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Starfleet officers were trained to overcome pain. Mental exercises were taught so that one who is overcome can prevail, and conquer almost any discomfort. Months and years and decades of rigorous study and practice surely prepared her to surmount this. Kathryn reminded herself of all this as she paced. Her back burned and her abdomen clenched. She could only hope that the next phase would spell relief, even as crossing from one side of the small chamber to the other grew more difficult with each step. Preparation and education could really only take you so far. At a certain point, withstanding pain was truly mind over matter. Kathryn willed herself to continue. If she stopped pacing, if she let herself be consumed by the pain, she’d be lost. She’d succumb to the torment. A figure approached, his features made hazy by Kathryn’s anguish. Blurred hands reached for her neck. She tried weakly to waive him off. ‘Not yet,’ she though. ‘Maybe soon, but not yet.’
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As Chakotay jogs down the corridor, he’s met by a familiar face.
“Captain. I'm glad you could join us." Voyager’s EMH greets him sardonically. “She’s kicked all medical personnel out of the room. I was only brought in because she has a slightly better track record listening to me. But now, even I’ve been banished.”
Catching his breath, Chakotay puts his hand on the doctor’s shoulder, in part for greeting and sympathy, and in part for his own physical support. The last few years away from the constant danger or a starship have caught up with him, and he probably shouldn’t be running through hospitals until he’s back in fighting form. If the look on the doctor’s face is any indication, he need to be in that condition now.
“Doctor. It’s not the first time she’s dismissed you, and it won’t be the last.” Chakotay’s calm and dimpled smile belied his anxiety and his need to be with her. “How about I give it a try?”
“Good luck, Captain.” The EMH replies, handing Chakotay the loaded hypospray.
The room Chakotay enters is dim and cool. Gentle music plays softly over unseen speakers. His eyes scan the room, but he doesn’t see her.
“Kathryn?” A moment passes with no response. It’s just long enough for him to begin to worry. He’s about to sound the alert for an escaped patient when he hears her.
“Down here.” The soft but tight voice is coming from the other side of the bed. Low and out of sight. As he crosses to it, he sees the formidable Kathryn Janeway laying on her side on the floor, a firm peanut shaped pillow wedged between her knees.
“What are you doing? How did you even get down there?” Setting the hypospray on the bedside table, he stoops to sit next to her, and wipes the strands of sodden hair from her sweaty brow.
“I was sick to death of walking, so I leaned against the wall and slid down. Gently, of course. The bed was too warm.”
Chakotay touches the tile floor and it’s cool to the touch; welcome respite for one so warm. Suddenly, Kathryn’s face clenches, gripped in a silent scream. Her lungs fill and hold, not wanting to release their breath. Her eyes press shut and her long fingers ball into fists. Calling on his training, Chakotay slowing and calmly counts to ten, and waits for the wave to pass. As her breathing resumes, Chakotay rubs her lightly on her back. She has sweat through her medical gown, and it’s sticking to her clammy skin.
“You know you’re supposed to breathe,” he lightly chastises her, flashing a reassuring smile. But she shoots him a look that reminds him that it took less than a comment like that to result in the entirety of Starfleet Medical to be removed from the room. She won’t find him so easily expelled though. “Sorry. I know. I’ll leave any further commentary in the hall. Let’s get you up.” As he helps her to shift a seated position, he removes the peanut shaped pillow from between her knees.
“It’s to help my hips. Apparently, I’m narrow.”
Chakotay sighs. It’s hard to walk a predestined path when you’ve never see the trail before.
“Kathryn, I know that you’re set on doing this a specific way...”
“Stow it, Commander.” Her tone and use of his former title reminding him who’s in charge here. “We’ve been over this.” Kathryn’s voice starts to falter and her breath begins to quicken. “Traditional practices are important. Both from...” she pauses as she sits up on her knees, pain wracking her small frame, her hands on Chakotay’s shoulders for support, wringing at the fabric of his shirt. “...an anthropological ...perspective and a ...scientific one. As long as no one is in danger...”She never finishes the thought. The wave has crested and she leans her weary head on his shoulder. As his strong hands massage her lumbar spine, giving her some small measure of relief, the comm panel in the room beeps. The display blares brightly into the darkened room, presenting the visage of one highly annoyed EMH.
“I hate to interrupt, but I’m afraid her monitor shows that it’s time. If you could please return to the bed and permit the staff to enter.”
“Just a minute, Doctor.” Chakotay turns back to Kathryn, his eyes locking with hers, his hands raising to her face. “I think I may have a way to help you through this. It’s what I was working on after class let out. I didn’t realize how fast things would happen or I’d have been here sooner.”
“It’s alright. I didn’t tell anyone until it was almost too late. You’re not the only contrary person in the room.”
“Come with me. Just down the hall.”
Kathryn nods her consent. She trusts him more than she trusts herself. Especially right now. Especially with this. He helps her to her feet and hand in hand they slowly lumber to the door and into the hall, where they are greeted by anxious and worried faces. Kathryn has to pause as another wave of pain grips her. The crowd collectively gasps, fearing for the worst. But Kathryn breathes through the blinding agony, pulling power from the hands that hold her; one wrapped around her back, one weaving through her hair and massaging her scalp. Waiving the onlookers away, the pair continues into a nearby room. Its slightly larger than the first, with air of higher humidity point and scented with jasmine. Two dozen peach roses are in a vase on a small table and they immediately bring a smile to Kathryn’s tired face. Chakotay, however, guides her away from the flowers to the opposite corner of the room, where standing waiting for her is the biggest bathtub she has ever seen. It’s really almost a small pool, and the sight of it fills Kathryn with relief.
“They’re not so common anymore, but water births were quite popular with many Traditionalists.” Standing behind her, Chakotay lifts the hospital gown from Kathryn’s body, pulling it over her head and off her arms. She stands naked before him, so frail and yet so powerful; her swollen belly containing hope and joy and the future. She’s dazed and staring at the warmed water before her, its surface lightly lapping as an attendant checks the temperature. As she crosses closer to the pool, Chakotay deftly removes his shirt and pants, leaving him in a pair of lightweight black shorts. He joins her at the pool’s edge, standing just behind her, his fingers trailing up and down her arms. “We’re in this together. We share the same bed, the same love, the same strength, and soon so much more.”
He crosses in front of her and steps into the water, his arm outstretched towards her, beckoning her to join him. Chakotay sits with his back against the wall of the pool, his legs apart, and she nestles between them, her back resting on his chest. The warm water laps as them, soothing her tired muscles, the buoyancy calming her, relieving her.
A nurse checks Kathryn’s progression and confirms that at her next contraction, she is free to push. This is a moment that she never thought would come. To be in this place, with this man, about to have this experience leaves Kathryn overcome. She doesn’t get any time to dwell in the magnitude of what is about to happen as she is faced with another contraction.
Chakotay’s reassuring presence behind her, the movement of the medical staff, the splashing of the water as she arches, all fade into the background. All Kathryn knows is a distant voice counting to ten, and an undeniable urge to push. Voices urge her to breathe, tell her to scream if she feels she needs to, and inform her that she is doing wonderfully. There is a brief reprieve before another wave, another crest, another ten count, and another instinctual need. It feels evolutionary and primal. This need that has consumed her to bear down, to feel this life exit her, and as she thinks she doesn’t have an ounce of will left in her being, she and Chakotay are no longer alone in the pool.
Nestled between her thighs is their daughter. Kathryn is overcome at the sight. Mere moments ago, this tiny being was almost an abstract concept, hidden away inside her. Now she is real. Flesh and blood and here. Kathryn reaches down and scoops the tiny infant from the water, bringing her to her chest.
“Hello, my love,” Kathryn chokes out. She didn’t realize that she was crying. She wipes the vernix from the baby’s eyes, who turns to snuggle at her mother’s breast. Pressing a kiss to her brow, Kathryn turns to show the infant to Chakotay, her husband. Just as Kathryn was, Chakotay is overcome. Tears flow freely down his face and into the pool. He pulls Kathryn towards him and presses hurried kisses to her cheeks and hair. He brings a hand out of the water to strokes the soft hair on his daughter’s head.
By now the EMH has eschewed his banishment and entered the room to evaluate the newborn. The pair in the tub look up at him with eyes brimming full of joy as Kathryn hands him the baby and he scans her with a medical tricorder.
“She’s in perfect health. Congratulations. Now, are you ready to meet your son?” Smiling at each other, Kathryn and Chakotay nod, still too overcome to form words. Twins were less of a longshot for them, given the assistance they had in conceiving. When they were told, they were overjoyed. To be so blessed after so much fear and doubt was truly special. Two children made their family complete.
It’s only another moment before Kathryn is gripped by another contraction and another primal urge. Her body is more ready this time, and her son slides quickly into the world. This time, it’s Chakotay who pulls the infant from the water.
“Hey there buddy,” he says as he places the boy on Kathryn’s chest. “We’ve been waiting for you.” The infant wails a hungry cry and begins rooting on Kathryn’s breast. She chuckles lightly and helps guide him. The doctor brings their daughter back and hands her to Chakotay but realizes that the boy will need a moment or two before his checkup, so he turns and leaves to give the new family some time.
“This is it, Kathryn. Our new generation of Voyagers. Where do you think they’ll explore? Here on Earth, looking to the past? Or up in the stars, finding the future?” Chakotay asks, pressing a kiss into his wife’s hair.
“Maybe one of each?” She says as she arches to kiss her husband's cheek and turns back to the bundle at her breast. “Caylem.” Kathryn names their son after a father from across the universe.
“Kessa.” Chakotay names their daughter after a friend long gone.
As the delivery is finished, the pain is gone, and the is love doubled; the new family sits quietly together, safe in the knowledge that wherever the voyage takes them, it will take them together.