Star Trek Voyager is the property of Paramount Pictures
Awakenings
Tuvok studied the motionless forms of the Captain and First Officer lying on two biobeds in sickbay. Voyager had been boarded during an attack by a hostile alien species called the Aloran, and the Captain and Commander had been injured. The attack was over now and they were in safe space again, but the command team were still unconscious.
"Are they in a coma, Doctor?"
"No, Tuvok," the Doctor replied. "They are merely asleep."
"Then why can you not wake them?"
"I don't know," he said honestly. "I have never come across anything like this before. Their bodies seem locked in a permanent dream state and until I can understand why, determine what was in the weapon the Aloran fired at them, I won't be able to wake them up."
It was a late winter's night and a thin bed of snow covered the ground. Kathryn Janeway quickly closed her gate and hurried up the narrow path that led to her doorway and fumbled in her pocket for her key. Her hands were almost numb from the cold and she trembled as she put the key in the lock and opened the door. A wave of warmth rushed towards her and she shut the door behind her, shutting out the cold.
She wandered into her living room, put down her bag, and gazed at the fire in the hearth. Every night when she got home there was a fire in the hearth. It had been that way for the past seven years. The first time she had panicked, wondered how it had got there, who had done it. But there was no sign of a break in, no sign of an intruder, and her cat was sleeping contentedly on the rug. She put it down to her own forgetfulness, that she had forgotten to put the fire out completely when she had left the house and it had flared up again. Maybe a bird had dropped some wood down the chimney. Stranger things had happened. The second time she had called the police, told them someone had made a fire in her hearth while she was out. They asked her if anything had been taken, if there had been a forced entry. When she said no, the policeman had just laughed and told her that perhaps she had a ghost.
When it happened for a third time, that's when she put it down to just that, a ghost. She lived in a house that was over three hundred years old, dating back to the turbulent period of the mid seventeenth century. It had been a home to many and legend had it that King Charles I had even stayed in the house as he fled from London to the safety of the country. It was certainly possible it was inhabited by a ghost or two. Strangely, that thought didn't frighten her. If it was a ghost, it was a considerate ghost. Perhaps it was the ghost of a maid servant who had once lived in the house and had always made fires for her master or mistress. Kathryn began to visualize her in her mind, began to create a life story for her ... a poor young Victorian girl who had spent the best years of her life in this house. When circumstance forced her to move on, the house lived on in her heart, and when she died as an old woman, her spirit returned to the place where she had been most happy. That would explain why, in almost 20 years of living at this house, there had never been any ghostly activities before. The ghostly presence was even welcome. It took away some of the loneliness.
Kathryn looked around for her cat now. She usually came to welcome her every night. The only time she hadn't come was when she had hurt her leg in the garden outside and couldn't walk back to the house. Kathryn anxiously went behind the sofa, calling the cat by her name. Nothing. She went into the hallway and started calling there. Nothing. Then she heard a meow. It was faint, and seemed to be coming from upstairs. Kathryn followed the sound up the stairs and realized that Tilly had locked herself inside one of the bedrooms. Kathryn put on the landing light and opened the door and Tilly eagerly came out. Kathryn picked up the cat and held her close.
"How did you get in here? Have you been playing with Meg again?"
Meg was the name she had given the ghost. The cat purred and nestled in her arms. Kathryn looked into the room. It had been a long time since she had been in this room. There were nine bedrooms altogether and only three were used. One was hers and the other two were guest rooms, not that she ever had any guests. She ventured inside and tried the light. To her surprise, it worked. She looked around. The plain white washed walls were dirty and there were cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. She would have to clean the room. Perhaps it was time she cleaned the whole house. It had to be what, ten years since she had done that? She had to visit her vacant rooms more, keep them in good check. She walked into the center of the room and then over to the window. There was nothing to see but trees in the distance. The house was completely secluded. The nearest neighbor was over a mile away. The windows too were dirty and would have to be cleaned. The room was also cold as there was no heating. She shivered and held Tilly closer.
"It's a shame you're not into cleaning, Meg," Kathryn said turning away from the window. "You'd save me a lot of work."
As she left the room, she decided to make a quick inspection of the other vacant rooms while she was at it. Still holding Tilly, she went from room to room. They were all pretty much in the same condition and all but one had working lights. She finally came to the last bedroom. It was down a little corridor, rather removed from the others, and Kathryn only ever ventured down the corridor to hoover the carpet. She rather neglected that area as no one ever went there and she had little time for housekeeping. As she approached the room, she heard movements coming from inside. Her heart began to beat faster. Was it Meg? Would she finally see her? She slowly approached the door and gasped when she saw light seep from under the doorway. She took a deep breath and with a trembling hand, opened the door. She gasped when she saw a man sitting in a chair before a very cozy fire. The man stood up and Kathryn stepped back instinctively. The man was tall, but thin, and had a Native American look about him. His dark skin glowed bronze in the firelight and his hair was black, but graying. He had to be in his forties. He was dressed in black jeans, a white T-shirt, and looked nothing like a ghost.
"It's alright," he said gently, "I'm not going to hurt you."
Kathryn held tight onto Tilly. "Who are you? And what are you doing in my house?"
"My name's Chakotay," he replied. "I've been living here, almost seven years. I had no where else to go. I mean you no harm. You have no reason to fear me."
Kathryn swallowed. "Here? You've been living here, in my house, all this time?"
He nodded.
"I want you to go," she cried. "I want you to leave right now."
"No, please," he begged. "I have no where to go and it's snowing. I'll freeze to death. Please let me stay, Kathryn, please."
Frightened tears welled in her eyes at the sound of her name. "How do you know my name?"
"I saw your mail," he replied. "I never touched it, I..."
Kathryn backed further away from him. "Just get out. Get out of my house."
"Please," he protested.
"If you don't go," Kathryn said, desperately trying to hold back the tears now, "I'll call the police. I'm sure you'll find a prison cell most accommodating."
"There's no need for the police," he said. "I'll go if that's what you want, but not tonight, please. I won't bother you. I've never bothered you. Quite the contrary, I've always tried to help you ... made you fires so you'd be warm when you got home, fixed things. I don't want to hurt you. I'd never hurt anyone. Please. Please just let me stay. You have this great big house to yourself and rooms you never even go in, let alone use, and I have no where. Please. Please don't make me leave tonight."
He looked deep into her eyes and Kathryn saw a kindness and honesty there that allayed some of her fear. "Alright," she said. "You can stay tonight."
He smiled with infinite relief. "Thank you."
Kathryn looked around the room. Apart from a lived in feel, it was all just as she had remembered leaving it. There was a chair, a bed, a wardrobe and a table. There was a quilt on the bed, a pillow, and scattered around the room were other things that had mysteriously gone missing over the years. She swallowed at the knowledge that this man had been through her house, through her belongings, and helped himself.
"I only took what was necessary," he said, reading her thoughts.
Kathryn's eyes fell to an empty plate on the floor beside the chair. He followed her eyes.
"Food too," he said. "I only took a slice or two of bread, a slice of cheese, things I didn't think you would miss."
Kathryn took a deep breath, pity beginning to take the place of fear now. This man had to have been desperate. She studied him again. He was thin, painfully thin.
"When was the last time you ate a proper meal?"
"A long time," he replied.
"Then I'll bring you one."
"There's no need," he said, not wanting to impose at all, wanting to be invisible. "I don't want to trouble you."
"I'm cooking for myself anyway," Kathryn replied. "It won't be any trouble."
He smiled tentatively. "Then thank you."
She almost smiled in return and then left the room.
Just over an hour later, Kathryn brought him a meal of potatoes, lamb, peas, carrots, Yorkshire pudding, gravy, and a bowl of creamed rice for dessert, all served on a tray. She handed the tray to Chakotay and saw the brightness in his eyes fade as he looked at the food.
"Something wrong with it?"
Chakotay looked up at her and when he spoke, his voice was quiet. "I'm a vegetarian." Tears welled in his eyes. "I can't eat this, I'm sorry."
Tears welled in Kathryn's eyes too. This man was starving and yet wouldn't betray his beliefs at what must have been an overwhelming temptation. She took back the tray. "Then I'll have this and you can have my meal. I haven't poured the gravy over mine yet and can easily grill you a veggie burger instead of the lamb."
Chakotay smiled softly. "That would be very kind of you."
Kathryn smiled weakly in return and then turned to go. As she did, he called after her. "May I have the rice?"
Kathryn turned back to him.
"It's nice and hot, you see, and I..." He stopped, uncertain if he was crossing a line.
"Of course," Kathryn replied, holding out the tray to him. "Help yourself."
Chakotay took the bowl of rice and the spoon lying beside it. "Thank you again," he smiled.
He sat on the chair and began to eat it. Kathryn watched him and had to force back the tears. She wasn't afraid of him anymore. She didn't quite understand it, but she felt something else, felt a deep stirring within her soul. "When you've finished that," she said, "come down to the kitchen. We'll eat together. You can tell me how you ended up here."
Kathryn was just putting the burger under the grill when Chakotay appeared. He stood in the doorway, unsure of his next move.
"Please, sit," Kathryn said.
Chakotay sat.
"The burger will be about 10 minutes or so. I've put our meals into the oven to keep warm."
She sat opposite Chakotay and studied him again in the brighter light. His eyes were a deep chocolate color and his skin was smooth and clean. Somehow he had been shaving and she guessed he had used the razors that she had always seemed to misplace. He was very attractive, though she felt he would be more so without the tattoo on his forehead. She thought the tattoo was rather disturbing, made him look thuggish. Chakotay saw her looking at it and saw her unease.
"It's a marking of my people," he said. "I wear it to honor my father, my heritage."
"I see," Kathryn replied. "And where are your people from?"
"America. My family moved here to England when I was a child." He paused. "You have an American accent too."
"Yes," Kathryn replied. "I'm American, from Indiana. I came to this country over twenty years ago. I like it here. I like the culture, the history. That's why I bought this house. It has such a long past." She paused. "So, tell me how you ended up here."
Chakotay lowered his eyes and seemed distinctively uncomfortable. "I lost my family. It was a few years ago now. My father, my mother, my wife and my two daughters. They were all killed in a car accident. I was meant to be driving. We were going to a concert, you see, something we did now and then, all of us. But I got called away to work, a sudden meeting, and my father had to drive instead." A tear ran down his cheek. "I fell apart afterwards. I just couldn't live without them. I took to drinking, lost my job, then my home, and had no money to rent anywhere. It then became a vicious circle. No place to live, no job. No job, no place to live. I just lived from day to day, did what casual work I could, and stayed in shelters, sometimes a hostel, or a bed and breakfast if I had made good money. Over the months I worked my way across the country. It was the only way of getting work. Then I came to this town. It's a small place so I decided to walk through, go someplace bigger. I took the footpath but then it started to rain. I passed this house and saw your barn. I decided to take shelter there. It was clearly unused and I thought I would stay for a day or two, at least until the weather improved. I had enough food with me to last a couple of days. But the weather just got worse and worse and there was no way I could go anywhere. I noticed that the whole time I had been in the barn not one person had come to the house and not one person had left it. I thought the owners had to be away and by now I was hungry.
I forced open one of the windows and came inside. I only wanted food. I had no other intention. But after I had eaten what little food was left in your kitchen, I decided I would use the opportunity to have a bath. It had been so long and I didn't think it would do any harm. I went upstairs, looking for the bathroom, and opened door after door. I realized that half the rooms weren't lived in and instead of staying in the barn, I stayed in a bedroom instead, the one you found me in. It was away from the others but also had a bed. When you returned, I had every intention of leaving. But I wasn't well, had caught a cold, and I just stayed put for a while. I expected you to find me, report me to the police, but you never once came to the room. That's when it occurred to me that I could stay there. I had everything I needed and you had this great big house all to yourself..." He paused. "I'm sorry."
Kathryn wiped away a tear and it was a moment before she could speak. "No," she said quietly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what happened to your family."
"That doesn't justify what I've done. I've always known it was wrong. It was just so easy and I was tired of moving from place to place, belonging no where."
"I can understand that." She paused. "And you were right ... about me having this great big house to myself..." She paused again. "I don't want you to leave tomorrow. I want you to stay until you've sorted yourself out. You can use this as your address, get yourself a job, a home."
More tears welled in Chakotay's eyes. "Thank you."
Kathryn smiled and turned her attention to the grill. "Damn," she said, "the burger's burning." She rushed to her feet and flipped the burger over. "There's one thing I've got to warn you," she said. "I'm a lousy cook."
Chakotay laughed. "Then tomorrow I'll cook for you. I used to be quite good."
"Well," Kathryn smiled, "you certainly can't be any worse."
"Delicious," Kathryn said, taking a mouthful of the pasta dish he had made. "You really are good."
Chakotay smiled. "Glad you like it."
Kathryn tucked into the dish, eating heartily. It was a long time since she had tasted food this good. Chakotay watched her and it warmed his heart to see her enjoy it. She lived a solitary life with few pleasures.
"I've told you all about me," he said, turning to his own food, "what about you? You've told me little about yourself."
"Not much to tell," she said, taking a sip of mineral water.
"I know you're a teacher," he said, "I've seen school books scattered around. But what age do you teach?"
"Six and seven year olds," Kathryn replied. "I love children and one of the reasons I chose that age group was because they are old enough to think for themselves but also retain all the magic of childhood, the belief in the supernatural, in fairies, in witches, and in Father Christmas." She paused. "My Christmas's would be empty without the children."
Chakotay gazed at her sadly. "Why do you live here all alone?"
Kathryn flinched. "Because I like it that way."
"But don't you get lonely? You never have anyone to stay. No friends, no lovers."
"I'm content with that. I don't need anyone."
Chakotay bit his lip, but couldn't hold back the question. "Then why do you cry?"
Kathryn looked up at him. "I beg your pardon?"
"It's an old house. Sounds echo. I've heard you, many times, crying yourself to sleep."
Kathryn uncomfortably looked away from him and stood up, taking her now empty plate over to the sink. "What I do is none of your business."
Chakotay stood up too. "Tell me what troubles you, perhaps I can help."
Kathryn turned to him and spoke sharply. "I said it's none of your business!"
Her anger ebbed at the concern and kindness in his eyes. "I'm sorry," she said. "There's just some things I don't want to talk about. Respect that."
He nodded sadly. "As you wish."
Kathryn hurried up the path to her doorway. Cold wind gushed against her and she was glad to enter the house, leaving it outside. It was so warm inside and there a beautiful smell of cooking in the air. She wandered into the kitchen, as eager to find out what Chakotay was cooking as she was to see him. He had become a part of her life now and even though she had only known him a few weeks, it felt as though she had known him forever. They got on so well, shared so much of the same interests, and he was such a kind, gentle, man.
Chakotay turned to her as she entered the room. "Good day?"
"As good as any other," she smiled. "What are you cooking?"
"A recipe I've never tried before, but it sounds delicious."
"And smells it."
Chakotay smiled and a dimple showed in his cheek. He looked so well now. He had put on weight and there was a brightness in his eyes, a rosiness in his cheeks.
"I have something to tell you," he said. "I've found a job."
Kathryn walked over to him, taking a peek at what he was cooking. "You have? Where?"
"In the local library. I was talking to one of the librarians today about a book and in conversation I happened to mention that I was looking for work. He said that one of their staff was leaving in three weeks time and the job could be mine if I wanted it. I said yes right away."
"I'm so happy for you," Kathryn smiled. "This is great news."
Chakotay nodded, but there was a sadness in his eyes. "It means I'll be able to find a home of my own."
Kathryn's eyes dulled and she lowered them. "Yes," she said quietly. "Although there's no rush. It's good having your company."
"Yours too," he said softly.
They gazed deep into each others eyes until Kathryn's broke their stare. "Well," she said uncomfortably, "I ... I'd better get changed, make myself comfortable."
She glanced at him again briefly, and then left the room.
The meal was over and Kathryn and Chakotay stood by the long window in the dining room and looked out at the stars. They shone brightly in the winter sky and were clearly visible in the low candle light of the room.
"You know a lot about the stars," Kathryn said, all too aware of his body touching hers as he stood behind her.
"Yes," he said. "Astronomy was always a hobby of mine. I used to spend hours studying the stars. My daughters would lie with me on the ground and I'd point out the stars to them, tell them stories about starships and aliens and brave captains and crews who would explore the galaxy expanding human knowledge of the universe." He stopped, tears welling in his eyes at the memories, and turned away from her. "I'm sorry," he said. "It's just when I think of them..."
Kathryn turned to him. "I understand," she said gently. "I've lost people too. My parents were killed in a fire when I was sixteen years old."
"I'm sorry."
She nodded in acknowledgment.
"What happened to you afterwards?"
"I went to live with my aunt," she replied. "She had a lot of money, a rich husband. I went to college, qualified as a teacher, and a few years later she died. My parents were in their forties having me and my aunt was older than them. She had no children of her own so I inherited all her money. That's how I could afford to move to this country, buy this house."
"It's a beautiful house."
"Yes."
Chakotay put his hand on her shoulder. He felt her body tense at his touch, but she didn't draw away. "The fires I made you. I hope they didn't ... evoke bad memories."
"No," she said. "After it happened, the fire, I was terrified of flames. But forcing myself to live with a fire in the hearth helped me to conquer it. I just wondered how the fire got there." She blushed. "I thought it was a ghost. I called her Meg." She paused, looked up at him. She caught her breath as she looked into his eyes. They were so beautiful in the dim light and there was so much warmth in them. She could hardly think, could hardly breathe. She felt his hand against her cheek, felt him caress her gently. "I know we've only really known each other a few weeks," he said softly, "but if feels as though I've known you all my life. For so long I've cared for you, watched out for you, and these past few weeks..." he paused and his voice fell to a whisper. "I love you, Kathryn."
Tears welled in her eyes and she drew away from him. "No," she whispered tearfully. "No, you can't love me. No one could love me." Tears spilled over her cheeks. "Just leave things as they are Chakotay. Just leave me alone."
With that she fled from the room.
It was just past dawn and Chakotay looked out of the window as he heard the backdoor open. He saw Kathryn walking in the garden. Her arms were protectively around her waist and she walked slowly over to the iron bench next to a little pond. Tears welled in his eyes. He had often watched her like this, always from a distance. He loved her so much and wanted so much to help her, but didn't know how. She had cried herself to sleep again last night, painful sobs that stung his heart. He would have to go to her, talk to her. Somehow he would have to break the barrier she kept around herself. He put on the new gray coat she had bought him and left the room.
Kathryn didn't look up as Chakotay approached her. She just stared into the pond and hugged herself tighter. There were remnants of tears on her face and she looked so pale. Chakotay sat down beside her. "What did you mean last night when you said no one could love you?"
Kathryn uncomfortably stood up and more tears ran down her face. She knew it was time, time for the truth. She stared out at the water. "Precisely that," she said. "There's so much you don't know about me."
"Then tell me," Chakotay said gently.
It was a long time before she spoke and another tear ran down her face. "I was in the fire," she whispered. "I was burned, badly burned ... my legs, my body ... terribly scarred..."
She couldn't say anymore, just wept. Chakotay stood up and put his hand on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry," he said tearfully. "But I'm also sorry you think your scars mean no one could love you."
Kathryn turned to him and there was so much pain in her eyes, so much hurt, even anger now. "I'm repulsive," she cried. "Who could bear to look at me, to touch me?"
Chakotay seized her gently, his own tears falling. "You are not repulsive. You are a kind, sensitive, loving, beautiful woman."
Her tears were streaming now. "No I'm not. I'm not! And you wouldn't say that if you saw the scars!"
"Yes I would," he cried. "Scars don't change who you are. They couldn't. I love you, Kathryn. I love you for all that you are."
She turned away, shook her head, and then wept softly again. She didn't know what to do now, what to say. She had never imagined this response. It was frightening to be on uncertain ground, so frightening. Chakotay turned her towards him and spoke gently. "Don't be afraid," he whispered. "There is nothing to fear." Her took her trembling hand in his, held it tight. "I love you and I want to make love to you."
More painful tears ran down her cheeks.
"Don't," she whispered. "Please don't say that. You haven't seen the scars."
Chakotay put his finger to her chin and gently raised her face to his. "I don't need to. I want to make love to you, Kathryn, to your soul." He looked deep into her eyes and saw a myriad of emotions there. Fear, doubt, pain, too much pain. He closed his eyes and kissed her lips with infinite tenderness. Then he looked into her eyes again. There was a light in them now, a small ray of hope. "Let's go inside," he said gently. "I'll make us a hot drink, some breakfast, then we can freshen up, shower, and take things slowly from there."
Kathryn hesitated, but then nodded. Chakotay smiled warmly and put his arm around her, guiding her back to the house.
Kathryn sat on the windowseat in her bedroom and looked out at the birds soaring through the sky. Her vision blurred as more tears welled in her eyes. Chakotay knocked the door and she momentarily froze. Then she wept. She couldn't do this, she couldn't have him look at her body only to despise it. He knocked the door again.
"Kathryn, are you ready?"
But she had to face this, she had to be strong.
She got up and wandered to the center of the room. "Yes," she cried, "come in."
Chakotay came in and his heart welled with pain when he saw that she had been crying again. He closed the door and went over to her. She avoided his eyes, kept them on the floor.
"What would you like me to do," she asked. "Would you like me to lie down or stand?"
Chakotay put his hand on her shoulder. "You're not on display here," he said gently. "Just stay as you are." He moved her hands gently to her side and then untied the belt of her long white bathrobe. He was about to draw it apart when she suddenly drew away from him in panic. "I can't," she whispered. "I can't let you look at me..."
She leant against her dressing table, wept painfully. Chakotay went over to her, tears wetting his eyes. He gently turned her to him. "It will be alright, Kathryn. I promise you."
He reached for her bathrobe and parted it gently. Kathryn was trembling violently and closed her eyes as she felt the robe fall to the floor. Chakotay moved his eyes slowly from her face to her shoulders. They were speckled with golden freckles, soft and beautiful. He let his eyes wander over her body and tears welled in them as he saw the scars on her chest, her waist, and her legs. She had been severely burnt. It was a miracle she was alive. Then his eyes returned to her face. "You look beautiful, Kathryn."
She swallowed a sob and then opened her eyes. Chakotay smiled into them and tears ran down her cheeks. There was so much love in his eyes, still so much love. He drew her close and cradled her against him as she wept in his arms.
Tears spilled over Kathryn's cheeks as Chakotay made tender love to her. He kissed her tears, his own merging with hers, and whispered again how much he loved her. He left no part of her untouched, unkissed, and heard her sob as he kissed her wounded flesh. He worked his way back to her mouth and kissed her gently before drawing her into his arms and holding her close. She clung tight to him and wept softly. Then, when she was ready, he kissed her again, made love to her again, and finally their bodies became one.
Kathryn lay still in Chakotay's arms. Her head lay on his chest and her arm was tight around him. She was quiet, very quiet. Chakotay kissed her hair.
"Are you alright, Kathryn?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"Tell me what you're thinking," he said gently.
A tear ran down her cheek and fell onto his chest. "I just can't believe this is happening to me. Even though I look different, inside I'm just like every other woman. All my life I've dreamt of moments like this, but never thought it would happen. I never thought anyone would want to touch me." She raised herself to look at him and gazed deep into his eyes. "Thank you."
Chakotay touched her face. "What for?"
"For giving me this memory."
He traced a course of a tear down her cheek, tears in his own. "I hope we can make lots of memories, Kathryn."
Uncertainty filled her eyes. "But I can't be enough for you. You need someone else ... someone beautiful. You..."
He put his finger to her lips. "I never want you to say that again, never think it. No one could be more beautiful to me than you. I love you so much and want to spend the rest of my life with you."
Kathryn gazed deep into his eyes and slowly he saw the uncertainty leave. Then she whispered softly. "I love you too."
Chakotay smiled and then, with a gentle finger under her chin, drew her mouth to his and kissed her tenderly.
"They're waking up," the Doctor said to Tuvok, monitoring their condition avidly.
Slowly, Kathryn's eyes fluttered open. All was a mist before her, but slowly the mist cleared and she saw the Doctor's face above her. He smiled warmly.
"Welcome back," Captain.
Kathryn sat up, looked around. "What happened?"
"You were injured on the Bridge. As you and the Commander were shot by an Aloran weapon, an alien entity entered your body and traveled to your brain. It's presence put you both into a dream state."
Kathryn was silent a moment, absorbing this. "I did have a dream, a strange dream. I was someone else, in a different time. And yet I was me. Chakotay was there too."
Kathryn turned to look at Chakotay who was also awake.
"You were in my dream," he said, sitting up. "I lived in an old house in England, lived there uninvited. It was your house. You were a teacher."
Kathryn swallowed. "That's the same dream I had. You were homeless, lived in..."
"A vacant bedroom upstairs."
Kathryn nodded uncertainly. "How could we have shared the same dream? Doctor?"
"It appears these aliens acted as some sort of neural transceiver, linking your minds." He paused. "Was it a pleasant dream or a nightmare? The body usually wakes from a nightmare but in your case all natural responses were suppressed."
"It was both pleasant and unpleasant," Kathryn replied. "I was scarred, terribly scarred after a fire."
Tuvok stepped forward. Kathryn hadn't noticed his presence. "Dreams often bring to the surface fears, doubts, and feelings that we try to suppress in the waking hours. I believe the scars would represent something in this life that has effected you, scarred your mind. You and the Commander may both be able to learn much from this experience."
Kathryn buried her head in her hands. She wasn't sure she wanted to. "Perhaps, Tuvok," she said. She looked up at the Doctor. "Are the Commander and I well enough to leave sickbay?"
"Yes," he replied. "Physically you are in fine health."
It was past midnight, but Kathryn couldn't sleep. She sat on her couch in her living room and stirred a coffee absently. She couldn't forget what had happened. It had been so real. She could feel Chakotay's arms around her, could feel his touch, his kiss. She wiped away a tear. She wanted to feel his touch now, wanted his arms around her.
"Chakotay to Janeway."
Kathryn spoke over the comm. "I'm here, Chakotay."
"I'm having trouble sleeping," he said gently, "thought you might be too."
"Yes," she whispered.
"Would you like to talk?"
She hesitated, but then relented. "I ... I think we should."
"I'll be right there," he replied.
A few minutes later, Chakotay was sitting beside her. He looked tired, his eyes heavy.
"It was so real, wasn't it?"
Kathryn nodded. Then tears welled in her eyes. "I have to know, Chakotay. In your dream, did we ... did we make love?"
"Yes," he whispered. "Yours?"
She nodded. A tear ran down her cheek. "I can still feel you ... your touch."
Tears welled in Chakotay's eyes. "Yours too."
He reached for her hand and held it tight in his. "You said no one could love you. Is that how you feel, Kathryn?"
She didn't answer. Chakotay held her hand tighter. "You thought the scars made you repulsive, undesirable. Why do you think you are undesirable, Kathryn? What do the scars represent?"
Kathryn broke away from him, stood up. "They represent nothing. It may have felt real, but it was just a dream. I have never been in a fire and you have never been married, had children."
There was a long silence, then Chakotay shattered it. "I have," he whispered.
Kathryn froze and then turned to him, stunned. "What?"
Chakotay stood up. "I had a wife. Her name was Maria. I met her while I was at the Academy. She was from Mexico and worked in a museum I used to go too. We fell in love, married, and we had two beautiful daughters, Loris and Geniver." More tears welled in his eyes and he struggled to hold them back. "I tried to make things up with my father, heal the rift between us, but he was so stubborn. I would make ten moves and he wouldn't even make one. In the end I gave up. But despite the differences between my father and I, I always made sure that Loris and Geniver got to know their grandparents, got to know their heritage. They would go and stay with my parents a lot, sometimes Maria too, and..." He paused, the memory hurting. "And they were there, the three of them, when the Cardassians attacked."
Kathryn stared tearfully at Chakotay and then, without hesitation, walked over to him and took him in her arms. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so very very sorry."
Chakotay nodded and could no longer hold back the tears. He wept softly and Kathryn held him tight.
It was a long time before they drew away. As they did, Kathryn took his hand in hers. "Why did you never tell me?"
"Because it hurt so much," he replied. "I was so angry, Kathryn. I wanted to avenge their deaths, do whatever it took. That's why I joined the Maquis."
She nodded in understanding. "Does B'Elanna know?"
"No. No one knows." He paused. "I don't know what would have happened to me if we hadn't got stranded and you came into my life. I think that's what the dream represented for me. The house was Voyager, my sanctuary. I think England, a foreign country, represented the Delta Quadrant for both of us." He touched Kathryn's face. "But tell me what the dream represented for you, Kathryn."
Kathryn lowered her eyes, uncertain whether she should tell him. But he had opened his heart to her and whether she liked it or not, the dream had changed everything. It was time to open her heart too. She walked away from him, wandered over to the window, and gazed out at the stars flying by at warp speed.
"Loneliness," she said quietly. A single tear ran down her cheek. "I'm so lonely, Chakotay. I live on this ship with over a hundred other people but I feel as alone as I was in the dream. But like her I want so much to love and be loved. She hadn't been held, been touched, in over twenty years and it feels that long for me. It feels an eternity."
Chakotay walked over to her and put his hand on her shoulder. "And the scars?"
Kathryn turned to him and another tear ran down her cheek. "I can't be what you need."
"I don't understand," Chakotay said softly.
"Intimacy," she whispered. "It was the obstacle for her, keeping her lonely, and here on Voyager it's the obstacle for me. We love each other, we both know how much we love each other, but we can never act upon those feelings, can never consummate our love. Our positions are the scars, protocol."
Chakotay took Kathryn's hands in his. "The scars only mattered because she thought they mattered. They didn't. It's the same with our positions, with protocol. They only matter because you make them matter so much. No one expects you to be alone. No one wants you to be alone."
"But it would be wrong," Kathryn whispered, "would jeopardize the crew if we crossed the line..."
Chakotay squeezed her hand. "Other people on the ship manage to combine a personal and a professional relationship. There's no reason why we can't."
"I have so little time, Chakotay, am always so tired..."
"I know that. But we can make special the time we can have together. We can comfort each other, support each other, and we can go to sleep holding each other. I love you, Kathryn. All I want is to be with you." A tear ran down his cheek. "Please don't throw our love away."
Kathryn touched his face, traced the course of his tear down his cheek and then drew him close. "I won't," she whispered. "Not anymore. I've just been so confused, so afraid."
"I know," he whispered. "But we can make this work, I know we can."
She nodded against him. "Yes," she said quietly, "I think we can."
She held tight to him a moment and then tearfully drew away. "I love you, Chakotay. I love you so much."
Another tear ran down his cheek. "I love you too."
Kathryn smiled and then gazed deep into his eyes. Chakotay touched her face now and then slowly, gently, tilted her face to his and kissed her softly.
THE END