A/N: I've come to find that J/C authors are expected to have an interpretation of Resolutions and a post-Endgame fix. This is my attempt at the latter, written to fit snug and cozy between canon and Kirsten Beyer's 'Isabo's Shirt'. Thanks to Bratling for the angsty little bunny that got me off my butt to give this a shot.
"You're going to get home tomorrow," she had told me. "I know in my bones that this will work. And when you get there, what you choose to do with the rest of your life is your business. But please, grant an old woman a favor."
I nodded my agreement in advance, then listened intently. I fully planned do whatever she was about to ask of me. Then she summoned some kind of strength. Not the strength to engage in battle I had seen in her eyes countless times before. Not the strength of a diplomat, willing to give and take for her cause. This was an inner, personal strength that I believed she must have been grappling to find for a very long time.
"Don't ask me to come to your wedding again, Chakotay. Don't ask me to officiate or stand up for you either. I can't….I won't…."
She trailed off and then shook her head, unable or unwilling to finish the thought. She looked into my eyes again and I felt like she was looking into my soul.
"If you really have to have me at your wedding to get married, you need to ask yourself why and maybe reconsider just who you're marrying."
Then, before I could respond and having clearly made her peace, she left.
As she had predicted, we made it home the very next day. And the only price, it seemed, was her life. Her life and a future that I expected none of us really wanted to live in.
With all of the excitement surrounding our homecoming - the festivities and the debriefings and the trying to find out where we all belong in the wake of life-altering, instantaneous change - I had little opportunity to consider what she had told me. But during a few quiet times her words echoed in my mind. "Don't ask me again," she had said. Clearly, in her lifetime I had committed myself to someone else and it hurt her deeply. More than likely she was the one who had officiated the occasion. If Tom had set up a poll on the matter, I would have bet my replicator rations that she never took the time to tell her Chakotay exactly what that official duty had cost her. For that I was sorry. For the both of them.
Many evenings after she came to talk to me, while lying in a bed that didn't quite yet feel like my own, I wondered just how similar our timelines were. Was everything exactly the same in her life leading up to the point that she intercepted us? Or were there subtle differences? Those were questions I would never have the answer to. But I had to assume that the Admiral and 'her' Chakotay had once carried on the same conversation that Kathryn and I had just months before.
For about the twentieth time during the course of our evening, I could feel Kathryn's gaze upon me as I stared out the window only half hearing her words. She was content enough to let my distance ride, heaven knows she'd had her fair share of distracted meals with me during the course of the last seven years. But what she suspected was true. My thoughts were light-years away.
"What is it?" She finally asked me, unable to ignore this growing distance between us any further. I suppose she had made all of the one-sided small talk that she was going to for one night.
I broke my study of the stars that whizzed by and focused back to her. She was on the couch, and I in the adjacent armchair; our usual post-dinner configuration.
"You seem somewhere else tonight," she said and reached for the wine bottle. "Everything okay?"
I cleared my throat and did my best to appear normal again. "Yes. Fine. I'm fine." And then I held out my empty glass for her to refill.
She raised an eyebrow. "Now I know there's something wrong," she replied coyly.
Dammit, she always could see right through me, I thought. I consulted the amber liquid in my glass, hoping it might hold some kind of answer for me to relay that wouldn't be as difficult as the truth.
"Its…I'm just…."
She saw my discomfort and interrupted me. "Look, I've no right to pry as long as whatever it is doesn't involve the safety of this crew, but I hope that if you've got something personal going on you feel like you can tell me."
Her words filled me with a kind of approval and warmth that I didn't know I longed to hear. "You're right. Of course," I admitted. Then I took a centering breath. Honesty. When in doubt, honesty, I reminded myself.
"I think I'm starting to develop feelings for someone." I found the words as they fell off of my tongue were as much of an admission to myself as it was to her.
"Really?" She asked, setting her glass down. I remember the hollow sound of it hitting the tabletop.
"Yes." I lifted my eyes to hers, unsure of what I would find there. Would it be anger? Probably not. A hint of jealousy perhaps? After all, that was what I wanted. Or her support and friendship, which is what I expected. These years of trust that we had worked so hard to build and fought so much harder to keep. In the end I had decided to tell her before acting on my feelings because I didn't want to damage that trust. Beyond that I wasn't sure why I felt the need to confess these things to a woman who had the potential to be so much more to me than just a superior officer.
There were many layers to this, I knew. I wanted a clear conscious. Her permission, maybe, though of course we both knew I didn't need it. Somewhere inside I half-hoped she would stop me, though I knew her better than that. The truth was that I really did have feelings for someone else, even if they paled in comparison to my feelings for her. But I really did want more from this one life of mine. And at that specific point I felt like I might just be running out of time. My fiftieth birthday was fast approaching and though I've never been a vain man, I'd be lying if I said it had been on my mind.
"You're thinking of pursuing these feelings?" Her words broke my lengthy ruminations. I realized she must have paused for a while as well.
"Yes."
Kathryn put on a genuine smile. "I think that's wonderful Chakotay." I heard her say, though I suspected that if she were to be perfectly honest with herself later, she would realize that a rather large part of her heart had just been torn at.
"Really?" I asked. I knew that she would support me no matter what, but I thought she might just have something else to say. I remembered all of those private moments, standing a little too close, lingering a little too long. Her hand grazing my shoulder, my chest….
"Absolutely," she solidified. And I believed her, because the truth was she would be happy for me.
"I don't even know if she'd be interested…."
"Why wouldn't she be?" Kathryn leaned forward from her spot on the couch and put her hand on my knee. "Whoever she is, if she's caught your eye she'd be lucky to have you," she said. And I truly knew she meant it.
I looked down at Kathryn's hand on me. Another touch that lingered a bit too long. Conflict and confusion coursed through my thoughts. "You seem really okay with this."
She pulled back finally. "Why wouldn't I be?
I stopped to think a moment. She truly was an incredible woman. Strong, beautiful, compassionate. She loved as she leaded, with everything she had. "I don't know, I guess I assumed…." I looked up at her. She knew what I was thinking, of that I was sure.
"Yes, well," she cleared her throat. "In another time perhaps." She regained her drink and took a thoughtful sip.
"You write it off pretty easily."
She stared back at me, clearly injured by the intent of my accusation. "Hardly." Her voice was suddenly as strong and serious as a Romulan disruptor.
With that word I found all of the confirmation I needed. She had given further consideration to the two of us following the days, months, shit it had been years since our one and only kiss in holographic Venice. Since a misinterpreted birthday gift had caused us both to admit that we wanted more. Since she had rather definitively put those possibilities to rest just as quickly as they surfaced. I often wondered if she rethought that evening, and now I knew.
"We've been here before," she reminded. "It wouldn't be appropriate."
"I understand."
Kathryn smiled at me in gratitude. "I know you do. But, you….you're not bound by anything. Least of all me."
If you only knew, I thought. Again, as if we were of one mind I was convinced she surely did know how difficult this was. I knew how hard it would have been for me had our roles been reversed.
"Whoever this woman is, she deserves a real chance. She deserves all of you."
What I refused to say was that I didn't honestly believe that anyone else would ever truly have all of me. But maybe that was a theory I needed to test. Could it be possible to put unattainable things aside and move on? Was there a difference between loving someone who was quite impossible and being in love with someone else who was able?
"Chakotay….." She said softly and brought me back.
"I would wait, you know that," I pledged, giving her one last chance.
"I do, but don't. I don't need…."
"My happiness on your shoulders?" I finished for her.
She nodded. "We may still yet have a very long journey ahead of us."
"But then we may not," I countered, not quite sure why I was arguing against myself.
"There's no need for you to waste more time if you think there's a chance for something else in your life."
She was right of course. "It may not work out," I said, trying to ease the heartache that I knew would interrupt her at a later hour. I knew that despite her words, if nothing else, that my ability to move on and pursue completion in this way would make her think about those things she wouldn't allow herself to have.
"It may. I hope it does," she said genuinely and she patted me once again on the knee. Her touch was different now. And at this point I realized I may actually be doing her a favor by lifting another burden from her. The burden of my happiness.
"Thank you."
Kathryn shook her head. "No, thank you. I appreciate you telling me."
"I didn't want you to find out, you know. Scuttlebutt."
"Or when you walk into the mess hall with her on your arm?" She smiled genuinely back at me again and I was very grateful that she wasn't asking for a name. This was easier to talk about when it was just a hypothetical.
"Or that. If that."
"You're being awfully negative, this should be exciting for you," she chided. Then realization struck her. "Did you tell me this so I would talk you about of it?"
"I'm not sure," I paused, looking at her again and I knew she saw through me with a clarity that revealed all. "I know what I want. But…"
I could see the lump rise in her throat. "I'm sorry," she offered. And surely she was, for both of us.
"Don't be. I understand. And I appreciate your support."
"You always have it, you know that."
I let go of a heavy breath and with that exhale something else left me. A bit of the grief over what couldn't be, at least not now. And a bit of the anxiety for keeping up the pretense. When I breathed in again I found it oddly refreshing. Maybe I could, I should have a new start after all.
"It's getting late," I realized. "I'm going to head out."
She stood to see me to the door and we walked close, but not as close as we might have before. At the exit I paused one last time and turned back to her. Again she read my thoughts, 'we could have,' my eyes told her.
She cocked her head slightly with a smile. 'We may still yet,' she replied silently. "Go be happy Chakotay. I wish you nothing but the best." And the words felt like all that were left of her whole heart. I took them as the gift that they were. Then I walked out a door that I knew would never fully close behind me.
She had loved me once, and she just let me go.
The past that I had left in Kathryn's quarters that night changed me in ways I couldn't have anticipated. The three weeks I had spent with Seven – before we got home - were some of the most exhilarating of my life. I did what Kathryn said. I gave Seven as much of me as I possibly could. I was happy and I know it showed on my face. It had been an eternity since I'd made someone else happy in a way that they could admit to and reciprocate. It felt good. Really, really good. Whenever we were together, and we were together often, I felt the anticipation both physical and emotional of a new relationship. It was the kind of eagerness that put butterflies where my stomach should have been. I was determined to give 'us' a chance. To see the relationship just as far as it would go. If it ended in a wedding, so be it. I simply wouldn't invite Kathryn.
Once we made it home, my relationship with Seven remained as fresh and exciting as it was on Voyager, but now we had more places to explore what it meant to be 'us.' It took almost a month for the hoopla surrounding Voyager's return to die down and in that busy time I had almost forgotten about my conversation with the Admiral. By then the parties and debriefings were over, most of the crew had returned to be with family and friends while awaiting reassignment or career changes. I, having no real family on Earth other than my former crewmates, had busied myself with being in the fresh air and continuing my relationship with Seven. She was an eager student of what Earth had to teach her and I was glad to be her favorite instructor. We had gone hiking in the Arizona desert, watched the ocean from the top of the Ferris Wheel at Santa Monica Pier, and spent a long weekend in New York City. Seeing these sights through her eyes made them feel new again, and these old eyes needed something new.
It was clear skies at the beginning of the day in San Francisco when I found myself waiting for Kathryn in Golden Gate Park. As I waited, I considered Starfleet Headquarters' most impressive buildings not too far in the distance. It had been a long time since I first stepped foot in those buildings as a cadet, a lifetime ago, it seemed. Kathryn had asked me to meet her, why exactly I wasn't sure. But then, I never did need a reason to do what she asked.
I could hear familiar, confident steps for quite a while before I stood from my bench and turned to see her face. At seeing her, I suddenly regretted that I had to make this reunion brief due to plans with Seven later that morning. But then, she probably had other places to be as well.
She looked as she always had, I thought. Proud, poised, sure. But she was also more at ease. And I knew it was that the weight of one-hundred and fifty lives had been lifted from her shoulders. She approached me with a smile and greeted me with a warm embrace.
"I see you're wearing something new," I commented, pointing to her Admiral rank insignia which I knew had been recently bestowed to her. I felt very informal in my civilian clothing.
She shrugged and touched the bars on her collar. "Still getting used to them," she admitted. "It's good to see you." She ran a familiar hand down my arm.
I nodded but couldn't take my eyes off of her new uniform which peeked through her long, black Starfleet coat. It's funny how you get so used to seeing someone dressed a certain way and when they change it's almost as if it's a completely different person standing in front of you. "I still can't quite believe you're giving up the center seat," I told her.
She frowned slightly. "In a way, neither can I." Then she raised her chin to me. "But it makes me feel better knowing that Voyager will be in good hands."
"Oh?" I asked. "I didn't think her new Captain had been decided yet."
I saw her dig deep into her jacket pocket and retrieve a box that she then handed to me. I opened it, and inside were four shiny gold pips. "These belong to you now, I promise, they've got a lot of life left in them," she said with a smile.
I ran my finger over them and then closed the box. I wasn't at all surprised by the proposition before me. It wasn't as if I had been kept completely in the dark on the matter. But until the offer was made I didn't allow myself to really think too far into the future. "I don't know," I said. "I haven't decided what I'm going to do next."
She nodded. "I understand. And I wish I could give you more time. But I need an answer by tomorrow."
And of course, I understood too. If I couldn't make this decision in a day, a year wouldn't have made up my mind. I thanked her for the opportunity and told her that she would hear from me. The words felt distant and professional. The space between us was palpable, and I felt a pang of longing for the past that I just couldn't shake.
I sat in the park for a while after she left, meditating quietly on my decision until a group of children came through with their toys to play. It was the first time since returning home that I had watched children. They moved with careless abandon and freedom and joy. I envied them and mirrored in their youth I felt a distorted reflection of my own age.
How did I get here? I wondered. To the corner of the galaxy and back again and with very little to show for it except my age and four used pips in a box. I looked down to consider the weight of responsibility in my hands and when I looked up there was a boy of about eight years old standing before me.
"Hello sir," he said, cocking his head to the side and eyeing me curiously.
"Hi there," I replied.
"Do I know you?" he asked, continuing to look at my face closely, examining my tattoo.
I shook my head. "No, I don't think so."
I saw his eyes widen when he made the connection. "You were on that Voyager ship, weren't you? I've seen you on the news."
I took a deep breath and released it slowly. "That's right," I replied. The thought suddenly struck me that when we were first lost this child was probably just being born.
"I've never left Earth," he told me. "What was it like? Being so far away?"
I considered his question. "It was…." but I found that there was no simple way to tell him all of the things I had experienced and fought for, the things I had missed and yearned and almost died for. And so I said, "It was an adventure."
He seemed satisfied with my response and turned and went back to play, but not before bidding me "welcome home."
Home. And then I realized. Nothing about this place felt like home.
Seven met me at my Starfleet-bequeathed apartment in lower San Francisco promptly at 1100 hours. When I saw her, it was like a breath of fresh air had just wafted into my stagnant life.
"Where to?" I asked, having been previously assured that she was planning this date.
"Our destination is a surprise," she told me with a coy smile.
"Sounds like fun," I replied. And I was genuinely happy for the diversion. The pips I had been temporarily gifted remained on my dining table and that's exactly where they - and all thought about the decision I had to make regarding them - would stay until after I enjoyed time with my girlfriend.
We walked arm-in-arm to the closest transporter station, discussing events that had transpired since we had seen each other last. Seven had moved in with her Aunt Irene and they were getting along well. She was due to start work at Starfleet Headquarters soon, at which point I expected our time together would be significantly reduced and spread farther between.
Seven discreetly relayed our destination to the transporter operator and we stepped onto the pad. Being whisked away by a transporter to places unknown always felt like having a blind-fold tied around ones eyes, a both thrilling and terrifying experience. "No peeking," she told me with a smile.
When my vision was returned to me and I placed our surroundings, my stomach lurched. Venice. We were in Venice.
"Do you know where we are?" she asked me with eager anticipation. Clearly she thought this was a wonderful surprise.
I nodded, trying desperately to hide my discomfort.
"We're not far," Seven told me. "Just a few blocks this way." Her blue dress swayed easily with her hips, evening coolness blowing through her soft hair.
She took my hand and I tried, very hard, to swallow the horrible feeling that was seeping its way into my bones. As we traversed the cobblestone streets and narrow alleys, every step felt as if I was being led toward a gallows.
The maître d' of the small café Seven had chosen for us bid us welcome and placed us at a corner table with a view of the canal. I pulled out her chair but found that I was unable to sit. Seven looked up at me curiously. "Is everything okay?"
"No," I said.
She raised her eyebrow at me. "Would you prefer a different table?"
I swallowed. My mouth was so dry it hurt. "Seven, why did you bring me here?"
"This establishment was suggested to me, by a friend."
"Which friend?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"Admiral Janeway, we spoke of it just before she died. She implied that this was one of your favorite places."
I nodded, partially relieved that there was no deception on 'my' Kathryn's part.
"I'm very sorry Seven. But I can't be here, not right now. Please, don't ask me to explain."
She stood from her seat and nodded but her mood had clearly soured ever-so-slightly. "Of course, what would you like to do instead?"
"Maybe we could take a walk?"
And that's just what we did.
The waters of the Grand Canal as they lapped gently beneath the Pont degli Scalzi had a mesmerizing effect and I felt an immediate sense of calm watching them from above. Holding hands, we made our way across the 'bridge of bare feet' as it was aptly named for the unshod monks who resided at a church on the northern shore. All of this was news to me of course, having never actually been in Italy before. But Seven seemed to have enough information on the city and culture for the both of us. I was happy to listen to her spout facts and minutia while we strolled. It helped to keep my mind off of the holographic version of this town I had brought Kathryn to years ago - off of a nearly identical café where I had given my heart to someone who had promptly handed it right back to me.
Seven was patient about my sudden distance. She had every right to be upset at my having abruptly changed her plans without explanation, but she wasn't. I found myself rather angry with the Admiral at the moment Seven addressed me again. She must have known what coming to Venice with another woman would do to me. But it's hard to be angry with a dead friend.
"You haven't said a word since we left the café."
I sighed. "I'm sorry Seven, I've got some things on my mind."
"I apologize that bringing you here was a mistake, I didn't know…."
"It's not that. This was thoughtful, really. But I have a decision I need to make."
"Anything I can help with?" she asked, placing a gentle hand on my arm. We had reached the other side of the bridge. It was almost dark now, the city lights twinkled across the water and a bright crescent moon illuminated most everything else.
I looked at her pretty face. So young, and with a kind softness that I had seen develop before my very eyes in the last few months. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt her. Honesty. When in doubt, honesty.
"I saw Kathryn today," I began.
Seven smiled at the mention of her favorite mentor. "How is the Captain?"
"She's an admiral now."
"I wasn't aware that she was being promoted. I will have to call and offer my congratulations."
"It just happened. I'm sure she'd appreciate hearing from you though." I looked down at our reflections in a pool of water that had formed by the side of the canal, between a boat and the stone wall. "She offered me command of Voyager."
I saw Seven's mirrored-self raise an eyebrow. "I see. And did you accept?"
"Not yet."
"You were expecting this, were you not?
"Yes."
"But you are having doubts about your decision?"
"I…. I'm just letting it sink in."
I continued looking down. The ripples over our dimly-lit reflection seemed to magnify my age and simultaneously reduce that of my companion. What was I doing with this woman who was at least twenty years younger than me? All of the opportunities that Earth and home and life had to offer, they were all new to her. But they were very old to me. It wasn't fair.
And so I told her the only thing that I could, honestly and without fear of regret. I told her that she deserved better. She deserved someone who could give her more than I ever could. Someone who would embark on these experiences as the new and refreshing things that they were, knowing I was only able to reminisce about having done them already.
She was gracious to the end, as I knew she would be. The gentle kiss she left on my cheek evaporated as she walked away.
If Seven had taken me anywhere else that evening, things might have turned out differently. Though, I had serious doubts that any future would have ended in a marriage between us as had been alluded to. But as it was, I found the best version of myself looking into those waters. The reflection I found there was of a wiser man than the one I saw in a mirror I gave Kathryn years ago. It reminded me that the only person I wanted to be was the one with a chance to have her by my side; the one with her trust on my collar. This city, it seemed, knew things about me that I barely knew myself.
So in the end it was Venice that saved me. I expect to find myself there again, when we're both ready. It occurs to me that when I do I may have to break the promise I made to an old friend. But somehow, I don't think she'd mind.
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