Work Text:
i’m betting you’re the one
“Well, Captain,” the EMH states cheerfully, closing the tricorder flap with a loud click, “it would seem that your prolonged R&R have left you in perfect shape. I see no signs of malnutrition, no chemical imbalance of any kind—now that the virus is completely out of your system, I’m giving you a clean bill of health, and clearing you for duty. Any questions?”
“One, actually,” she hops off the biobed in a manner that’s probably not befitting a Starfleet captain, but she’s spent several weeks out of uniform and, no matter how good it feels to be back in her element, it’s going to take a while to forget about being this other person, with a completely different set of rules in place. “And I have absolutely no idea how to phrase it, so forgive me in advance for being blunt. I don’t know about Commander Chakotay, but I found it peculiar not to have any contraceptive boosters included in the med-pack you sent down to the planet. Why did you forego it?”
“Ah,” the hologram’s face falls visibly; she thinks he’d probably blush if his programming allowed it. “I hate to point fingers, Captain, but that suggestion came from Lieutenant Commander Tuvok. He supported it with a fairly logical argument regarding traditional Vulcan philosophy, and—“
“I am aware of what the Vulcan beliefs entail, Doctor.” Although I’d never think Tuvok would use them against me, she doesn’t add, though the sentiment is probably clearly written on her face.
–
She leaves Tuvok in charge of the bridge (Chakotay’s still in his office, where he’s been hiding for most of the ten hours they’ve been back on Voyager) and barricades herself in the ready room with a pitcher of coffee and a plateful of caramel brownies. She figures she’d got more than enough rations saved up, and some comfort food is in order, especially given the way her head hurts at the moment. It’s been weeks since she’d subjected herself to her signature up-do, and—here’s that unwelcome thought again—everything inside her rebels against the restriction.
Strange: she’d wanted nothing more than to come back to Voyager, but now that she’s here all she can think of are Talaxians tomatoes and boat schematics.
She wanders around the room and a leisurely pace, touching a bunch of familiar objects before settling on picking up the holoimage of Mark and Molly, covered with a solid layer of dust. Somehow, this is very fitting: the way her life in the Alpha Quadrant is slowly fading and pulling away. Oh, she’s never going to stop looking for a shortcut home, but her personal reasons behind it are changing, the subtle evolution of priorities happening almost without her knowledge. Is she really going to sacrifice living in the present for a future that may never happen?
She remembers where she’d first heard the expression, and laughs bitterly at herself.
So clueless, Kathryn. So completely clueless.
She thinks about Tuvok’s decision; about the way the Vulcan society developed after the destruction of their home planet, with multiple bonding mates for each individual, and traditional mating rituals taking place more often than before, to keep the bloodlines expanding, the families growing. It’s not enough to give yourself to just one person in order to fulfill one’s obligations, to thread a meaningful path of one’s life, the elders would say. A family is more than two individuals and their offspring. A family is a community within itself.
Still, choosing a new mate is a slow, deliberate process, something that cannot be taken lightly, or thrown away after a time: you need to fully accept the person you let into your life.
Tuvok has known her for years, and he found that being with Chakotay would make her a better person, better Kathryn—if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have said anything to the Doctor, and allowed him to prepare a standard issue contraceptive for her. She wonders how that would have influenced her behavior: would she have given in to the moment and allowed the sweet pull of gravity to push her into Chakotay’s arms once he’d told her is angry warrior story? It would have been easier somehow, knowing that, in the long run, they could avoid some of the consequences.
But to do so whilst knowing she could find herself carrying his child, without having asked about his boosters beforehand, without having discussed anything at all? That was something the scientist in Kathryn refused to allow, not without accumulating a great deal of reliable data. Research takes time.
She doesn’t have that excuse now: only the awareness of her best friend’s intentions, and the turmoil within herself, begging to be quieted down.
It’s time to quit stalling, and start telling her own story, she decides, and taps her commbadge. “Janeway to Chakotay.”
There’s a momentary pause—she hopes he hasn’t pulled so far away from her to stop answering her comms—before she hears his voice, and breathes out in soft relief. “Chakotay here, Captain. What can I do for you?”
“Are you still in your office? Would you mind terribly if I stopped by to discuss something?”
“You don’t need to invite yourself over to check in on my work, Captain.” The slight tilt of humor in his voice is almost completely masked by professionalism, and Kathryn finds that she doesn’t appreciate this change in quality.
“Actually, what I’m hoping to talk to you about isn’t entirely work-related.”
It’s Chakotay’s turn to let out a small, relieved sigh, and Kathryn smiles, putting the holoimage away, face-down, and heading for the door even before she hears him say, “By all means, Kathryn—you’re always welcome here.”
She crosses the bridge, nodding at Tuvok as she passes—noticing Tom and Harry’s smiles grow a little wider as they figure out her trajectory—and activates the chime at Chakotay’s office doors that slide open instantly.
“Captain,” he says, eyes flicking towards the bridge staff, “please, come in.”
–
She cannot settle: not on the sofa running along the viewport, not in the chair in front of Chakotay’s desk—not until he pushes away from it with his own chair, and beckons her closer. Kathryn perches herself on the edge of the desk, her fingers turning white from the strength of her self-imposed grip. She hears Chakotay chuckle and frowns at him, her anxiety held somewhat at bay. “I’m not sure where to start,” she admits, holding his gaze.
“Whatever makes most sense to you, Kathryn,” he encourages gently, his expression open and curious: she likes that about him, that peacefulness combined with a need to explore, to test the boundaries of the known universe.
If she’s indeed the person responsible for Chakotay finding his peace, she must have done something good.
Hopefully, what she does next wouldn’t make it worse. “I spoke to the Doctor earlier today.”
Chakotay nods, having gone through the same checkup ritual himself. “Anything I should know about?”
There’s no gentle way in which to put it, so she might as well come out with it already. “I learnt that Tuvok had ordered him to withhold my contraceptive boosters from the med-pack I’d been sent when they left us on New Earth.”
Chakotay blinks and looks down, the tips of his ears turning pink. “I… see. What did you do when you found out?”
“I didn’t take the shot, if that’s what you’re asking.”
His head whips up, and Kathryn clearly sees the sparkle of hope in his eyes. “No?”
She takes a deep, steadying breath. “Chakotay, what would have happened to us if Voyager didn’t come back when she did?”
Something else flickers in his gaze, something she’s been afraid of seeing for the longest time: but not anymore. “I think we both know the answer to that question, Kathryn.”
She nods, because the really was no other way their future could have unfolded from that point. “Yes, we do. And what about now?”
Chakotay shakes his head slowly, holding her gaze. “It’s your choice, Kathryn. You were the one who said… You care about the crew first. About what they think—what they feel.”
“I suppose that we did find out about their feelings towards both of us from the way they’d planned and executed our ‘rescue.’ And, more importantly, we know the senior staff’s opinion. I was worried that—never mind. The decision became somewhat easier for me when I found out about Tuvok’s plot.”
“Well, I suppose if Tuvok thinks it’s alright for you to—“
“That’s not about it, and you know it,” she interrupts, leaning forward and putting a hand over one of his, their fingers tangling together in the most natural manner. “It’s about—Chakotay, when we were hiding from the Vidiians, and the ship went out of phase, the other Captain Janeway sacrificed herself and her crew to protect us. A version of ourselves died together, so that we could stay alive. I had neither the time nor the opportunity to consider that fact, but the way I see it, the question is—what do we do with this chance? What happens now? This isn’t some sort of a paradise where we’re the only two people in existence, with no obligations towards anyone else, no responsibilities of any kind. This is Voyager: and you know how obsessed I can become when it comes to finding a better way home, and taking care of the crew. I needed to know there was someone other than you and me backing this up, willing to take the risk with me. Can you accept that? Can you… would you be willing to…”
“I already told you, Kathryn,” he says softly, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze; she’s happy to see the beginnings of a smile tug at the corners of his lips. “Your needs come first to me.”
“Thank you,” she replies simply, sliding off the desk and standing between his legs to bring herself closer to him, the softness of his gaze as captivating as it’s been eighty-something hours ago in the quiet evening on a planet she’s already starting to miss. “I promise I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t regret it, Chakotay—but I think we should start by establishing some…”
“Might I make a suggestion?” She swallows the end of her impromptu speech and nods, intrigued. “We tried talking about rules and parameters once before, and we both know how that turned out.” At her trademark eyebrow raise, he smiles, making her want to trace each dimple with her fingertips. “I have no more ‘ancient legends’ to appease you with, so I’d hoped we could do something else instead.”
She could play dumb and ask what he means, but they’re way past that point. Not only eighty-something hours: days, weeks, perhaps months too late (if she’s being entirely honest with herself): so Kathryn throws all caution to the wind and reaches out to touch Chakotay’s jaw, just as he tugs at their joined hands and pulls her into his lap.
The kiss is slow and deliberate, full of gentle curiosity and a need to learn and recognize one another. She knows now that, even without Tuvok’s peculiar blessing, she would have ended up in this exact situation eventually: although knowing herself, probably not for many years yet (she considers this extra time a bonus, a reward received in advance), but it would have been absolutely unavoidable.
Because when Chakotay touches her, she melts: not like wax, but like an iron bar, about to be forged into its final shape.
She doesn’t believe in soul mates, or any sort of love-related destiny: but she cannot deny that this man is who she’s been looking—waiting—hoping for longer than she can remember.
Still, despite both of them coming up from the kiss breathless, flushed and grinning like love-struck teenagers, her worrying mind cannot help but look for ways this could go terribly wrong. “What if you change your mind, though? What if in, say, four or five years, you meet some Delta Quadrant beauty—“ she thinks back to Tom’s collection of 20th century movies, “—blonde and shapely and with large… blue eyes? I wouldn’t take kindly to that, you know.”
Chakotay doesn’t seem to be particularly concerned with that possibility. “You’re overthinking this, Kathryn. First of all, my chances of running into such a woman are less than slim: and second, I’ve already encountered a particularly lovely pair of blue eyes, and they’re all I ever want to see.”
She rolls her eyes at the pun, her exasperated sigh changing quality as Chakotay nips at the underside of her jaw. Temporarily unable to scold him verbally, she tugs at his hair, eliciting a (not an overly sad) groan. “If you think you’re going to be able to end all our discussions this way—“
“I wouldn’t dare attempt it for ship business,” he promises, nudging her temple with his nose, “but when we’re like this…”
“Keep on trying,” she allows him graciously, and relaxes into his embrace, breathing in the scent of his skin. “You might be on to something.”
“I certainly hope so.” Normally she would tell him off for overt cheekiness, but with the way her skin tingles beneath her uniform wherever Chakotay’s touching her she thinks she might let it slide this one time. She pulls away a little, enough to release the catch on Chakotay’s rank bar, and smiles as she feels his fingers play with the pips on her turtleneck.
“Why do I feel like a mutineer?” he chuckles dryly, and Kathryn covers his fingers with hers, deftly removing the insignia.
“A hidden fantasy, perhaps?”
“Oh, I can assure you I’ve plenty of those.”
Her jacket is half-way off her shoulders by the time she remembers where exactly they are. “I still think we should at least agree on some off-limits areas of the ship. Neither this office nor my ready room seem particularly appropriate for—“
“And I suppose the bridge is out of the question, too?”
She gapes at him, blood pounding violently in her ears. “The bridge?”
“I must confess that I’ve given the upper level railing a fair amount of thought.”
Her jaw drops and she punches his shoulder, standing up from his lap before she forgets all about appropriateness and lets him fulfill that particular fantasy, and a few others for good measure. “You’re absolutely—“
He quickly pulls her back against his chest, and kisses her hair in a most tender manner. “Couldn’t you at least reserve the judgment until we get back to my quarters?…”
–
“Amazing,” she tells him a few hours later, when they’re sprawled across the floor of his living area and trying to catch their breaths.
“Impossible,” she amends a few months later, after he’s finally apologized for making a professional argument personal.
“Too patient for your own good,” she adds after a while, once her shaky alliance with the Borg and its consequences play out to the end.
She’s never lost for words when it comes to telling Chakotay what she thinks of him—and, thankfully, neither is he.
At least not until another year later—after months of frustration and weeks of therapeutic injections (on his part)—when the Doctor looks up from the scan and says, beaming, “Congratulations, Captain. Commander.”
They find themselves rendered completely speechless for a while: until the dark, familiar quiet of their shared quarters, where he traces patterns on her abdomen with the tip of his tongue, and she tells him another legend: a brand new one.
“There once was a warrior princess, much beloved by all of her tribe…”
Because the best thing about legends, Kathryn and Chakotay agree enthusiastically a few months later, is that they sometimes come true.
/end