DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc and Viacom. The story contents are the creation and property of Djinn and are copyright (c) 2002 by Djinn. This story is Rated PG-13.
Morning Light
by Djinn
Chakotay looked down at her
as she slept, all tangled hair and sprawled limbs. Not quite the picture most
people had of Admiral Kathryn Janeway...not the one that he'd had of her
either, until early this morning when she'd fallen asleep exhausted and
thoroughly sated. He'd been watching her since she'd surrendered to sleep,
smiling softly as he memorized how she looked when she dreamed, when she rolled
over. She snored slightly, and drooled, at times she ground her teeth. She was
only human, and he was glad to see it. Somehow, over the years, he'd begun to
believe otherwise. Begun to believe she was some mythological creature, out of
reach, out of his reach.
He yawned, tired to the bone.
He'd wanted to sleep, to curl next to her and close his eyes, but some stronger—or
was it weaker?—part of himself had insisted he stay
awake and watch her. Because this moment had been long in coming, and he wasn't
sure what would happen when she woke up. He really didn't want her to wake up. He
thought he could be happy if she just lay next to him forever, if he were given
the rest of his life to study her, to touch her gently without waking her. If
the morning light would never come.
She moved restlessly, and he
realized she was close to waking. Sighing, he slid down in the bed, moved close
to her, and pulled her against him. She felt so good, her skin touching his,
her cooler body against his warmth. She made a sleepy noise, and turned over,
burrowing into his chest. He felt his throat catch, as he wondered if she had
any idea who she was in bed with. For all he knew, this was a common occurrence
for her. Maybe she had a different man every day? He laughed softly at the
thought. It didn't sound like something she'd do. Even if he didn't know this
Kathryn Janeway. Hadn't known her for years now. The woman he'd made love to
all night was a mystery to him, an enigma. A sparkling prize that he'd wanted
to win for over a decade. And now he'd won. Only he didn't know if the prize
would last, or if it would disintegrate in the morning light.
He thought of Seven, gone her
own way now and making a fine go of it from what she said in her messages. Their
coming together had been quiet, and their parting had been even quieter. He
loved Seven, expected he always would. But what he felt for her had never been
the desperate love he'd had for his captain. And Seven had known it. But
neither of them had cared, and it had not been what had caused them to part. Life
had done that. Life and time and the way people had of changing in different
rhythms. Seven had been ready to fly at the very time he wanted to put down
roots. One of them had to change, and neither was willing to do it. So they'd pulled away, agreed it was time to move on. Their
breakup was amicable, almost passionless. She still commed him every week to
let him know how she was doing. He still laughed at the funny way she said
things, teased her when she got too serious. He was her best friend, and she
was damned close to being that for him. Would be that for him...but for this
woman he held in his arms right now. His best friend. That role had been taken
long before Seven arrived on the scene.
He looked down and realized
that Kathryn was staring up at him. Her eyes were unreadable. "Good
morning," he said carefully, trying to stop his arms from tightening
around her reflexively. He already expected her to pull away.
She didn't. Just continued to
stare at him, her blue eyes calm, almost serene. Finally, she gave him the
cocky half-grin that he loved. "Good morning. You look like you're going
to throw up. Any particular reason?"
He swallowed hard and
realized he did indeed feel like he was going to throw up. Panic, fear...he'd
never had so much hinge on a morning before. He didn't like it. Didn't like
being a slave to his emotions again. He'd actually gone out of his way to avoid
this kind of thing since Seven left. This kind of thing? Who was he trying to
kid? This kind of thing didn't happen for him unless Kathryn was near, and she
was never near. He'd given up hope on her ever being near him again. Sure, they
were both Starfleet now. Their paths crossed all the time, but she'd been so
careful every time he'd run into her before. Hello and goodbye said with
careful precision. A hand extended for no longer than was strictly necessary. His
Kathryn was gone, this cold Admiral was a stranger and one that he didn't think
he liked very much. When he'd run into her this time, he'd hardly expected
things to be any different. Would never in a million years have thought they'd
end up at lunch, talking and laughing and stretching the time until it was late
in the evening and the sun had gone down and they were rushing back to his
hotel room.
"Chakotay?" Her
voice brought him back to the present.
"Sorry." He tried
to grin and saw her eyes soften at his expression. "I've missed you,"
he said, choosing honesty, even though he knew she might run from it.
She touched his face gently. "I've
missed you too."
He noticed she hadn't pulled
away, seemed in fact to be pressed closer against him. "Last night
was..." He wasn't sure if he could do it justice.
She nodded. "Yes, it
was. And long overdue." She suddenly pulled away, lay on her back and
stretched languorously.
Chakotay found himself
mesmerized by the way the sheet stretched tautly over her curves. The place
where her arm joined her shoulder was suddenly the most beautiful thing in the
world, replaced a moment later by the curve of her chin as she turned back to
him.
She took one look at him and
burst out laughing. "God, Chakotay. Lighten up. You look as though you're
afraid I'm going to sneak off while you go to the bathroom."
He looked away.
"You are afraid
I'm going to sneak off." She was silent for a long moment, and he turned
to look at her. "Why would I do that?"
"Because this was a
mistake."
"It was?"
"No," he hurried to
say. "But you think so."
"I do?" She looked
confused.
"Don't you?"
"Well, I didn't until
you started talking."
"I'll shut up now,"
he said quickly.
She sighed. "We were
doing so well yesterday."
"That's because I wasn't
afraid of losing you yesterday." He reached out and moved a piece of hair
out of her eyes. "I'd already lost you, it was
easy to be light."
She just nodded. "But
we're not light now, are we?"
He shook his head.
"Why? Why can't we be
light?" She rolled onto her side. "Why is it always life or death
with you?"
"With me?"
"Yes."
"Why is it never life
and death with you?"
"Because this isn't life
and death."
"Maybe not for
you." He hated how needy he sounded and pushed himself out of the bed. As
he walked to the bathroom, he called back to her, "I don't even like this
part of me, Kathryn. I imagine you don't either. Go if you want."
He turned the water on so he
wouldn't be able to hear the sound of her leaving. When he opened the door a
few minutes later, she pushed past him. "I thought you'd never get
done."
Her tone was untroubled, and
he was suddenly immensely grateful. He went to the replicator and ordered
coffee for them both, then turned and handed her a mug as she came out of the
bathroom.
It took him a moment to
realize she hadn't gotten dressed. Then he realized he was in the same state as
well. It should have felt strange; standing here naked in the cool morning air
drinking hotel coffee with the woman he'd wanted for too long. It should have,
but it didn't. Maybe there was something to be said for lightness?
"This coffee is
terrible," she finally said.
He nodded. "You'd think
they'd work harder at that."
"You would." She
put the mug down, then reached for his and took it from him. "Come back to
bed," she said, the purr in her voice unfamiliar but enticing, as she
pulled him gently with her.
He followed unresisting. As
she pushed him down onto the bed, he stared up at her.
"Stop it," she
said.
"Stop what?"
"Looking at me like I'm
a damn hallucination." She moved on top of him, her body brushing his even
as she chided him.
"I'm sorry."
"Well quit that
too." She leaned down and kissed him.
He lost himself in the
sensation of holding her, of loving her. As his body took over, he found he
could let go, be light. Not worry.
But as soon as they lay
together, their bodies cooling down together, he felt the tightness inside his
chest begin again. "Why?" he asked, his words interrupting the
silence.
"Why what?"
"Why now? Why
here?"
"Us you mean? Why are we
together now?"
He nodded. She shot him a
look, as if asking why he couldn't just accept. But he had to give her credit. She
didn't give him a flip answer, seemed to consider the question.
"Because I love
you," she finally said.
It was not the answer he
expected. "You do?"
She nodded,
her face puzzled. "You knew that, surely?" As she studied his
expression, her own clouded. "You had to know that?"
"I didn't know
that."
"I've loved you since
New Earth, Chakotay. Possibly before then. How could you not know?"
"You never said."
"I shouldn't have had to."
She seemed angry.
He stroked her face and
waited until she settled some before answering. "Maybe not. But it would
have helped." He grinned ruefully at her. "We're different, Kathryn. This
morning is a perfect example. You're light and I'm anything but. Maybe our love
is the same way, or at least the way we express it. If yours was there all the
time, as you say, it was in the air, where I'd never look for it. Heavy things
don't hover, they land, they root. I was too busy looking down to see anything
so light."
She smiled grudgingly. "You
always did have a way with words."
"You mean I talk too
much?"
"Sometimes." She
moved slowly and rolled so that her chest was against his, sighing softly as he
drew her nearer. "I'm sorry then. For not telling you. I guess it explains
a lot...about what went wrong with us. I understood one thing. You understood
another. Neither of us understood a damn thing."
"I thought you didn't
want me." His tone was matter of fact.
"I didn't. I
couldn't." She looked at his raised eyebrow and smiled. "I wouldn't
let myself."
"Ah, the truth."
She shifted slightly. "Truth
is so heavy."
"Yes. It is."
"Why is it?"
He shrugged. "Maybe
because you're with me. If you want light, I may not be the best person."
She smiled again. "You're
the right person."
"I annoy you."
"Yes, at times you
do." She moved her hand down, began to do things to him that made his
reasoning ability recede. "And I annoy you."
"Not at this moment, you
don't."
She laughed. "That was
pretty light, Chakotay. Think you could keep that up?"
"Keep what up?" He
knew his grin was wicked.
"The lightness,"
she said, in mock disapproval, even as her eyes glinted with enjoyment of his
humor.
"For how long?" He
closed his eyes and surrendered to the sensation of her touching him.
"For a lifetime?"
He opened his eyes. Reaching
down, he stopped her hand. "Don't joke." His tone was anything but
light. Heavy and harsh, the Chakotay of earlier...the one that didn't joke. He
regretted his words instantly, but found that he couldn't take them back,
didn't want to.
"I'm not joking,"
she said softly.
He stared at her, and their
eyes locked. Hers were placid, but as she stared at him, as he refused to be
teased into a better mood, they turned stormy. "Damn you." she
finally said, pulling away. "Can't anything be easy with you?"
"You always want the
easy way, the quick way, even if it isn't right. Even if it hurts
someone."
"What's that supposed to
mean?"
"You know what it
means."
"If this is about the
Borg, or the Equinox..." She pushed him away.
"I don't give a damn
about the Borg or anything else that happened in the Delta Quadrant. Anything
but us. Would it have killed you?" He took a deep breath and tried to
control the anger swirling around inside him. "Would it have been so hard
to just tell me, to let me in? I loved you, Kathryn. For ten goddamn years. For
seven of them, I was by your side. Loving you, supporting you. Would it have
been so hard to open up?"
She looked stricken. She
rolled onto her side so that her back was facing him. "Yes. It would
have."
"Why?" He stared at
the ceiling, tried not to think of all the times he'd lain sleepless in a
similar pose on Voyager. Usually after some encounter with her. A dinner
that never quite went far enough. A moment on the holodeck that should have
been romantic but wasn't. "Why?" he asked again, his voice coming out
in a whisper.
"Because you would have
made me weak." She seemed to shrink in on herself. "You would have
tied me down. I had to stay free. Had to get us home."
"You got us home."
"But would I have, if
I'd been with you?"
"I can't answer that,
Kathryn. No one can."
She slowly rolled to her
back, then to her other side so that she was facing him. "Then why are we
trying to now?"
He sighed and rolled over so
that he was facing her too. "Because we never even talked about it. You
wouldn't let us talk about it."
"Don't you know
why?"
He shook his head.
She reached out and traced
his tattoo. "Because if we had, then I'd have told you I loved you. And
once you knew that—once you believed that—you'd have never let me go."
He looked down because she
was right.
"You scare me Chakotay. Your
love is so complete. So heavy. I needed to fly. To get us home."
"We could have done it
together."
She shook her head. "Maybe.
Or I might have given up. Might have surrendered to being yours and loving you.
And I couldn't take that chance."
"Getting us home meant
that much?" Even as he asked, he knew the answer was yes.
She looked down. "It
did...until we got here." She inched closer to him. "At first, there
were the moments of triumph, the pride in the crew, the inquiries, the parades,
the ceremonies, the guest lectures on how we did it. It was heady, and easy to
forget what we'd lost in getting home. Then the crew scattered, and we weren't
a family anymore."
He nodded slowly.
She smiled sadly. "I
honestly never knew how much I would miss it. Miss all of the crew. My
family."
He moved closer to her. "Our
family."
She nodded. "Ours. Yes,
ours. And I suddenly wanted there to be an us, Chakotay. But you had moved on. You
were with Seven. The door was closed." She shrugged. "I resigned
myself to that. I moved on. Did well too. Turned down the promotion to admiral
when they first offered it to me. Told them I wanted to earn it like anyone
else, not have it handed to me because I brought their ship home. And I did. I
earned it for what I did here. What I did once I got back."
He nodded. "You did. I
watched the ceremony."
She smiled. "Really?"
He nodded.
She seemed pleased, then her
expression became more serious. "I moved on with my life, Chakotay. I let
you go."
"Yes, I noticed. Every
time we met." He shook his head. "You were cold."
"I had to be. There's no
middle ground with me, Chakotay. You think I'm light, but I'm not. I like to
pretend I am. I laugh, and joke. But inside, it's all or nothing. And since I
couldn't have all, I expected nothing. And gave it right back."
"I'd have given you
all."
She shook her head. "Not
then, you wouldn't have. You were still with Seven."
He looked down. Nodded in
defeat.
"But you're not now. And
I know that. I have my spies." She smiled playfully. "Do you really
think it was an accident I ran into you in the corridor yesterday? That your
afternoon meeting was cancelled and that my calendar was remarkably clear? You
think this"—she touched his naked chest, then her own—"just
happened?"
He stared at her, then slowly
felt a smile spread across his face. "You engineered this?"
She nodded.
"You set this whole
thing up?"
She nodded again.
"Why?"
She smiled then, a gentle,
loving smile. "Because I love you. Because I've always loved you. Because
I don't want to lose you again." She leaned in to kiss him. "Even if
you do annoy the hell out of me a lot of the time."
He laughed and kissed her
hard, pushing her down onto her back, his hands roaming over her skin. As she
moaned, he smiled. "I'll try not to annoy you." He pulled away. "All
or nothing, huh?"
She nodded.
"I want it all, Kathryn.
I'll expect it all. And I'm not sure I believe you can give it."
He expected her to at least
glare at him. Instead, she grinned. The grin was the one that the Kathryn
Janeway he'd first met, first fallen in love with, used to wear. "So it's a dare?"
He nodded. "I'll try to
not be annoying, and you'll have to love me with everything you've got. Deal?"
"Deal." She took
the hand he held out to her, solemnly shook it, then pushed him hard onto his
back. Her hand again moved lower. "Now where was I before you so rudely
interrupted me?"
"Right about there,"
he said as he surrendered to her touch. Watching her, he saw the morning light
hit her hair, turning it copper. She had never looked more beautiful to him. Or
more ethereal, even as her body against his provided more substantial evidence
of her presence.
She kissed him then. He heard
her mumble, "I love you, Chakotay."
"I love you too." He
had never felt more light. It was a good feeling.
FIN