Title: When Two Become One
Summary: The dress has been selected, and the date has been set. The caterer is ready, and the guest-list complete. In true 'Voyager Style', this day is sure to go off without a hitch... Right?
Rating: K+
Author's Note: Ahoy! This is the second of my stories to be re-uploaded after editing. Things have been taken out, and other's have been added. I'd just like to thank everybody for the support they've been giving me with this; you are all amazing! On another note; I hate the present tense! This has been a total P-I-T-B to edit, but I think that I've finally perfected it. Happy reading!
The smell of fresh, fragrant freesias wafts over from the partially open doors of the Mess Hall, making everybody's stomach tighten. The gentle rustling of freshly pressed uniforms provides a constant background noise, even though everybody is silent.
Anticipation saturates the air.
An Ensign stands alone, shuffling nervously from foot to foot. Her uniform, a little too large for her small frame, is softly creased, and her hair is slightly dishevelled.
She works the night shift.
Clutching tightly to the hand of her ever-attentive father, a young brunette girl with distinct cranial ridges stands tall and proud in her pale celadon-coloured dress. She has been entrusted with perhaps the greatest responsibility of all on this big day; keeping her father in line. In his quarters, a young man watches affectionately as his 'surrogate mother' paces nervously around the room. Seeing her in a wavy, white wedding dress brings a tear to his eye. The other woman in the room places a reassuring arm around his shoulders; it's an unexpected display of unity, and with it, the barriers fall down. In his own private space a busy Talaxian prepares both traditional favourites and exotic recipes. The family that he feared he would never receive stand lovingly at his side, wrapped up in the emotion of the day, and he feels blessed to be able to celebrate with his old crew.
Despite the difficulties of previous years, a special occasion never fails to unite the people of Voyager.
Meditating intently in his bedroom, an aging mentor allows himself a final moment of peace before deigning to step out into the controlled chaos of the corridors. His hair, cut as short as ever, is now speckled with flecks of grey, and his stride is not as sure as it once had been. He is, however, in the best of mentalities, and he feels it only prudent to celebrate the union of two of his closest companions.
Gently cleaning the mouthpiece of his new black clarinet, a newly-promoted lieutenant glances proudly at the Commander, who is regarding his reflection critically in the mirror. It had been a sleepless night for the both of them.
...
Just a short thirty minutes later, the crew take their assigned seats in the appropriately decorated Mess Hall. Vases filled with only the brightest, buttercup-coloured flowers adorn white, linen covered tables. A white and gold candelabra takes pride of place at the doorway; and instead of the traditional white carpet leading up to the alter, a trail of canary-coloured tulip petals lead the way.
Standing at the head of a precession, a woman with a distant expression on her face wrings her hands repeatedly to release some of the tension that had wracked her body since she awoke over five hours ago. Her, once youthful, face now holds lines that tell the stories of not only her life, but the tale of Voyager itself. She had once been in love with the man who she was about to marry to somebody else. Even now, with ten minutes to go, she's considering asking her most trusted Chief of Security to do the honours; she's just not sure if she can bring herself to let go.
The doors swish open and the man in question walks down the aisle. Now that she's left her father in the care of his wife, Miral Paris traipses down the aisle, occasionally dropping random clumps of baby-blue blossoms in heavy heaps on the floor. For about three minutes, the crewmembers chatter mutedly amongst themselves, their approval apparent. Chakotay, responsible as ever, stumbles to catch Miral, who is still not quite tall enough to conquer the steps.
Now that it's time, in come the older bridesmaids. Naomi walks down the aisle, looking ever-so grown up in a mint version of her fellow bridesmaid's dress. The beam on her face is unrivalled by most, and her mother struggles to bite back tears. In contrast to Miral, she scatters the petals from her woven basket evenly. She joins people at the alter; taking the toddler's hand in her own.
B'Elanna's next. She walks down the aisle gracefully, looking radiant in a dress that only just covers the hints of a four-month-old baby-bump. She tucks a wayward strand of hair behind her ear before coming to a stop. Standing two feet from the alter, she waits for five seconds before turning around and signalling for the ushers to open the door for the final time.
Clutching tensely at the arm of her 'adopted' child, the bride steps into the room. An awed silence descends over the crowd, who wait eagerly for her to begin her final steps as a single woman. She, the woman who has worked so intensely hard to become an individual, was about to overcome her final obstacle in her quest for humanity. She's to entrust another person with both her body and her heart. She only half-realizes that she had already done so long ago.
In unison, Seven and Icheb pace down the path leading towards the groom, who's turned his back to the door in accordance with tradition. Tom Paris, who's standing to the right of Chakotay, cheekily sneaks a look at the bride, earning him a soft slap on the arm from his own.
When they, finally, reach the alter, Seven turns to Icheb, who removes the thin veil that shades her delicate face. Now, in full view of the guests, Seven kisses his cheek and ruffles his short hair affectionately.
Turning to his bride, Chakotay's heart melts. Her long blonde hair is free of its mandatory up-do, and cascades freely down the lightly tanned skin of her neck. Her dress cinches in her waist, and flows beautifully, covering her long legs.
Soon, the ceremony is underway. Janeway conducts the ceremony as if she's been practising for hours, even cracking a few little jokes, seemingly at ease; but everyone knows better.
Soon, they come to the personalized vows.
"Now, ladies and gentlemen; Chakotay and Seven have chosen to go down the traditional route with most of this ceremony. However, they have both written their own vows, and we will hear them now. Over to you Commander."
Chakotay takes a deep breath, as if contemplating what to say, but, of course, he already knows.
"Seven, I know we got off to a 'rocky' start, my trying to convince our Captain to dispose of you didn't exactly pave the way for what we have now," he pauses as the guests laugh lightly, "but not for one minute, have I wanted you gone since. I can't promise you perfection, and nor can I claim to be the best you could ever have. But what I can promise you is that I'll always love you. Whatever happens from here on out; I'll be by your side. Through the good times, and the bad, I'll remain yours. Throughout your greatest happiness, down to your darkest hours, I will be here for you, for us."
The Captain chokes back a sob before asking Seven for her vows.
As she daintily wipes away a tear, Seven begins her speech.
"I haven't had any lessons on the correct way to deliver my vows, so I apologize in advance." She says, causing her husband-to-be to smile encouragingly, "but I feel that even if I'd had years to perfect what I'm saying, I'd never be able to verbalise how deep for you my love runs. I won't say that you made me into everything I am today, but you enhanced my individuality to such an extent that I have to remind myself of how I used to be. I, I love you. More than I ever thought possible," as she looks him in the eye, and a slight smirk appears on her lips, 'despite the fact that you claim you can't offer me perfection, I think we both know that, like many things, perfection is irrelevant'.
...
The wedding cake stands appetizingly at the middle of the colossal tale in the middle of the Mess Hall. The wedding chairs have been moved to fit around circular tables, and everyone is chattering amicably. Seven and Chakotay stand hand-in-hand as they look at their guests.
"It was only meant to be a small family affair," Chakotay jokes, drawing a smile from his wife.
"Then I guess it turned out just fine" she quips, leaning for a kiss.
"Hey, you two, Get a room!" A familiar voice heckles jovially.
"We have a room, Lieutenant Paris, if you'd like us to leave. But just remember, if we do, you won't get cake until tomorrow," Seven teases, earning a look of amusement from B'Elanna.
"That's really okay, you can stay, I suppose," he winks.
As the bride and groom take their seats, a hush spreads throughout the room.
"Well, I know you want to hear the speeches, so let's get them over with," Chakotay says, with the biggest smile on his face, "And I'm sure I'll come to regret this, but Tom has the honour of being my best man and, as such, he gets the first one. "
"Well, I am deeply offended Commander," Tom exclaims in mock annoyance, "that you really think I'd let you get off lightly. Firstly, I'd like to warn you how tough married life can be. Most of the time there can never be a compromise; you'd better prepare yourself to be eating a whole lot of 'humble pie' in the next few years my friend, because even when you know that your right, you're wrong. Ouch! B'Elanna that hurt! Oh, and whilst I'm at it: wait a little to while to have kids. Yeah, they're amazing and give you an excuse to misbehave every once in a while; Yes I love you darling," he pauses to look sternly at Miral who has snuck off to grab at the wedding cake, " but they do tend to be a bit of hard work. On a serious note, I couldn't be happier for the both of you. As two of the nicest people I know, you couldn't be better suited to each other, and we all know that when you find 'The One', it's forever. I wish you both the life of happiness and joy that you deserve; both individually and together."
Tom sits down gently, revelling in the applause he receives for his efforts. Smiling warmly, Seven stands.
"Well, that went a little better than I had anticipated," she states jokingly, "And I'm sorry to disappoint you, Tom, but your advice has already been rendered 'irrelevant'. I found out yesterday morning that I am, in fact, six weeks pregnant."
Everybody in the room gasps in surprise and delight. Even the Captain looks thrilled with the news that there is to be yet another addition to the Voyager crew. Taking Seven aside, Chakotay wraps her into a loving embrace, and she reciprocates with equal affection. After waiting for everyone to take the hint and start talking, he begins to question Seven nervously.
"You're pregnant?" he asks, as if afraid to believe it's true.
"I'd hardly say it in front of the crew if I was not certain," she defends, "You're not upset about it, are you?"
"Of course not! Don't you ever, ever think something like that! I'm just worried, I thought The Doctor said that you coul-"
"I wish you wouldn't worry so. The Doctor has said that I'll be monitored all the way along."
"I couldn't ask for anything more.
"Well, I'm glad you're happy, because it's happening, Chakotay; we're going to have our own little family."
As he pulls her back into the embrace, Chakotay kisses the top of his wife's head lovingly.
This time, they're not told to 'get a room'.