Confession
A follow-up to "Lean In"
The first week after resuming their duty, Chakotay took Kathryn to a small café in San Francisco that had been one of his favorite places to sit and read. They stayed there late into the night, talking about everything. When he dropped her off at her quarters, she nervously checked the corridor in both directions before allowing him a short, but sweet, kiss goodnight.
The second week, he surprised her with a rose just as she was finishing up her work for the day in her ready room. Then, he offered her his elbow, and took her for a moonlit sail on Lake George. They did a good deal less talking as they had on their first date. The goodnight kiss she gave him before disappearing into her quarters that evening was a little less guarded, and held much more longing.
The third week was Christmas, which began with a traditional Catholic candlelight Mass at midnight on the holodeck. The program was actually for Lt. Commander Eelo Talia, whose family—with the exception of her Bajoran mother and aunt—was Catholic. Lieutenant Harry Kim had created the program as a gift for her, and she made the event open for anyone on board who wished to participate.
When Kathryn entered the holodeck, she gasped as she took in the sight of St. Mary's Cathedral. The only times she'd been inside the real chapel, which was located just off-base in San Francisco, were for the funerals of Starfleet officers who had been members of the church. But, on this night, with Christmas decorations hung and the gentle glow of candlelight reflecting off of the darkened stained-glass windows, it seemed like an entirely different place. She felt a gentle squeeze of her hand and realized that she had stopped in the middle of the aisle to stare up at the architecture of the room.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" came Chakotay's voice quietly from beside her. "Harry did a really great job for having only been here once."
She swallowed to ease the dryness in her throat, and nodded, coming back to herself. "Yes, he did. Let's find a seat before we cause a traffic jam." When they were seated comfortably in a center pew, Kathryn leaned into him so they could talk quietly. "I take it you've been here before?"
"Quite a few times, actually," he admitted. "Usually for events like weddings and funerals, but I did attend a couple of regular Sunday Mass services."
"Really?"
He nodded. "Once with a friend at the Academy, and once at Talia's grandmother's invitation." Kathryn's eyes widened at him, and he chuckled. "She had stopped by Fayeni's office at the Academy to drop off something for her, and I happened to be there. Fayeni introduced us. We talked, she invited me, and I accepted. It's amazing, really, that Talia and I never crossed paths until I joined the Maquis, as often as I worked with her mother."
Kathryn felt something small and cold needling at the inside of her chest. Jealousy, Kathryn? That's not very becoming on you. It was true that Talia and Chakotay had been a couple when they first arrived on Voyager, but their relationship had fallen apart quickly as they each adjusted to their unexpected new roles on Kathryn's ship. Her gaze wondered up to the front where the young Bajoran sat, wiping tears from her eyes as Harry rubbed comforting circles over her back and whispered something into her ear.
"That's the pew where her family usually sits," Chakotay mumbled. "Generations of Peters have come here to worship, week after week, year after year, regardless of whether they believed or not."
Suddenly, the little shards of jealousy were melted away by the clench of her heart at his explanation—which was swiftly followed by an all-too-familiar wave of guilt. It was she who had caused this pain when she ordered Tuvok to destroy the Caretaker's array. Without that choice, Talia would be on Earth, in Federation custody—at a penal colony, or perhaps on parole by now—able to see her family for Christmas.
For the rest of their lives, simulations of home would be all they could ever have. Not the real thing; never the real thing. Oh, god. Kathryn's lips parted for want of a deeper, sharper intake of breath as her chest tightened. How fitting that she should find herself pondering her guilt on the cusp of her first Christmas Mass. Mea culpa.
As if he had read her mind, Chakotay folded his hand around hers and squeezed tightly. "You did the right thing, Kathryn."
"Did I, Chakotay?" She nodded towards Voyager's trembling counselor several rows up. "Would Talia agree? Or would she rather be at the real St. Mary's, with her family?"
"She does agree. It's why she trusted you so quickly, why she turned away from me and threw herself into bridging the chasm between our crews. You won her loyalty that day, Kathryn, because you proved that you took seriously the values that Starfleet preaches. In her experience, a lot of the higher-ups don't. You should ask her for her side of the story sometime. It's nothing like the bullshit they put in her records."
Feeling the sharp edge in his tone, Kathryn cast him a nervous glance. His eyes met hers and instantly filled with regret. He opened his mouth to apologize, but she touched the tips of her fingers to his lips and shook her head. "It's alright, Chakotay. I know a good bit of it already, and I can't blame her for being bitter. Or you, for that matter. It wasn't handled well at all. None of it was."
Gently, he pressed his lips against her fingers, reveling in the blush that crept into her fair cheeks as the organ started in on the first hymn of the service.
"I was never in love with her," Chakotay murmured into the silence that had fallen between them as they made their way back to Kathryn's quarters, the humming of the turbolift's magnets framing his quiet confession to her like the church organ had framed hers before. He looked over to see her reaction. "I just want you to know that."
Kathryn nodded. "She told me."
His eyebrows jumped. "She did?"
"Two days before we scouted New Earth. Up until then, I assumed you had both been in love with each other, that you simply couldn't make it work with the new command structure and protocols. She told me that she was too angry for love in the Maquis, and that she thought you had been, too. I admit that I didn't entirely believe her until—"
Chakotay nodded knowingly, thinking back to that night on New Earth, the first time he had made any of his feelings for Kathryn known.
"I know that you love her very much, Chakotay. That's always been clear. She loves you, too. But, now that I know you both better, I can tell the difference between that—" she laced her fingers into his "—and this. You don't need to explain yourself to me."
His lips curved upward as his dark brown eyes gazed down into her deep blue ones. The force between them was magnetic, but not here, she told herself, and not tonight.
Outside her door that night, she didn't even check to see if any of the crew were around to catch them. She no longer cared. They were already the talk of the ship—there was no helping that—and this blended crew of theirs always in want of fresh gossip to keep them entertained. So, she lingered on his lips for a long time, tasting him slowly and deliberately, allowing herself to be just another human being in her off-duty hours. "Merry Christmas, Chakotay," she murmured against his lips.
"Merry Christmas, Kathryn," he whispered back.
The following week, she invited him inside.
It seemed that the Delta Quadrant had decided to acknowledge the Terran holiday season, giving Voyager enough of a reprieve to enjoy both Christmas and New Year's. Unfortunately for the crew, Neelix had decided to embrace the holiday spirit by developing yet another use for those damn leola roots—a dreadful batch of hooch. At least, that was the general consensus when he debuted it at the Christmas/Winter Solstice party; by the time New Year's Eve rolled around, he had evidently taken pointers from the crew on how to improve the recipe. Or, perhaps, they were all just getting too used to the Talaxian's odd sense of flavor. Sometimes, it was hard to tell.
The crew toasted the end of 2372 and the beginning of 2373, sharing hugs with friends and kisses with lovers. It wasn't long after zero-hour that they all filtered off to their quarters for sleep or sex, or to prepare for the next duty shift. As usual, Chakotay walked Kathryn to her quarters, and they laughed the entire way to her door.
Then, his lips slanted over hers. He tried to keep it chaste, but he couldn't reign in his desire for her any longer—though, she didn't mind in the least. He had a white-hot passion that ran thick beneath that cool exterior, and she was a sucker for men whose true character ran deep. She hadn't planned to open herself to him like this so soon, but he was so soft and so sure and, damn, that hooch had been strong.
So, she invited him inside.
And, he smiled that beautiful, dimpled smile of his that made her weak in the knees.
And, suddenly, she just couldn't wait anymore.
She backed him against the first wall they came to after crossing the threshold, pressing every potent inch of her body against his and relishing the desire she awoke in him. Everything about him in that moment was even more intoxicating than Neelix's hooch—the way he tasted, the way he smelled, the way his hands moved over her like wildfire, the way his body responded to her. Every single nerve ending in her body tingled with excitement at the prospect of feeling his naked touch. She hadn't felt this way since—
No. She didn't want to think back to other lovers. She didn't want to think at all. The point was, it had been a long time indeed, and her body was more than ready to be touched and loved once again.
But, her brief mental venture away from the moment didn't go unnoticed. "What are you thinking about, Kathryn?" Chakotay asked her, resting his forehead against hers as they both tried to catch their breath.
"I—" She paused. What had she been thinking about? Mark. Justin. Both men from so long ago in her past, yet still so present. She sighed, the rush of the moment dissipating before her like smoke. "It—it's been a while," she confessed, forcing her eyes to meet his even though the blur of him so close made her head swim.
He sighed, too, likely realizing, as she was, that the time still wasn't right for this next step. There was an ache in her pelvis that disagreed, and her limbic system was screaming at her to wrap herself around him, to stop letting guilt get in the way of her pleasure. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders, nails digging into layers of casual clothing, then released.
Not here. Not tonight. Not like this.
She rolled off of him, resting her back and dropping her head against the wall beside him. "I'm sorry," she murmured, closing her eyes to steady herself.
His fingers wove in between hers, and soon he was leading her to the couch to sit, replicating coffee for her and tea for himself before returning to join her. Perching himself on the back of the couch behind her, he gently slid the cardigan away from her shoulders and began working at the ever-tense muscles underneath. "Tell me, Kathryn," he whispered as he grazed her neck and shoulders with warm kisses. "Tell me what you were thinking."
Breathing deep, she made her own confession of loves lost—
—and of a love found.