talked about neutral work subjects: the ship, and where they should head next, and what the crew had told them each about what they’d been doing in their absence. There was no end of work to catch up on, so any time the conversation threatened to turn personal, it was easy to find something else to talk about. After a while the people who were watching, hoping to see some kind of clue as to what the captain and first officer had gotten up to in their months away, got bored and looked away.
She walked back to her quarters, feeling relieved. Things could go back to normal. But when she was safely inside, a wave of sadness passed through her. It had been so good, and so short lived. It wasn’t fair.
She ran herself a bath, and got a glass of wine from the replicator. She shouldn’t be wasting replicator credits on wine, but maybe it would help her relax.
It was relaxing. But the problem with the bath was that every time her hands brushed over her own bare skin in the water, she thought about Chakotay’s hands, and his lips, and his broad chest.
She tried instead to think about the last time she and Mark had been together, but she couldn’t seem to remember it. Well, she hadn’t known it would be the last time they’d be together, so she hadn’t made a point of remembering it. She sighed. Should you really have to make a special effort for that? Sex with Mark had been… fine. Unobjectionable. Enjoyable, but unmemorable. Even when it had been new, there hadn’t been the kind of intense connection she’d felt with Chakotay. She’d thought that was just what grown-up love was like, that intense passion was for young people.
Poor Mark. He was a good man. Maybe he’d moved on, found someone who could really appreciate him. It had been a few years now. He’d keep Mollie, of course. He’d never get rid of Mollie. But maybe he’d given up on Kathryn ever coming back and had found someone else. That idea should have made her sad, but what she felt was relief.
She sighed, lifted her leg up and watched the beads of water roll down her skin back to the tub, feeling restless. Her neck was killing her. A few nights ago they’d been in the bath together, and he’d gently worked the kinks out of her neck with his strong hands, and they’d looked up at the stars and tried to decide which ones should be their constellations. She closed her eyes and settled deeper in the water, took a few deep breaths to try to clear her head.
It was useless. A cold shower would have been more appropriate. She polished off her wine, drained the bath, and wrapped herself in a towel.
It’s only the second night, she told herself. You just need a few days. You’ll forget all about it in time. Pretty soon, something will happen, the ship will get into some kind of trouble, and you won’t have any time or energy to spare to think about that. It’ll all just fade away, like it never happened. It sounds hard to believe right now, but it will happen. It will.
She changed for bed and picked up a book. Not one of her beloved Gothic romances; that was the last thing she needed now. Something dry and boring that would put her to sleep right away, she hoped. She settled into bed — I noticed that sometimes you sit up in bed reading — and slumped over with the book on her knees. How much more clearly could he have said I love you than he had with every quiet action he’d taken down there? How incredibly stupid could she be, to let a man build her a bathtub and somehow not realize what it meant?
Intensely irritated with herself, she threw the stupid book to the foot of the bed.
She got out of bed again and changed back into uniform. She’d go ask the Doctor for something to help her sleep. Maybe while she’d been away, he’d invented some kind of treatment for the age-old problem of falling for someone you weren’t supposed to. Wouldn’t that be convenient.
In the corridor, she nearly collided with Chakotay the moment she stepped out her door. “Oh!”
“Captain,” he said, looking slightly flustered. “Excuse me.”
“No, not at all. I came charging out— I was just going down to see the Doctor.”
“Is everything all right?”
“Oh, yes. Everything’s— I always have a hard time sleeping, when I get back to space after too long planetside. It’s so quiet. So I was just—”
“So do I. I think most people do. I was having the same problem. Well. Goodnight, Kath— Captain.”
She laughed nervously. “This is ridiculous. We’re going to have to figure out a way to— be around each other, again.”
There was a slight change in his body, a loosening, like he was relieved she’d said something. “I know. So it’s not just me?”
She shook her head. “It’s not just you. But people are going to— they’re going to suspect, and we can’t—”
“B’Elanna already said something,” he said quietly.
She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Wonderful.”
“But we’re friends,” he said. “She knows me pretty well. She won’t say anything to anyone else.”
She nodded absently, not sure what to do or say now, caught between two conflicting desires.
“I’ll let you go,” said Chakotay. “I’ll see you in the morning, Captain.”
She nodded brusquely. “Commander.”
****
He leaned back against the closed door of his quarters. That hadn’t been so bad, except for that slipup when he’d nearly called her by name. It was easier to keep things straight when they were on duty, but alone in the corridor in the dead of night…
She was having a hard time, too. He didn’t know how to feel about that. As long as he’d known her, his primary objective had been to make her life easier. Anticipate her needs; smooth her path. Take whatever burdens he could. The thought that she might be in pain — that he was causing her pain, even if indirectly — was painful to him. But he was only human, and it was gratifying, in a way, that she had cared enough about him, or had enjoyed their time together enough, that it was hard for her to come back to reality.
He sighed. None of this was fair. It wasn’t fair that he’d fallen in love with his captain in the first place, but he’d found a way to live with it. No one had known how he felt about her; it had been a tender little secret he’d nursed in his heart. He’d simply thrown himself into being the best first officer, the best friend, that he could be, and he’d been good at it, and that had satisfied him. And then had come their infection, and the solitude of their new world, which they half-jokingly called New Earth, and while she’d been trying to find a cure that they both knew didn’t exist — or so he thought — he’d gone about doing everything he could to make her comfortable, so that when she was ready to admit the truth, it would be an easier transition.
And then that perfect two days, when they’d been together, really together, and he could love her openly for the first time, and she had welcomed it. Maybe even started to love him back. It had been the best two days of his life.
And now they were back, and it was over. And that was all right. It had to be all right, because he didn’t have any choice about it. A good captain — and Kathryn was a great captain — didn’t form romantic relationships with someone on their crew; especially not their first officer.
It wasn’t so bad on the bridge. They had roles to play there, and it was easy enough to slip back into them. But seeing her just now, in the middle of the night — she hadn’t put her hair back up, it was just braided back, like how she’d worn it when she’d been his lover, and it had been wet, which meant she’d been bathing — with no one else around, he’d almost forgotten, just for a moment, that they weren’t lovers any longer.
****
He’s at her door. “Kathryn, I love you. I miss you. I need you.” His arms are around her and his lips are at her throat, and the sun is shining— isn’t she on the ship? — but the sun is shining on them and this is wrong, she thinks, this is wrong, but how can it be, when it feels so good, yes, she whispers, oh yes, oh please, please, and now she’s on her back, underneath him, yes, this is what she wants, this is what she needs, what she’s always needed, yes, yes, yes—
She woke up, gasping, too hot under the bedclothes. She took a deep breath, trying to banish the dream, pushing the covers onto the floor in an attempt to cool off. It was nearly time to get up. To go back on duty. Back to the bridge. He would be there. She closed her eyes, tried to concentrate on anything else. How could she walk onto the bridge again? Surely everyone would see it written on her face; he would, especially, because he knew her so well.
She got up, dressed, did her hair. Drank her coffee. Thought about him making her coffee like he had on the planet, pouring water through a sieve. Thought about his lips on her neck. Thought about his hands on her hips. Thought about seeing him and not wanting him. It was impossible. Who could resist a man so devoted to them?
Why couldn’t Voyager have come just a few days earlier, before she’d known what it felt like to come undone under his touch? Before she’d belatedly clued in to the in-retrospect-obvious fact that he’d been in love with her all along?
Work was fine. There was an interesting nebula a few lightyears away, and they decided to check it out. A briefing with the senior staff — standard stuff. She couldn’t help but watch Torres carefully for any sign that the chief engineer knew what had happened, but whatever Torres knew, she was keeping it to herself. Thank God for that.
It was unavoidable that the two of them were going to have to meet privately to go over personnel issues. There was simply no way around it. She was dreading it, and at the same time eager to be alone with him, to be able to talk to him without worrying that she’d accidentally give something away to the other people in the room — that she’d smile too much, or she’d forget herself and touch his hand, or something else catastrophic that would start rumors flying.
So she found herself, toward the end of the day, in her ready room with him, alone, a cup of coffee close at hand.
“Are you sure that’s not why you’re having trouble sleeping?” he asked, nodding at the coffee.
“It’s decaf,” she said. “And it’s terrible.” Trouble sleeping, she thought ruefully. You have no idea. Or maybe he did.
What would he do, she wondered, if she tried to touch him now? Under his calm exterior, was he just as riled up as she was? She took a sip of her terrible coffee and frowned at the pad she was supposed to be reading. Duty rosters.
“This looks good,” she said.
“I’ll finalize it, then. Oh, there was an incident in Engineering.”
“Yes, I heard something about that.”
“Nothing major, but I do think discipline may have slipped a little around here while we were gone. I talked to B’Elanna about it and it’s been straightened out.”
“Good.”
They talked just a bit longer, and it was as easy as it always had been, and then there was nothing left to say, but she didn’t want to let him leave.
“Well,” he said. “If there’s nothing else, Captain?”
“No, thank you, Mr. Chakotay. That’ll be all.” He stood to leave, but he seemed as reluctant to go as she was to let him. He turned away, and impulsively, she stood up. “Chakotay, wait.”
He turned to face her, his face apprehensive and tender. She tried to think of something; some work related excuse for him to stay longer, but there was nothing. “Captain?” he asked.
Thank God for the desk between them, because she wasn’t at all sure that without the barrier she could have stopped herself from stepping forward into the warm circle of his arms.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t— There’s nothing else to say, is there?” She sank back down into her chair, feeling heavy and tired. Exhausted, really.
“Are you all right?” He seated himself across from her again.
“Tired,” she said. “Just tired. And I guess I’m having… a hard time. Recalibrating.”
“Me too.”
“It’s only been a couple of days,” she said, uselessly. “I’m sure we’ll… get there.”
“I’m sure we will.”
“You’re just agreeing with whatever I say, aren’t you?”
His lips twitched with a little smile. “No.”
“It does… I mean it does have to be this way. Right?” Was she half hoping he’d say no, Kathryn, you’re overthinking it, there’s no reason we can’t be together if we want to?
He paused. “Are you asking what I think, or what I want?”
“I don’t know. Either one. Both."
“What I think,” he said slowly, “is that you’d regret it. I think you’d never feel… at ease, about it.”
She bit her tongue in an attempt to control the rush of emotion. He knew her so well.
“I shouldn’t ask,” said Chakotay. “But I… if things were different, even if I weren’t the only person in the world—”
She cut him off. "Yes." He looked at her with sad eyes. "Yes," she said again, her voice almost a whisper.
He nodded, looking down at his hands. “I should go,” he said at last.
“Yes,” she agreed. “I’m sure they need you on the bridge. I’ll be along shortly.”
He stood again and nodded to her. “Captain.”
When he was gone, she leaned back in her chair and looked up at the ceiling for a moment, then got up and wandered to the window, looking out at the stars. One of her mentors had warned her, when she’d first started seriously pursuing a captaincy, that it was a lonely job. Starship crews, especially those on long haul missions, tended to get very close. Deep friendships formed; romances, sometimes. It was to be expected. But the captain had to maintain her distance. She could be friendly with the crew, but they couldn’t really be friends.
She hadn’t been worried about it. She’d always been independent — too independent, more than one of her exes had told her, usually on their way out the door. And Voyager wasn’t supposed to be a long haul deep space posting. She’d been based on Earth, mostly. They went out for short trips — a few weeks, a few months — and came back. It had been a perfect posting for her. She had friends on Earth, her family. Mark. She’d had her life figured out.
She was searching the sky for their constellation, the one she’d invented based on his “ancient legend.” But of course she couldn’t find it. In just a few days, they’d travelled so far that she’d never see that configuration of stars again. Why did that feel like such a loss?
They’d been in the bath. It was after they’d tried the pepperpeaches and had ended up making love under the trees as the sun went down. He had cupped water in his hands and poured it over her, and he’d rubbed the sore place in her neck, his hands as expert at unkinking the knots in her muscles as they were at everything else. She’d been looking up at the starry sky and was suddenly overwhelmed by its beauty, by the sweet perfection of this moment in the arms of a man who loved her, and who she was coming to love, and she’d needed to do something to ensure she never forgot it, so she started searching the sky for patterns.
“We need constellations,” she’d said. “We can make any constellations we want. And I was thinking… most Earth constellations are based on legends, aren’t they?”
“Mm-hmm. In the Northern hemisphere,” he’d replied.
“Well,” she’d said. “I heard a very interesting and beautiful legend this morning, that might make a good one.” And she’d pointed out the shapes in the sky, making them real. “That’s his heart,” she’d said, “and his legs and feet come down like this, you see?”
“Yes,” Chakotay had said warmly.
“And he’s holding something — what kind of weapon does he carry?”
“Mm… a spear.”
“Okay. Yes, there’s his spear, those two in a line.”
“Is he all alone up there?”
“Of course not! Didn’t you listen to your own story? No, go over, oh, about twenty degrees. See that S shape? That’s her hair.” She’d sketched out the vaguely humanoid shape of the female warrior and he had claimed to see it as clear as anything. “And right there,” she’d added, “in between them. That one star that’s brighter than anything else in the sky? That’s where their hands are joined.” She’d been so pleased with herself. Maybe it wasn’t quite as romantic as the story as he’d told it, but she was happy to have something to contribute to it.
There had been a long moment of stillness, where she couldn’t even feel him breathe, and then he’d caught her up in a fiery kiss.
That star was still visible, still brighter than anything around it. She couldn’t see the shapes of either warrior anymore, but there were their joined hands, shining out there. Her hand and Chakotay’s hand. The life they might have had together. The love that was growing there between them, and that now she had to find a way to stamp out, no matter what her heart was pleading for.
If things were different, he’d asked. And even if I weren’t the only person in the world…
But things aren’t different, she told herself. You’re just going to have to get used to that.
But maybe, someday… A tiny hope fluttered in her chest. Maybe they’d get home. Back to Earth. And he wouldn’t be her first officer anymore. And then, maybe…
And what about Mark? she asked herself, guiltily. What if he still wants to get married?
But she didn’t want to marry Mark. Not anymore. If she ever really had. They’d been engaged for years — surely if she’d really wanted to marry him, she wouldn’t have kept putting off the wedding. She wouldn’t have kept making excuses. She’d hardly ever even worn her ring. It was back in her apartment in San Francisco, because she hadn’t wanted to wear it aboardship. Jewelry was technically against the uniform code, but it was the kind of rule that wasn’t usually enforced too strictly, and she certainly could have worn it when she was off duty, but she hadn’t. She hadn’t wanted to. She’d only worn it at home because he wanted her to.
If Chakotay were getting married, he’d probably make his bride’s ring himself. He’d reveal a hidden talent for metalworking and make something simple and perfect that would suit—
Honestly, Kathryn. Really? She rolled her eyes at herself. It must be true love, she thought, because it’s turning me into a ridiculous person. She returned to her desk and started working.
****
When he got off duty, B’Elanna convinced him to join her on the holodeck, where Tom Paris had his little French cafe program running. “Don’t just go back to your quarters and brood all night.”
“Brood? I don’t brood.”
“If you won’t do it for yourself, think of it as a favor to me. Tom is less annoying when you’re around.”
“He gets worse?”
“You have no idea.”
At any rate, she had a point; if he went back to his quarters, he’d spend the evening replaying the incident in the captain’s ready room. He could at least put it off for a few hours. Get back into the swing of ship life. Recalibrate, as Kathryn — as the captain said.
So he went, and watched Tom flirt, poorly, with B’Elanna, and watched B’Elanna pretend she didn’t know that’s what he was doing, and he drank a little more than was probably wise. It was synthehol, of course, so it didn’t really matter. He wondered why B’Elanna was putting up with Tom’s obnoxious flirting. She’d called Tom “annoying,” so why were they even here, spending time with him? He’d like to tell Tom to tone it down a little, but B’Elanna was perfectly capable of shutting him up if she wanted to — she could probably kill Tom with her bare hands without breaking a sweat — and wouldn’t appreciate Chakotay stepping in. She’d probably find it insulting.
Synthehol or not, he was starting to feel a little unsteady, so he excused himself to return to his quarters. B’Elanna came with him, despite Tom’s complaints. He could feel Tom’s eyes burning a big jealous hole in his back as he left. Up the wrong tree, Paris, he thought.
“That wasn’t so terrible, was it?” asked B’Elanna as they made their way down the corridor. “Admit it, you almost had a good time.”
“It was nice,” he said, agreeably, distracted. They got in the turbolift. “So what’s going on there?” he asked.
“Going on where?”
“You and Paris.”
B’Elanna made a face. “No. Gross. Are you kidding?”
He directed his eyes to the ceiling. “If you say so.”
“Chakotay! Tom Paris is the worst.”
“Mm-hmm. So what are you doing at his bar every night?”
She whacked him on the arm. “It’s just a nice place to hang out and decompress after a long day. Tom is just an annoying means to an end.”
The turbolift opened and they emerged. He expected B’Elanna to turn the opposite direction, down where her quarters were, but instead she kept pace with him as he walked toward his. Two doors down.
“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “Because you can do a lot better.” He stopped at his door.
She laughed. “I don’t know, the pickings on this ship are pretty slim. And you know the only reason I’m letting you interrogate me like this is because now I get to do the same thing. And we can do it out here in the hall or you can let me in.”
He let her in, reluctantly. “I can’t really talk about—”
“You're going to have to talk to somebody about it,” said B'Elanna. “Who on this ship could you trust more than me?”
“Nobody,” he acknowledged. Nobody except the captain, that is.
“So?” She threw herself onto the sofa. “Come on, I’m not going to tell anyone anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“It’s not. I’m not worried about anything, B’Elanna, I just don’t want to talk about it.”
“I guess things got pretty serious down there.”
He didn’t want to deny it, so he didn’t say anything, and walked over to the window.
“Chakotay.”
“What do you want me to say, B’Elanna?” he asked, exasperated. “That I’m in love with her?”
B’Elanna’s eyes were wide. “...are you?”
He didn’t answer, but he walked over to his replicator and ordered a drink, which was probably as good as a yes, and sank onto the end of the sofa, opposite B’Elanna.
“Chakotay?” B’Elanna sat upright and reached out to set her hand on his arm. “Does she know?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And… nothing. She’s the captain.”
“So?”
“So… she’s the captain.”
“So what, you’re just both supposed to live like monks? You know we’re never going home, right?”
“I don’t know that, and neither do you. A week ago I knew I was never coming back to Voyager.”
“Can I have one of those?” she asked, indicating his drink. He nodded, and she went to the replicator and ordered a drink of her own. “I don’t suppose you have any of the real stuff lying around,” she said.
“We can’t drink the real stuff, B’Elanna.”
“I know, I know, in case of emergency, blah blah blah. You know on Klingon ships they put bloodwine away by the liter.”
“You don’t even like bloodwine.”
“But I like drinking.” She sat down again. “Okay. Do you want my advice?”
“Not really, no.”
“We’ve known each other a long time. I like to think that we’re pretty close friends. Would you agree with that?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, good. I’ve known you a long time, and I’ve seen the change in you since we got to Voyager. It’s like you’re… taller, or like you put down something heavy that you’d been carrying for a long time. You used to be so… And I know something similar has happened to me,” she went on. “And it was because of the captain, I think. Because she trusted us when she had every reason not to. Right?”
He nodded, reluctantly.
“So I get it. There’s something special about her. There really is. And whatever happened down there between you, it must have meant something. To both of you. So I think you’d be stupid to just walk away from it.”
“It’s not up to me, B’Elanna. She gets a vote, too.” In his mind he heard her again, asking it does have to be this way, right? Almost like she was looking for permission. Asking him to convince her that it was all right. And as much as he would like to believe that it would be, he knew her too well. She wouldn’t be able to do it. Not on the ship. Not as the captain. Maybe the next catastrophe is the one that gets us home, she’d said yesterday at dinner. Maybe it would. Maybe by some miracle, they’d be back in their own quadrant again soon, and then he could step aside as first officer, leave Starfleet behind again and they could find some way…
An unlikely series of events. But they hadn’t believed they’d ever leave that planet again, and here they were. There had to be some hope.
“Sorry to kick you out,” he said, “but I’m pretty tired.”
B’Elanna sighed. “You’re not going to listen to me, are you?”
“We don’t always get what we want, B’Elanna. That’s life.”
She drained her glass. “All right. See you tomorrow. Sweet dreams.” She smirked.
“You’re not going to say anything to anyone.”
“Of course not. Come on. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“B’Elanna,” he said, as she stepped out the door. “Thanks.”
“Anytime, Chakotay.”
****
It did get easier. They settled back into their old routines. She still habitually looked for that one star, knowing that eventually it would dim and fade and finally disappear from the sky altogether. When that happened, she thought, her feelings for Chakotay would go with it, and she would be free. She wasn’t sure where she had come up with such a superstitious and nonsensical idea, but she found it somehow comforting.
She was both looking forward to and dreading the day the star disappeared. She liked being able to think of herself as someone that could love and be loved, and until Chakotay she hadn’t realized that she didn’t think of herself that way. Too many people had found her too difficult to love. She was too driven, too focused; more interested in chasing the next strange anomaly, the next fascinating scientific mystery than she was in devoting time to relationships.
Chakotay had told her that it was one of his favorite things about her, the way she lit up when she talked about science. “You’re brighter,” he’d told her. “You glow.” And she’d felt like she was glowing.
Life went on, like it had to. It got easier. Away from the slow pace and natural rhythms of life planetside, back in the bustle of ship life, she found herself slipping back into who she’d been before. It was reassuring. A tiny bit disappointing, maybe, but mostly reassuring. They were friendly again; a good team. Sometimes she caught him looking at her a little too carefully; sometimes she caught herself being distracted by his hands. Occasionally she still lay awake in her bed and felt lonely. But most of the time, it was all right. She might never get to be truly happy, but she was satisfied, and that had to be enough.