This is a Resolutions story! As any Janeway/Chakotay fanfic writer'll have you know, we all try our hand at one of these at some point in our fanfic carreer, and this is my take on what happened if Kathryn had loosened up on New Earth a little sooner, like a month or so before Voyager came back for them. Also, this fic won't acknowledge the presence of any monkeys, because I really can't have them tramping around interrupting sexy times between these two.
This is mostly just smut and fluff, with a hint of an angsty plot twined in there somewhere. If you don't expect anything more than that then you're good to go. Enjoy!
I've been working on this for about a month now, and it's nearly done. I figured I'd just start posting while I wrap the last of it up.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think, and any constructive criticism is ALWAYS welcome.
I will try to update this story every other day or so. But like I said, it's mostly complete anyway, so I won't leave you waiting endlessly in between updates.
Crossposted to AO3
Chapter 1: Setting Parameters
Voyager: A month prior
"Commander, we'll need to review the ship's systems. I'll handle propulsion, environmental and communication. You'll be responsible for sensors, weapons and transporters," she all but barked.
"Aye, Captain. I'll have a report to you by 1800 hours."
"Check with phaser maintenance. See if they solved that problem with the pre-fire chamber temperature."
"Yes, ma'am. I'll see to it," he replied, picking up exactly where they'd left off, falling back into what should feel familiar, but what now appeared forced, uncomfortable even.
It showed.
She sensed Harry's suspicious sidelong glances, watched Tom's hands hover above the ship's con for a second longer than was necessary. They undoubtedly wondered, as did she, if all of Kathryn Janeway had been replaced by the captain the second she'd slipped the uniform back on.
And what of the commander?
How'd they fall back into their respective roles so easily? After three months of roughing it in the woods?
She supposed that was what they were thinking, wondering about. Had she changed? Had they changed? Had things changed?
=/\=
New Earth: One month prior to Voyager's return
"We need to define some parameters… about us."
"I'm not sure I can define parameters, but I can tell you a story."
It turned out that his story moved her to the core, much more so than she ever thought possible. He'd never told her he felt that way about their working together before, had only ever shown his dedication through hard work and focus, all achieved from a respectable distance. He had become a solid presence in her life and she valued his professionalism, had come to trust his loyalty to her cause - their cause. But she'd attributed that loyalty to his nature, to the unbreakable ethics that defined him.
He'd known, as had she at the time, that combining forces and letting go of past wrong doings, had been the only way forward for both their crews if they were to stand a chance out there in the proverbial wild. They were all alone in the quadrant. A truce under Starfleet rules was the only thing that had made sense.
He'd agreed.
But.. he'd been suspicious of her at first, thinking his "promotion" had only been for show, to collar the Maquis that served under him. And maybe it had been a strategically sound move on her part. His position as commander next to her on the bridge exuded comradeship. If the Maquis leader was willing to join forces with Starfleet to get home, how could his trustworthy crew ever resist? He knew as well as she did that leaders led by example, and so, per request his underlings had followed. Mutinous thoughts had been mostly taken care of by their joining of crews, with the painful exception of Seska and Jonas. She regretted what had happened there, had wondered in the early days if there had been anything they could have done differently. But then, chances were that there would always be rebels among rebels, and so she'd let that feeling go. She'd been lucky enough there'd only been two to defy Chakotay's example, two out of thirty-two Maquis crewmembers. Those weren't bad odds, and in the end, Seska and Jonas's betrayal had only solidified her trust in him. He'd stuck with her through it, and unlike them, he'd never betrayed her once.
Sure, she'd used him, but by the end of their time on Voyager she'd learned to trust him like all captains learned to trust and depend on their XOs. It made sense, he provided a sense of security she learned to count on. He'd become as trustworthy a friend as Tuvok, and she appreciated him for it.
But now this, this was something else entirely; he'd just exposed hidden parameters in an already established algorithm, exposed veiled thoughts. He hadn't just highlighted what was already there: loyalty. No, his words underlined an emotion that went far beyond any type of common sense.
She could only stare, hold onto his hand like a lifeline. It was too complicated; she wasn't sure if she could move beyond what he was proposing.
"I need time," she finally stated.
He inclined his head, and let go of her hand.
"That," he smiled "I can do."
=/\=
Present Day: Voyager
"Coffee."
"Specify."
"Coffee. Black" she snapped.
"Specify," the replicator repeated.
"You've got to be ki–-coffee. Black. Hot!"
"Unable to comply."
"Why the hell not?!"
"Replicator is offline."
"Is this a joke?"
"Specify," the machine droned.
"Janeway to Torres."
"Torres here"
"I've got a malfunctioning replicator in my quarters, know anything about that?"
A short pause.
"Ah, yes –" the chief engineer hesitated. "It appears as though Ensign Vorik blew out a gel pack during routine maintenance on deck three this morning. He should have replaced it by now."
"Well, what the hell is taking so long?" Janeway barked. "Get on it, Lieutenant."
"Aye, captain," the younger woman bit back, a hint of annoyance attached to the latter word.
"Torres out."
Janeway brought her hands up to massage her temples; a headache forming where her tips applied pressure to relieve some of the pain pounding away inside her skull. She had half a mind to chalk the migraine up to withdrawal symptoms, but she knew that that was only part of the problem.
In truth, she hadn't been able to fall back into her old routine quite as effortlessly as the crew had expected her to. She'd been irritable, moody and downright hostile whenever circumstances forced her into manmade corners. She'd never considered herself a violent sort of woman, but the urge to wreck havoc, pick a fight with a hostile alien species, or just throw one of Neelix's dishes around the mess hall proved to be harder to resist these days.
It had become obvious to her that she needed a distraction, one that forced her mind away from the obvious.
=/\=
New Earth: Three weeks prior to Voyager's return
"A vegetable garden?"
"One just outside of the house," she said as she set down the glass of wine that he'd just poured for her. "Like the gardens people used to have throughout the 20th and 21st century. Although, I'm not sure many of those were vegetable gardens, but it would most certainly provide food tastier than the emergency supply rations we've been living of off."
He nodded, scrutinizing her face with prudent scepticism.
"What?" she challenged.
"I can see the appeal," he said as he pulled a sweater over his head and crouched down next to the campfire beside her. The first stars were already poking through the twilight, and with the setting of the sun a colder wind now blew across the clearing, adversely challenging the flames to rise higher or surrender to the breeze.
"But?"
"I guess, I'm just surprised."
"Surprised?"
He studied her face for a moment longer, taking in the childlike gleam that he'd never seen sparkle in her eyes before, and then shook his head.
"Never mind."
"No," she straightened, and in a manner that was quite bold reached out and took his hand. "Tell me."
"Okay," he shifted closer, and turned her hand over in his lap, softly caressing the inside of her palm with his thumb. Her lashes flickered in the dim light, and he felt her stiffen for a moment, torn between pulling away and acquiescing.
"That," he whispered "Right there."
She relaxed her hand, and he knew she understood.
"I can't quite tell if you've accepted life here, or if you're trying to force yourself to accept something that you're not ready to fully commit to, yet."
She bit her lip, and looked away. He kept surprising her, and in a way it wasn't surprising at all. She'd never allowed herself to get to know him fully, not really. Nor had she allowed for him to get to know her. But life here was different. Over the past couple of months, she'd lowered her guard more and more, and had gotten to know the man that sat in front of her quite intricately, much better than she'd ever known the man in the uniform. Two years they'd worked alongside each other, two years they'd spent on the bridge together, but not together at all, not really. Sure, he'd always been loyal, held strong convictions that had led him down a controversial path of self-made righteousness, but she'd always known that about him. Now, it turned out, he was much more than that and, yet, not as complicated as she made him out to be.
"I don't know," she finally admitted. "But I know I'm trying."
"I don't doubt that," he tugged at her hand, inviting her to scoot closer.
She only hesitated for a moment; the protestation coming from a place of formality, from a commandeering voice that held no power over her. Not anymore.
His arm slipped around her waist, and she reflexively leaned her head on his shoulder. It felt nice, and why shouldn't it? He was right, parameters or not, there was no one but herself holding her back. At the end of the day the reality of their situation was really quite simple: few responsibilities mixed with unlimited time that stretched out far and wide before them, and their own choices of how to spend it.
She shuddered.
"Cold?"
"No," she shook her head.
He pulled her closer all the same and she appreciatively nuzzled his neck, her nose cold, all of the rest ablaze. He shivered in response, and it was all she could do to further resist the flutter in her own chest. He smelled good, felt good, and her lips involuntarily brushed against his neck, subconsciously wondering if he also tasted good.
"Kathryn," he murmured hot against her ear.
Her hand came up to his chest, and he grabbed it, twining his fingers with hers, resisting.
"Stop," he breathed, a barely contained whisper spilling over with want.
Should she? She'd been unsure of what to do after his bold revelation a mere week ago. During his time on Voyager he'd firmly kept those specific cards to his chest, protecting himself from potential carelessness. If he had shown his hand then, it would surely have complicated matters between them. But hadn't she been doing something similar? Regardless of her feelings for Mark, had there not been moments when she had wanted to escape from her responsibilities, and give into the mutual attraction she felt simmer just beneath the surface. Over the years, she'd tried to find a simulated kind of release instead, on the holodeck, with holograms that had not been meant to be used in such specific manners, but how else could she have been expected to rid herself of the boiling want that had wound itself around her heart. Yes, she was the captain, but she'd never been able to blot Kathryn out completely. She wasn't a Vulcan, had never aspired to become one.
She softly kissed his neck, nipping at his skin, satisfying her blatant curiosity.
It was all the encouragement he needed.
His fingers twined in her hair, pulling at and turning her head slightly, claiming her lips on an incomprehensible sigh, and she was more than willing, welcoming the blissful warmth that spread through her body at his touch, latching on to that one heated moment she wished could last forever.
She pushed herself closer to him, the desire to be touched stifling, overwhelming. She only managed to hold herself upright for a couple of seconds before his weight forced her down and her back hit the grass with a soft thump. He fell alongside her while his tongue fought for access beyond her lips. She reluctantly pulled back to accommodate him better, and then gasped as a rush of sensations rolled over her where his tongue duelled with hers in a battle that gratified both. She felt his hand on her neck, sliding down to her breasts, attempting to match her passion, vying for dominance, which could be attained by either.
In the end, he won, by a slight margin, and only because she hadn't realized how incredibly starved she'd been for this type of human contact; how much she'd craved the connection provided by a touch that went beyond, and proved to be much more intricate than a touch created by infinite amounts of ones and zeroes held together by force fields and holo emitters. She desired this man much more. A real heartbeat, a real body, a real touch.
But was it real?
Well, is it? That nasty little voice in her head challenged.
She hesitated.
One of his hands slid under her shirt, flattening and pressing down right where the muscles stiffened beneath his touch.
He stopped and pulled back, looking up at her, scanning her eyes for answers while a confused frown drifted across his desire ridden features; she softly pushed against his chest, signalling the end of whatever it was they'd just begun.
He sighed, but drew back, wincing as he straightened, trying, but failing, to hide the painfully obvious.
"Talk to me," he ordered, but his voice was soft, understanding.
She brought one hand up to his cheek, her eyes pensively tracing the linear shapes and bended lines of his tattoo, before speaking.
"I'm having a hard time understanding what I'm actually feeling."
His mouth curved against her hand, and he tenderly brushed his lips along the inside of her palm.
"I know."
Her brows shot up.
He took her hand from his lips, curled her fingers around his, and let his gaze drift to the flames licking the dark sky. The night had snuck up on them when it had lost their attention; he took note of the small firefly like creatures skirting past the flames now, looking as though they did not quite understand how this sun could be so close, and feel so dangerously hot at the same time. He could relate.
"I've not been with anyone since Seska," he said.
Seska.
That really was the last person she wanted to talk about in this place. Especially, under these circumstances. She frowned thoughtfully.
"And I imagine it's been even longer for you," he continued.
She swallowed, her expression softening.
She'd been tempted by a few aliens on the way, but really the only release she'd had was…
"I made good use of the holodeck every now and again," she smirked.
He turned to her, a small glint appearing in his eyes as the meaning of her words settled tentatively between them. She appreciated that about him. He understood what it took to be the captain, to be the responsible one, while also knowing what it meant to have unfulfilled needs.
"Me too," he admitted.
She laughed. Genuine amusement bubbling up from inside her; he smiled, momentarily captured by her childish amusement, before turning serious again.
"I'm incredibly attracted to you," he confessed. "and not just because you're the only other person on this planet," he added, as though that really needed to be made clear.
Desire flashed white hot across her face, and he didn't wait for her consent this time. His eyes found her mouth before his lips did, his intentions crystal clear. She didn't protest, let him pull her to him in one swift motion as his lips descended on hers once more, more demanding this time.
"Right now, I really don't care whether it's lust or more, Kathryn," he said, pulling back slightly.
She felt her last resolves weaken, melting into his embrace fully.
Oh, she was in trouble. Deep, deep trouble.
=/\=