Disclaimer: "Star Trek: Voyager" and all of the characters are property of Paramount and Gene
Roddenberry's estate.
Author's Note: This story was inspired by the Tim McGraw song "You Don't Love Me Anymore." Some of the
dialouge is stolen from there, but no infringement is intended.
AN2: I know this piece is sort of...condensed. It feels like it wants to be something more, but I wanted some
feedback on this first before I made a decision.
ALMOST LIKE IT USED TO BE
She stood in a separate crowd of people, pressed tightly against a table full of cocktail hors d'ouvres. Another
sip of synthehol slid down her throat as she tried to muster up the courage to speak to him. For a brief
moment, she hadn't even been sure it *was* him. Then, of course, reality had set in and she could no longer
justify the tattoo as a mere coincidence. Even hidden under too long black-gray hair, it was unmistakable.
Finally, she pushed herself away from the cocktails and began making her way through the crowd. Each step
closer made her want to turn and walk the other way. He hadn't seen her, after all. There was no real reason
for her to go over and say anything to him. With all these people around, how would he react? She heard her
name and smiled with half-attention. His voice was still low and calm, after everything.
She tapped him on the shoulder politely, heart racing in her chest. He turned around slowly, the dimples
fading as he looked down into her eyes.
"Have we met somewhere before?" she joked nervously, sipping her drink with a shaking hand.
The smile returned tentatively to his face. There was a brief moment of hesitation on both their parts, and
then his familiar hand was on the small of her back. They walked to a corner, retrieved their coats, and then
began to exit the building.
"Two years," he finally said.
She nodded. "I didn't know you'd been released. Otherwise..."
He shook his head. "You don't have to say it."
*****
They sat drinking coffee now, close to her small fireplace. Reminiscing did wonders on the soul but was
murder on the heart. There were too many away missions they couldn't talk about; one too many late nights
they thought they'd forgotten.
"I tried to call," he began. "I don't know how many letters I typed, only to erase them." He paused. "There
was so much I had to say."
She watched his eyes and saw everything he wasn't saying. Then again, there wasn't much left to say. She
had tried not to cry as he boarded the prisoner transport in Southern Carolina. She had done her best to keep
him free, but Starfleet was a hard mistress. For weeks afterwards, she had felt his arms around her, his lips
on hers. First and last kiss--she would never forget it.
Unconciously, they had moved closer to each other during their stories. Now, knees touching, she felt the need
to relive that kiss, and not taste salt water falling from her eyes. Her hand on his thigh startled both of them.
There was still some things she had to say.
*****
The hard, frozen rain on her bedroom window woke her up. She turned over, expecting to find him there.
Instead, she found cold sheets and an unused pillow.
"Chakotay?" she asked fearfully, sitting up in bed.
His shadow, once again full dressed, turned towards her slowly.
"I have to go, Kathryn. My transport will be leaving earlier because of the weather."
She pulled the sheets closer around her body and sighed softly. She knew this had to happen; he couldn't stay.
She wouldn't let him. Yet...
"I wish you didn't have to go."
She saw the sad smile even in the dark.
"For a minute, Kathryn, I forgot that you don't love me anymore."
Roddenberry's estate.
Author's Note: This story was inspired by the Tim McGraw song "You Don't Love Me Anymore." Some of the
dialouge is stolen from there, but no infringement is intended.
AN2: I know this piece is sort of...condensed. It feels like it wants to be something more, but I wanted some
feedback on this first before I made a decision.
ALMOST LIKE IT USED TO BE
She stood in a separate crowd of people, pressed tightly against a table full of cocktail hors d'ouvres. Another
sip of synthehol slid down her throat as she tried to muster up the courage to speak to him. For a brief
moment, she hadn't even been sure it *was* him. Then, of course, reality had set in and she could no longer
justify the tattoo as a mere coincidence. Even hidden under too long black-gray hair, it was unmistakable.
Finally, she pushed herself away from the cocktails and began making her way through the crowd. Each step
closer made her want to turn and walk the other way. He hadn't seen her, after all. There was no real reason
for her to go over and say anything to him. With all these people around, how would he react? She heard her
name and smiled with half-attention. His voice was still low and calm, after everything.
She tapped him on the shoulder politely, heart racing in her chest. He turned around slowly, the dimples
fading as he looked down into her eyes.
"Have we met somewhere before?" she joked nervously, sipping her drink with a shaking hand.
The smile returned tentatively to his face. There was a brief moment of hesitation on both their parts, and
then his familiar hand was on the small of her back. They walked to a corner, retrieved their coats, and then
began to exit the building.
"Two years," he finally said.
She nodded. "I didn't know you'd been released. Otherwise..."
He shook his head. "You don't have to say it."
*****
They sat drinking coffee now, close to her small fireplace. Reminiscing did wonders on the soul but was
murder on the heart. There were too many away missions they couldn't talk about; one too many late nights
they thought they'd forgotten.
"I tried to call," he began. "I don't know how many letters I typed, only to erase them." He paused. "There
was so much I had to say."
She watched his eyes and saw everything he wasn't saying. Then again, there wasn't much left to say. She
had tried not to cry as he boarded the prisoner transport in Southern Carolina. She had done her best to keep
him free, but Starfleet was a hard mistress. For weeks afterwards, she had felt his arms around her, his lips
on hers. First and last kiss--she would never forget it.
Unconciously, they had moved closer to each other during their stories. Now, knees touching, she felt the need
to relive that kiss, and not taste salt water falling from her eyes. Her hand on his thigh startled both of them.
There was still some things she had to say.
*****
The hard, frozen rain on her bedroom window woke her up. She turned over, expecting to find him there.
Instead, she found cold sheets and an unused pillow.
"Chakotay?" she asked fearfully, sitting up in bed.
His shadow, once again full dressed, turned towards her slowly.
"I have to go, Kathryn. My transport will be leaving earlier because of the weather."
She pulled the sheets closer around her body and sighed softly. She knew this had to happen; he couldn't stay.
She wouldn't let him. Yet...
"I wish you didn't have to go."
She saw the sad smile even in the dark.
"For a minute, Kathryn, I forgot that you don't love me anymore."
