Work Text:
'It is this officer's recommendation that the Baframonians be designated as a possibly hostile species due to the questionable conduct...'
Kathryn sighed and looked up. Yet another first contact report written by a newly promoted, highly officious captain who demanded that a species be classified as hostile for simply looking at him funny.
"Rookies," she muttered, and Chakotay briefly looked up from his own work, grinning at her.
She found herself again captivated by the endless reaches beyond the boundary of Chakotay's backyard. It was a harsh and unforgiving landscape, but there was something magnificent and almost ethereal about it. Chakotay had frequently waxed poetically on the beauty of the desert, and she'd often found herself smiling and nodding and inwardly rolling her eyes. It wasn't until she began regularly visiting his home in the Arizona desert that she truly began to understand what drew him to this forbidding locale.
Of course, she thought as she glanced around, he's as much of a child of two worlds as I am.
His home was adobe and terra cotta, decorated in a minimalist fashion that suited him, in earth tones that blended very well with the landscape around it. It was also fully modern, temperature regulated with weatherproofing, and it had all the conveniences that might be provided by a fully stocked starship cabin.
And some conveniences that might not, she added, glancing beyond the shaded patio where they sat into his cool, gleaming, inviting swimming pool. As if he'd read her mind -- which wouldn't have completely surprised her, since he had appeared to do it often enough on Voyager -- he stood, dropping his padds onto the table between them as he stripped off the light shirt he was wearing.
Her gaze lingered on his broadly muscled chest, on his skin, which was now a deep, rich bronze from living for nearly a year in this sun-baked area. He shifted, and she glanced up to find him grinning slyly at her. She looked back at the pool as she felt her cheeks flush.
"You coming?" he asked her, and she shook her head.
"I've got to finish this damn report and make my recommendations."
"Kathryn, you've got all weekend to finish that. Come cool off."
"Maybe in a little while."
He shrugged. "Suit yourself."
Kathryn watched over the top of her padd as he dove gracefully into the pool and began swimming laps. He moved through the water so effortlessly, powerful muscles propelling him easily from one end of the pool to the other, and an ache began to build deep within her as she watched.
She sighed and turned her attention back to her padd, but her thoughts were on him even if her gaze wasn't. His relationship with Seven had ended amicably not long after Voyager had returned from the Delta Quadrant, and her hopes had quickly and quietly risen. There hadn't, however, been even a hint of a romantic overture from him in the months that followed, though he had seemed eager to rebuild the friendship that had become so strained in the last months of their voyage.
She longed to tell him what she felt, to ask him if he no longer felt the connection that had existed between them for so long, but she was afraid. Her own stubbornness and fear had kept them apart for so long, and she was frightened that he would tell her that he no longer wanted her, that he had grown and moved on. She feared that her confession would ruin the newly rebuilt friendship and make things awkward between them, so she remained quiet and gratefully accepted his friendship. She was glad that she had that, at least, knowing that if she was careful of it and nurtured it, she would have it forever. Chakotay didn't abandon his friends, having lost too many of them to be careless with the ones that remained.
Realizing that the faint splashing had stopped, she looked up to find him at the edge of the pool, his chin resting on his folded arms, watching her. His hair was slicked back, away from his face, and she grinned as she realized the sun was glinting off strands of silver at his temples. Good, she thought. About time he let it go natural again.
"Come on in," he said playfully, "The water's fine."
She rolled her eyes and dropped her padd onto her chair, knowing she wasn't getting any work done anyway. She moved closer and sat on the deck beside the pool, lowering her legs into the water. It was cool, and she closed her eyes in relief.
"That's it?" he asked her, raising an eyebrow, and she slapped him lightly on the shoulder.
"For now." She narrowed her eyes. "Why are you so intent on getting me in the water, anyway, mister?"
He looked wounded. "I'm not planning anything, I just don't want you to overheat, Kathryn. It's hot out here." His hurt look vanished, and he regarded her somberly. "After all, I know you have a delicate constitution."
She stared at him, astonished. "Del... me... what?" she sputtered, and he laughed. She rolled her eyes at his teasing and said, "So, what exactly are you working on that requires -- " Turning, she quickly counted. "Nine padds?"
His cheeks flushed and he tugged briefly at his ear. "I'm preparing a lecture on the Mayan calendar and its similarities to the calendar system of a sect of ancient Andorians for my sophomores, but... uh... my notes... well, they aren't very organized."
She laughed, remembering all of the lectures she'd heard him hand out to crewmen about disorganization and incomplete reports, and all the muttering she'd heard as they worked together in her ready room. "You don't say. It sounds interesting, though."
Chakotay's eyes lit up. "It is." He began outlining his lecture for her, and she listened intently, loving his enthusiasm. It was a joy for her to see him so fired up about something, as he'd often been in the early years in the Delta Quadrant. Later on, there had been much less fire and much more grim determination. When he'd finished, she asked him a few questions that had him thinking deeply and nodding, and he smiled, dimples flashing. "That's a great point," he told her. "Thanks, I'll have to remember that. I should bounce my ideas off of you more often."
She laughed. "My pleasure. You were my sounding board more times than I can count."
He grinned wryly. "And sometimes you actually listened to me."
And there it was. She blinked, trying not to let the words hurt her. Even now, when things were going so smoothly, some past hurt would sail out of the blue and land between them, impossible to ignore.
Chakotay sighed. "I'm sorry, Kathryn."
She shook her head, resting her hand on his shoulder. "No. No, don't be sorry. You're right. I was a little deaf at times, and I didn't give you -- or anyone else -- the attention that your ideas deserved."
"But it worked," he argued. "We're here. You got us home."
"No. I didn't do anything. We got us home."
"Yes, but without you -- "
"No. We did it together, Chakotay."
They shared a smile as the argument became a familiar one, and the tension between them faded. He was grinning up at her.
"What?"
"I can see freckles."
She quickly brought her hands up to her cheeks. "Oh no. I've got to get out of the sun." She scrambled up and retreated back to the safety of the patio. "Do you want something to drink?"
"There's some more lemonade in the cooling unit," he said. "Be careful, the tiles in the kitchen are slippery when your feet are wet."
"Yes, Dad," she called as she headed for the house.
He huffed in mock indignation. "Well, how about this then? I just cleaned those tiles, and if you get water marks on them, you'll be the one scrubbing them!"
She laughed, turning and throwing a smart salute at him. "Aye, sir!"
When she returned, bearing two tall glasses of ice-cold lemonade, Chakotay had gotten out of the pool, and she was vaguely disappointed to see he'd put his shirt back on. He was looking through his padds, trying to find the one he wanted, and he was preoccupied as he thanked her when she handed him a glass. She took a sip of her own, humming quietly in delight.
"This is so good," she told him.
He grinned at her. "Thanks."
"You did not make this."
"Kathryn, when have you known me to use a replicator when I didn't have to?" he asked, eyebrow raised.
"Point taken." It was true; he was a wonderful chef, and he rarely depended on replicators for a finished product, preferring to replicate the ingredients and mix them together himself. Which reminds me, she thought, remembering what she'd seen in the kitchen. "It looked as if you had preparations for dinner keeping cool in there."
Chakotay nodded. "B'Elanna's bringing Miral by tonight, so I'm sure I'll have to put up with Tom, too, and I think they're bringing Harry along. I thought we'd have salad and pasta. It's too hot for anything heavier."
"Sounds good," she said, and then she blushed when she realized how that sounded. "Uh, that is... I mean... oh Lord, I just invited myself to dinner at your house, didn't I? My mother would be appalled."
He placed a finger on her lips, silencing her, and she did her best to hide her shiver. "You're always invited, Kathryn."
Kathryn smiled, taking his hand from her lips and briefly squeezing it. "Thank you."
They lapsed into silence again, and Kathryn returned her attention to her abysmally boring report. She struggled through a few more paragraphs, and then she gave up. She watched Chakotay out of the corner of her eye, and when he glanced up, staring out at the desert as he thought, she called his name.
"Hmm?" he asked, turning to her.
"Do you ever miss it?"
"Voyager?" he asked her, and when she nodded, he gazed up at the patio roof, absently scratching his jaw. He sighed. "I miss... not being constantly around the people I've come to think of as my family. I miss hearing Tom and Harry banter on the bridge, and I miss hearing you tease Tuvok. Occasionally, when my notes are disorganized and my students are misbehaving, I miss the structure." He grinned. "I sort of miss not having to decide what to wear every morning. But do I miss being constantly under the threat of attack from who knows what direction? Wrestling with duty rosters and agonizing over disciplinary measures? No, not really. And I'm here, I'm home, doing something that I love, and I'm sitting here with my best friend, and I don't have to call her Captain."
Best friend, Kathryn thought discontentedly as she sipped at her lemonade. She sighed. "I miss it. I miss all of it. The crew, the first contacts, the replicator rations, the battles, all of it. I miss everything. My ship. I miss Voyager, Chakotay. I'm bored."
He nodded thoughtfully. "I thought you might be getting there. I'd wondered how long it would take you to get sick of desk jockey duty."
"About six months," she said, and when he looked at her questioningly, she sighed again. "Yes, I know I was promoted nine months ago. I've been miserable the last three months."
Chakotay shook his head. "Oh, Kathryn. You don't have to be. Do something else, ask for a ship -- "
"It wouldn't be the same. It would never be the same. Even if I somehow convinced them to give me Voyager, it... I think I would be even more miserable."
"You're right, it wouldn't be the same, but you can do something else. Teach, go back to science, there are a million things you can do, Kathryn. Don't be unhappy. You've worked so hard, you deserve happiness."
She nodded, her enthusiasm growing. Everything seemed so simple, so obvious when she discussed it with him, and she knew that that was what she missed most of all. "I think I'll talk to Owen," she told Chakotay. "See if he's got any suggestions."
"Good idea."
"I'm glad you're happy," she told him. "I'm glad one of us is."
Chakotay shook his head. "Content." He glanced at her, and his eyes flashed briefly, fire that was gone before she even truly registered it. "True happiness is very hard to come by."
"Very true," she sighed. "All right," she said, tossing the report she'd been reading into her bag, "Captain Lester can go hang. I'm going to read my novel." Chakotay was grinning at her again, dimples flashing, and she narrowed her eyes at him. "What?"
"Is it one of the ones B'Ela lent you?"
"She told you?"
"Only that she'd recommended a couple of titles to you."
"I swear, that girl..."
Chakotay laughed and went back to his notes. Kathryn lost herself in her story, which -- she had to admit -- was quite shallow but very entertaining. A hot breeze began to blow, softly at first, but it steadily picked up. When a gust blew through hard enough to make the two empty deck chairs rattle, she glanced up. The sagebrush out beyond the edge of Chakotay's property was waving, and tumbleweed danced merrily by.
"The wind's sure picked up," she said.
"Yes," he answered, and she turned to look sharply at him when she heard the worried tone in his voice. He was peering up at the sky, where dark, bruise-colored clouds had begun to appear, seemingly out of nowhere. "I think we should get inside," he said, gathering up his padds.
"Chakotay?"
"It's monsoon season, Kathryn. Come on, get your stuff."
He gathered his padds and picked up his empty glass, heading for the house, and she picked up her own glass and hefted her bag onto her shoulder. As soon as she was in, he shut the door firmly behind her and approached an interface panel next to the large window that looked out onto the backyard. He tapped a couple of keys, and a forcefield shimmered into existence over the pool, even as another one snapped into place around the patio to protect the furniture.
"If there's a forcefield around the patio, how come we had to come inside?" she asked, even as rain began sheeting down, big fat drops that thwacked off the windows and the roof. He glanced at her sheepishly.
"I guess we would have been safe out there, but the storms sometimes get violent, and I just feel safer inside the house."
He took her glass and carried it, along with his, into the kitchen, rinsing them and setting them beside the sink. When he came back, Kathryn hadn't moved. She was watching the storm with her arms crossed over her chest. Lightning arced far off in the moody sky, and there was a distant rumble of thunder.
"The storm came out of nowhere," she marveled, and he nodded.
"Yes. And it'll be gone in less than half an hour. They come up quickly from the ocean, and the mountains slow them down so they rage in all their glory for a short while, and then they disappear."
Thunder boomed again, closer this time, and she jumped slightly. "Oh boy," she muttered, so quietly that he barely heard her.
"Are you okay, Kathryn?" he asked concernedly. She tore her gaze from the storm and gave him a halfhearted smile.
"I used to love thunderstorms as a kid," she told him. "They scared the hell out of me, but I loved them. Thought they were so beautiful, so powerful. My father used to yell at me for standing outside in the rain and watching -- and it wasn't smart of me, lightning could have hit me at any time. But now..."
"What changed?" His voice was soft, and she bit her lip, wondering if she could tell him. She took a deep breath.
"New Earth," she whispered, and his eyes widened. "I was terrified, Chakotay. I was out there in that storm, and I thought I was going to die out there, all alone, and I realized that if I did, you'd be alone. And then our only way home -- my whole world, my reason for going on -- was literally crashing down around my ears, and I knew it was over. I knew I'd never see Earth again, never see my mom or my sister -- "
Her voice broke, and he gathered her into his arms, holding her and soothing her when thunder cracked overhead loud enough to rattle the dishes in his cabinets.
"Thank you, Chakotay," she told him, her voice muffled by his chest. "Thank you so much, for now, and for then. I was so scared, and so devastated, and you held me, and you felt so safe and you told me we'd get through it, I remember that. I was so grateful that you didn't try to tell me everything was okay, because I knew it wasn't, but you told me we'd get through it, and you sounded so determined, and I needed that."
His arms tightened around her, holding her closer to him, and he sighed. "I was terrified too, Kathryn," he told her. "I'm sure you'd rather believe that I was strong, that nothing could shake me, but when I knew you were out there, I was so afraid. Afraid that you'd be hurt, and I would have had no idea what to do. Afraid that you'd be killed and you'd leave me there alone. And then I found you, and I got you inside, and the storm was destroying everything and you were so... shaken. And I had to be the strong one, and I wasn't used to that, not with you. You were always so... imperturbable, and I didn't know what to do. All I knew was that I would do anything, say anything to protect you, to make you feel safe. To make you feel... loved." His arms tightened around her even further, and though she couldn't breathe, she reveled in it, clinging to him. "Because you were," he whispered.
"Were," she murmured sadly, stiffening when he froze and she realized she'd said it aloud. She tried to pull away from him, but he wouldn't let her. He tilted her head up with his fingertips, and she found herself staring into bright, deep brown pools that reflected love and years of heartache.
"Were. Are. Will be. Always," he told her, and her eyes went wide with surprise.
"Always?" she repeated quietly, and when he nodded, her brow furrowed in confusion. "But... you... Seven..."
He closed his eyes in pain, shaking his head. "I was lonely, Kathryn."
"But after..."
Chakotay grinned wryly. "Surely you've noticed I haven't been dating anyone." His smile turned sad, wistful. "But I know that you have been..."
Kathryn thought with horror of the few dates she'd gone on, set up by her sister or her mother, even Owen once. She'd been bored or miserable, and they'd all ended early, and the only reason she'd gone on them was because she had known that she had no chance with the man she loved. She had never talked about them with Chakotay. "How did you..."
"B'Ela."
"Is that... why haven't you ever said anything, Chakotay?"
"What was I to say? I was supposed to just put my heart out there again and listen to you tell me no one more time? I told you once how I felt, Kathryn, and yes it was years ago, and perhaps it was foolish of me to believe that you might still believe it true, but I was afraid. I had hoped when we started spending time together that you might say something, but you said nothing. So I was content to be your true friend again."
Her heart broke as she thought of the months of wasted time, of them both yearning for the same thing from opposite sides of the dinner table, both too afraid to make the first move or say the first word. They were used to her being the one in control, and her unwillingness and inability to tell him how she felt had hurt them both. Again.
"God! I've been so stupid. We've both been so stupid! We're such idiots! And cowards! How in the world did we ever manage to get ourselves across seventy thousand light years?" She took a breath to continue her rant, and it became a gasp when she felt his lips on hers. It was a quick kiss, designed to stop her, and it did the job. She stared up at him, amazed to see that he was smiling.
"Can we stop being stupid cowards now, Kathryn?"
She slid her hand behind his neck and pulled his head down to hers. One of his hands splayed across her back, pulling her closer to him as he groaned into the kiss, his warm breath skating across her lips. She shivered and his tongue darted into her mouth, lapping at her and tasting her. They lost themselves in each other, neither noticing that the storm had raged itself out, and all was peaceful again.