[2. I Will Write You a Song]
January 2376
Deep Space Nine
"Taos?" the counselor asks.
"New Mexico," Chakotay explains. "My aunt who lives on Earth took my sister and me there for vacation once, and I never forgot it."
"I've never been to the American Southwest," she admits.
"Not even in one of your previous hosts?"
She shakes her head, then wistfully asks, "What's it like there?"
Chakotay cracks a rare smile at the young counselor's question, and he wonders if he senses a hint of wanderlust hidden behind it. If so, he might actually like this one. "Small town in the Sangre de Cristo mountains, near the Rio Grande. It has some of the most incredible scenery on the planet. When the sun is low in the sky, it turns the mountains red."
The counselor smiles, her bright blue eyes focused on something unseeable to anyone outside of her own mind. "That sounds amazing."
So it is wanderlust, he thinks approvingly. "Many artists and writers have been inspired by its landscapes, as well as by its people. Actually, a lot of the residents are descendants of the Pueblo villagers who lived in the area for more than a thousand years before the Third World War."
"How fascinating! I'll make sure to visit next time I'm on Earth."
"You should," he agrees.
Yes, he does like this counselor. He is actually beginning to relax with her. Few things are more exciting than finding someone who is interested in the sort of cultures that flourish off the beaten paths of tourists.
Although, he reminds himself, she is a joined Trill—and a Dax at that. She could put my knowledge and experience to shame several lifetimes over.
Dax studies him carefully. "What are you thinking about?"
He lets out a nearly-imperceptible chuckle. "I was thinking that you may be the first counselor I've seen that I get along with."
She smiles, and it brightens her eyes even more. "I'm glad you think that, Chakotay."
He is grateful that she remembers not to call him by his rank. He hates it when people address him by rank. It only reminds him of what he lost, and he needs no reminders of that.
Dax keeps the rest of the conversation easy and light, never pressing him and only talking about things he wants to talk about. When the time is up, he realizes that he is slightly disappointed.
"I hope you do decide to stay here," she offers as she stands and shakes his hand.
He nods. "I think I will, at least for a little while. I could use some distance from Command, and I always did regret how little time I had to actually see Bajor while I was with the Maquis."
She flashes him a genuinely pleased smile. "Good. Does that mean I'll be seeing you again?"
He nods. "I'd like that."
For the first time Chakotay can recall, he willingly makes a second appointment with Lieutenant Dax's assistant before he leaves.
February 2375
USS Voyager
"Come away with me," he whispers in her ear as they dance across the floor of her quarters, "and I'll never stop loving you."
He feels her smile against his skin. "To Taos?" she asks.
"To bed," he replies. "Tonight."
Their movement stops, and she pulls back to look him in the eyes. She studies his face closely.
He has surprised her, he realizes, with his forwardness. Normally, he defers to her timing in all things. He hadn't planned on their evening going this way, but when she kissed him, he was lost.
"Are you—" her voice hitches, and she swallows. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"
He smiles teasingly. "Are you asking me? Or, are you asking yourself?"
She huffs a laugh and drops her head to hide her embarrassment.
"Kathryn." His hand slides under her chin and nudges it gently upward, encouraging her to look at him. When she does, his breath catches at the thin, sparkling rings of blue that surround her wide black pupils. "Just tonight," he says. "Tomorrow, we make the flight as planned. And then, we can talk about Taos."
"You don't—" she licks her lips "—think we should wait?"
"I don't want to."
The look she gives him lets him know she's onto his true motive. There is a very real possibility of catastrophe, and this might be his last chance to show her what he's been holding back from her for so long.
She doesn't call him out. Secretly, she has the same fear, though she would never admit it to anyone—not even to him. He knows her well enough to know that, and he respects her enough to pretend he knows nothing.
Her countenance shifts as she comes to a decision. Her hands, which had been resting on his chest, snake upward to curl around his neck. "Taos," she confirms just before she lifts her lips to his.
January 2376
Deep Space Nine
'So you're staying?' Kathryn stands over him—arms crossed beneath her chest and one hip resting against the side of his desk—as he plans a visit to Bajor on the computer console in his quarters. It's a pose she likes to use when she wants to attract his gaze, because it makes her curves all the more noticeable.
He doesn't oblige her ploy for attention, but he still answers her question. "For now."
In his periphery, he watches her arms drop to her sides as she begins to saunter around the room, just the way she used to when he first moved into his apartment on Earth. On a pause, she lets out an audible sigh. 'I don't know that I could ever get used to living with Cardassian architecture. It doesn't bother you?'
He shrugs, still keeping his eyes on the screen. "I'll manage."
She continues meandering silently through his quarters—which doesn't take her long, given their small size—until she comes to a stop in front of the wall his desk faces. On it hangs a painting he had originally made years before and presented to the real Kathryn Janeway as a gift.
She loved it from the moment she first laid eyes on it.
It isn't the original, of course; that one never left the wall in her quarters where he had helped her hang it the night he gave it to her, and it is likely vaporized in some god-forsaken swath of space between here and the Delta Quadrant. This painting is a recreation that he made from memory to occupy the travel time between Earth and Deep Space Nine.
'You finally put up some wall art,' she notes, her tone alight with pleasure. When Chakotay looks up at her, she is regarding him with a hopeful smile. 'It's beautiful, Chakotay. It looks just like—'
"Us," he finishes for her.
She nods, and turns back to the painting—a starry night sky overlooking a lake, a bright slash of moonlight etched into the rippling water below, and a tiny sailboat carrying two indistinct figures silhouetted against the spotlight. It's based on a holographic recreation of Lake George, where they had gone sailing together just a day after nearly losing her.
That night, he almost gave into the impulse to throw caution to the simulated wind and kiss her.
It wasn't the first time her life had been endangered—not even close to it. It was, however, the first time that he was forced to confront the possibility of living out the rest of his days in regret. What if they missed out on something significant by burying the attraction that blossomed between them? Would their sacrifice be worth it in the end? What if she died not knowing the depth of his feelings towards her? Could he ever forgive himself for passing over every chance the universe gave him to touch the woman underneath the captain's mask?
'Every chance but one,' Kathryn reminds him, bringing his mind back to the present. Slowly, she makes her way to his desk and perches herself on the edge of it. Her eyes convey ineffable depths of love as they hold his gaze. 'We'll always have one.'
Chapter 2 of 9
