Time On My Hands 9
Sometimes when I'm holding her in my arms, I feel like I'm holding time.
I look into her sweet little face and I can almost see the years unfolding in front of me. Her first steps. Her first day of school. Her first lost tooth. Her first love – hopefully a long time from now – and her first child, maybe. I can see the future in her face.
But I can also see the past, in a way. I can imagine my parents – my Dad especially – looking at me and seeing the future in my face, too. I think maybe I understand him better now.
Miral is my link in a chain that stretches both backward and forward in ways that I'm only just beginning to appreciate. The other Voyager Dads told me that being a parent changes you. I guess I've become a little sentimental.
I'm walking the corridors of the Biddle Hotel with Miral in my arms. She's been fussy ever since we got here. Probably too much excitement in the air.
We've all just gotten back from an early dinner at a little Tibetan restaurant in Bloomington. It was supposed to be a dinner for the whole crew – Janeway reserved the entire restaurant for the evening – but the Sagan is late. We waited as long as we could, but Harry contacted me and said they'd been delayed by a few hours and we should all go on.
Dinner was great. Lots of talking, lots of laughing. Tuvok and Seven commented on the pungency of the food to the Doc – I mean "Joe." Naomi Wildman parked herself next to the Admiral and peppered her with questions about Tibet. Vorik and Tuvok's daughter-in-law talked shop. It almost felt like the family was whole again, except for the absence of Chakotay and Harry and the others. They'll be the last to arrive tonight. A handful of people will beam in tomorrow, but most of us are staying here in the hotel together.
The Biddle Hotel is housed in one end of the Indiana Memorial Union in the heart of the IU campus. It's a sprawling old limestone building that takes up most of a city block. The hotel is just one function, though; the building is really here for the kids and is packed to the gills with shops, restaurants, study spaces, common rooms and a three-story recreation center. It's surrounded by gardens and cobblestone paths leading to all the academic halls. The opposite end of the building leads directly off campus and onto Kirkwood Avenue, lined on both sides with off-campus hangouts.
We have most of the hotel reserved for the weekend, and tomorrow the Alumni Hall for the party and the Frangipani Room for the kids to play in. Both facilities are right in this building. Janeway's Mom still teaches here and helped to arrange it all for us.
Admiral Janeway gave us a short tour of the campus today before we all walked down to the restaurant together. She's proud of this place. You can see it. In the Delta Quadrant when she talked about "home," I think maybe this campus and this town were the places she imagined, as much as the house she grew up in.
I bet we made quite a showing for the undergrads, a bunch of old folks trooping through the campus with kids and families in tow. I chuckle just thinking about it.
Miral hears and wriggles against me, poor thing. Beaming over here from San Francisco and then sitting in a restaurant for dinner has disrupted her routine. I shift her onto my shoulder. Babies like routines. I don't, much, but I'm learning. All part of being a Dad.
In front of our suite I stop pacing and listen. The shower is running. I'm glad to hear it; B'Elanna's been pretty tense waiting for the Sagan to arrive and ought to relax a little. She and Chakotay have talked a few times and have straightened things out between them. But she's anxious to see him all the same.
Everybody's anxious to see all of them.
Admiral Janeway hung around to talk for a while after dinner, waiting to see if they'd get here. She finally begged off at around 1930 hours and went back to her house. Said she had work to do so she could have the whole weekend free to enjoy with us.
That was about half an hour ago. I've been pacing on and off ever since, thinking that the Sagan might not even make it tonight.
But when the lift at the end of the hall opens and Chakotay steps out, I wonder if maybe Janeway beamed back to HQ to see if she could hurry things along.
He looks a hell of a lot better than he did the last time I talked to him, although still a little tense. He's out of uniform, with a toddler in his arms. We both take a couple steps toward each other and stop suddenly, recognizing the similarity in our poses. Maybe we're seeing each other clearly for the first time.
Sekaya steps out of the lift beside him with a bag in each hand. She looks a lot like Chakotay, but more serene, somehow, and incredibly beautiful. Behind her there's a gray-haired giant of a man who must be Chakotay's brother-in-law. He's half a head taller than Chakotay and so broad he makes the Captain look slight by comparison. But he's also got the darkest, softest eyes I've ever seen, and he's holding a little girl in his arms with a gentleness that's completely at odds with his sheer size. He steps out to flank Chakotay on the other side, and I realize something: This is what Chakotay was fighting for when he left Starfleet and joined the Maquis, these people and others like them who couldn't defend themselves.
Yeah, I really do see him clearly now.
"Paris," he says. He shifts the boy higher on his shoulder and reaches out to touch Miral. I turn her around to face him. "Hey, Miral," he whispers. "You're so big."
"That's right," I say. "Last time you saw her she was still pretty squashed. Crazy, isn't it?"
He nods. "I've been gone too long," he says.
He has, but I don't want to get into that right now. I'm just glad they're all finally here. As the lift closes behind them, I nod toward the kid on his shoulder. "Who've you got there?"
He turns partway so I can see the boy's face. The kid is barely awake, with his thumb stuck in his mouth. "This is my nephew, the Little Warrior," Chakotay says.
Sekaya reaches out and ruffles the boy's hair. "Little Mouse," she corrects.
The big man steps forward. "His name is Paka," he says, very softly but firmly. Sekaya and Chakotay exchange chagrined glances. I feel like I'm getting a glimpse of an old but affectionate dispute among these people. I can't help but smile.
Sekaya drops the bags and holds out her hand to me. "It is good to meet you in person, Tom" she says. "My brother speaks of you often."
I shake her hand. She turns to the big man. "This is my husband, Koham."
I hold out my hand to him a little reluctantly, but he's just as gentle with me as he is with the kid. "Tom Paris," I say. "And who is this one?"
The little girl, who must be about six, lifts her head and looks right at me with piercing brown eyes – same as her Mother's, same as her Uncle's. "Calusa," she says. "No nickname."
I raise my eyebrows. "Right," I say solemnly. "I'll remember that."
The lift opens again and Harry and Libby spill out, with Philica and Susan and the others right behind them. As they all move to find their rooms, I stick my head back into our suite to find B'Elanna pulling on sweats and a T-shirt. "They're here," I say. She grins and grabs a PADD off the table behind her.
Without looking at the PADD in my pocket, I know what she's done. She's sent the pre-arranged signal – "They're here. Come on over." – to the entire crew list.
There are introductions all around, then, as people spill from their rooms and into the corridor. Tuvok shows his granddaughter off to old Hoke, who has brought his own grandkids from Dorvan. Sam and Naomi seem very taken with Calusa and Paka. Mike Ayala's boys, teenagers now, put faces with the names they've heard for the last few months and start asking me about pilot training. Joe and Seven mingle with the crowd hand-in-hand, which earns them a few surprised looks and a lot of happy smiles – and from Chakotay, a hearty handshake and a kiss on the cheek.
Within a few minutes every door on the corridor is blocked open and we're all moving from room to room, hugging, laughing, remembering. This free-floating reunion goes on for at least an hour until around 2100, when the civilians and kids start to head back to their rooms. Pretty soon just a handful of us are left in our sitting room – Chakotay, Tuvok, Harry, Seven, Joe, Mike, Sam and Naomi, B'Elanna and me. Tuvok tells us about his recovery on Vulcan. Mike talks about how strange it was to come home to boys who weren't boys anymore, but young men. B'Elanna and I talk about our work on Voyager and with the shuttle design teams. Joe recounts – in excruciating legal detail – his fight for individual rights. Harry hints that he and Libby will have an announcement tomorrow and Chakotay replicates a bottle of champagne. Sam, with Naomi snuggled into her side, mentions her position at HQ. Naomi brags a little bit about her continuing work as the Admiral's Assistant, and we all smile.
It's a mellow and happy conversation. There's such a calmness in the room that Miral finally goes to sleep and I'm able to lay her in her crib. When I return I find myself grinning from ear to ear, just taking it all in. Prixin is a celebration of family, and this is mine.
I only wish Janeway were here to see it.
"The Admiral is going to be so happy to see you," I say, glancing around until my eyes fall on Chakotay. "All of you."
And then Naomi pipes up for the first time in at least half an hour. I swear I thought she was asleep. "Especially Captain Chakotay," she says. Everybody in the room, including Tuvok, turns to stare at Naomi. She just shrugs and yawns. "She's been talking about it for days."
We all turn as one to gape at Chakotay, who is sitting stiffly in the corner of the sofa, staring at his hands.
A silence falls over the room. I take a quick look around and I can see that every single person wants to say something. But no one does. In fact, I'm not sure anyone even breathes.
Chakotay finally looks up and gives his head a little shake. "Maybe," he sighs.
B'Elanna lets out an exasperated growl.
Everybody takes the sound for the warning shot that it is and suddenly has someplace else to be. They all stand up from where they're sitting or sprawling, mutter hasty good-nights, and scatter. The room clears in about fifteen seconds flat, until only B'Elanna and Chakotay and I are left.
Chakotay looks sheepish.
"So?" B'Elanna says. "Are you going to tell us what's eating you, or do we have to drag it out of you?"
His face twists into a grimace. "I'm still not sure I should be here."
B'Elanna gives another little growl. "Quit wallowing, Chakotay. It's not attractive."
"But -"
"Stop it," she orders, and he shuts his mouth. She leans toward him. "Prixin is about family. You're family. You belong here as much as the rest of us."
"Family," he repeats. "I've made a pretty poor effort of it lately."
"You sure have," B'Elanna says sharply, and I'm about to give her a warning look for being so hard on him when, in a typically B'Elanna show of fierce tenderness, she slides onto the sofa next to him and takes his hand. "But you're here now," she says, "and you can start making things right. Family forgives. You taught me that."
"There's a lot to forgive," he says softly. "Maybe too much."
It's impossible to pretend we don't know who he's talking about. "But she wanted you here," I say.
B'Elanna smiles. "She sent a damn ship for you."
He looks up with that arrogant little smirk, the one that drove me crazy every time he assigned me to an Away Team with Tuvok – or Neelix. "I thought that was for all of us," he says.
"It was, but it was mostly for you and you know it."
After a second he sobers and nods. He knows. We all do.
We sit quietly for a few minutes. Chakotay weaves his fingers with B'Elanna's. "I've missed you," he says, and looks up at me. "All of you."
"We missed you too, Chakotay," I say, surprising myself.
B'Elanna elbows him in the ribs. "Don't ever do it again."
"I won't."
Miral fusses in the next room, and Chakotay quickly starts to rise, as if jolted from a deep sleep. "I should let you get to bed," he says.
B'Elanna pulls him back down beside her. "It's going to be okay," she says, looking into his eyes. "You know that, right?"
"I hope so."
"Don't worry so much, Chakotay." She kisses him on the cheek before she darts into the bedroom to check on Miral.
Chakotay and I both stand up and head for the door. "Big day tomorrow," I say, trying to lighten the mood a little. He nods in agreement but doesn't say anything.
In the open doorway he turns back to me. I can see he's got something to say but can't quite find the right words. He shuffles his feet and sticks his chin out at me. "I can't believe I'm asking you this, Paris," he says, "but I need to know: Are we okay?"
It takes me a second to figure out the "we" he's talking about is him and me. But then I remember the way he held my wife's hand in his just now, and I realize that Koham and I have something in common: We're both married to Chaktoay's beloved little sisters. And because Chakotay loves B'Elanna so much, and she loves me, it's important to him that everything is all right between us. We're family, after all.
"You hurt her pretty bad when you took off," I say.
His shoulders slump. "I know."
"But you're here now, and that's what matters. 'Family forgives.' She's forgiven you. And because she has, so have I."
He takes a deep breath. "Thanks, Tom," he says, and I think they're the two most heartfelt words he's ever said to me.
He starts to go, but I surprise myself again by reaching out and grabbing his shoulder. He turns back, wide-eyed. "There's something else I need to say, Chakotay."
He inclines his head. "Go on."
Now it's my turn to take a deep breath. I'm about to tell him something that I've only shared with B'Elanna. But I think it's important that he hears this – and not just so he understands how much I care for her. "I realized something when I fell in love with B'Elanna," I say. "Something about...people. See, every person is really the sum of all the different people we've ever been. In my case, that's the daredevil kid who always had a black eye. The Starfleet brat who buried himself in ancient pop culture to escape a disappointed Dad. The awkward teenager who couldn't figure out why girls liked him but didn't love him. The cocky pilot who made a bad mistake and was desperate to make up for it." I tap my chest. "They're all in here. They're all me. Get it?"
He narrows his eyes at me. He's not sure where I'm going with this. This next part is going to be corny, but I hope he of all people will understand. "When B'Elanna looks into my eyes and tells me she loves me, all of those old Toms, and all the ones to come...they all hear that. They know she's talking to them, too. Not just one of them, not just the one she sees at that moment. All of them. They know they're finally accepted and loved. And nothing that hurt them then can hurt them anymore. They are...soothed."
I watch his face and I can almost see him looking inward, thinking back to the angry man with nothing to lose who materialized on Voyager's Bridge...the silent and serious Starfleet Cadet...the contrary kid who left home at fifteen and didn't look back until it was too late...and a hundred other Chakotays I can't even imagine, probably right back to a toddler a lot like Paka. He finally lets out a long breath and nods.
"That's the secret, Chakotay," I say. "That's it. When you find that person, the one who soothes all those damaged people inside you, the one who tells you it's all right and really means it...you have to hold on tight and not let go. And you have to hope like hell you're that person for her, too."
He starts to say something, stops himself and shakes his head. "Out there we each had one role, Tom. Those were the only people we could be if we wanted to get you all home in one piece. And I'm afraid...maybe we lost the others somewhere along the way. The damaged ones and the undamaged ones both. All of them."
"I don't think you ever lose them, Chakotay. Maybe you just...forget them for a while. Although in some cases that's not so bad. You should probably forget the guy who can't pilot a shuttle to save his ass." He chuckles. "And here in the Alpha Quadrant, you've had the time and space to find them all again, to figure out who you really are and who you can be together."
He turns away from me and leans his forearm against the wall at shoulder height, his fist clenched. When he speaks again, his voice is so soft I almost don't hear him. "I miss her so much sometimes I can't breathe," he says. "But I don't even know what to say to her."
"There are two things you should never stop yourself from saying, Chakotay, because it'll only lead to regret." He doesn't turn around. "The first is 'I'm sorry.'"
He nods. "What's the other one?"
"I think you know."
He hesitates, then nods again but says nothing.
We stand quietly for a minute. I watch him try to rub the tension out of his neck and wish Janeway would have come back tonight after all, just to put the poor guy out of his misery. "I just want my friend back," he murmurs. "Anything else will be more than I deserve."
"But not too much to hope for," I say. He turns to me with a startled expression. I shrug. "She did send a ship for you, after all."
He tugs on his earlobe and grins and suddenly everything feels almost normal again. I punch him on the shoulder. "You don't have anything to worry about except getting some sleep. I have a feeling you're going to need to be rested up for tomorrow."
"Watch it, Paris," he growls, but the old familiar mischief is back in his eyes, and I laugh.
"There's the Chakotay we've all missed so much."
He mutters his good-night and heads off down the corridor.
I turn back into the suite to find B'Elanna standing there in the dark, Miral in her arms, tears in her eyes. "You heard?" I ask.
She nods. "Good work, Helmboy," she says, and moves into me.
"Do you think he listened?"
"I hope so. Kahless, I hope so."
I'm about to reach back to unblock the door and let it close up for the night, when I hear the lift open at the end of the hall. B'Elanna and I look at each other. There's only one person it could be. We both stick our heads out the door to peek.
And there she is, stepping out of the lift just as Chakotay whirls around to see who's there.
It's a moment I don't think I'll ever forget.
They move toward each other in the middle of the corridor. Chakotay's body curls to hers and she rises in reply, her chin tilted up and her hands clasped in front of her chest. I'm reminded of all the times early on when I turned around on the Bridge to find them like this, physically trying to close the gap between their two chairs while they chatted about nothing. I haven't seen them together in eight months, and I haven't seen them align themselves this way for much longer. Now, though, it seems like the most natural thing in the Universe. Two people so attuned to one other that they automatically shift to an easy, comfortable fit.
But then they each pull up short with maybe half a meter of space between them – as if their first instinct is to embrace, but then they both hesitate at the last second. B'Elanna and I both sigh in frustration, and their heads twist around to look at us. Janeway's expression is startled; Chakotay's is pained. They look...disappointed.
Maybe this isn't going to be as easy as we all thought.
I give them a half-hearted wave, draw B'Elanna back into the room before she can say anything, and let the door slide shut behind me.
"Damn," B'Elanna whispers. "What the hell's the matter with them?"
"They think too much." We both flop down on the couch. "Probably a hard habit to break, since it kept us all alive for seven years."
"I just wish..." she begins, but leaves the thought unfinished and sighs.
"I know." I put my arm around my wife's shoulders. "So do I. But we've all done everything we can. It's up to them now."
B'Elanna nods and leans against me. I reach out and lay my hand on our daughter's beautiful little head. It's late, but I'm content to just sit here and enjoy being near the two people I love most in all the Universe, savoring this time together and looking forward to tomorrow.
-END-
Note: Yeah, that was mean. :-)
Two chapters to go, and they should come fairly quickly as they are already mostly written. And yes, they are J/C all the way.
LW