Disclaimer: Paramount, Voyager...gee, one plus one equals...two? So, Voyager + characters equal...Paramount? An equation worth remembering.
So what was the point? What was the point in my existing here, when my crew despised me, my first officer had lost all respect for his once refined and elegant Captain. To him, I was nothing more than a hollow shell of a woman, the echoing cries of my long-forgotten once-apon-a-time soul drifting to loss in the void.
Consumed, he would say, were I speaking with him now. Consumed with a deep hatred for Ransom. My goal had been to capture him, take him into custody and make him regret past choices. But somehow that isn't as important to me as it once was. Somehow, with my only council behing the lonely silence of my cabin--I've straightened the line; stepped back into safety on the other side. My priorities arranged anew, with one item tugging persistantly at the back of my mind.
I have to gain his respect again. Only when that blessed moment occurs will I truly redeem my anguished self, and become she whom I once was. The woman who, as I realize now, held his heart in the palm of her hand, as he held hers. Yet, she was unaware.
Well, she's concious now. Fully so--knows the thrill of love, the thrill of loving, the sick and twisting pull of holding herself back. She knows all she needs to know, to survive what she is about to do.
I press the chime and wait with breath caught, heavy and suffocating, in my throat. The only way to survive this is to see it through, but I'm ready to admit fear and dread that he may not take me back. Will he accept the apology that I've prepared? The admittance that I was wrong--that, had I listened to him, we wouldn't be in this mess now?
"Captain." No Kathryn, just Captain? The warmth that had once expressed itself in tone was now suppressed beneath layers of fine, powdery residue, known too well to me as anger.
"May I come in, Chakotay? We--"
"Need to talk. Yes, I know. Please." But as I entered I was confronted with the nearly overwhelming urge to retreat. A good Captain knows when to utilize all her remaining options, even when they turn out to be less than admirable. Maybe a good Kathryn understands that as well. He seemed to catch my sudden flinch of reluctance, and led me farther in. "Are you all right?"
"Fine." I say, and this time flinch at the harsh gravel which coats my response. He needs kindess if he's going to listen to anything I have to say. And I need him to listen...I want him to listen.
"All right, then." It's beyond him to act cruel, but this protocol, this obligation to be polite--it only fueled my determination to the point of bursting forth, without a further consideration into what I was doing.
"I'm sorry!"
The heavy silence set down as dusk would, turning the light tension to a dim and cool evening chill. It seemed at that point a good idea to exit, but as he placed his hand to rest on my arm I became set in stone, a statue in his garden.
"For what, Kathryn?"
Oh, those eyes. The most effective, destroying source of guilt and despair that he yields at his disposal. I'm not that strong yet...is there a possiblilty I could withstand this for just a moment longer?
"For my obcession." I reply. "My drive and ambition...for not admitting that I was wrong, and for..." But I stop, with his finger on my lips, and his hand on mine.
"Don't punish yourself any more than you already have." He admonishes, fingers gently squeezing mine. "And I know you've been punished enough."
"Oh, Chakotay, I've missed you."
He kissed me fully, wrapping strong arms around my waist and lifting me high, holding me tight, in an embrace that signaled forgiveness. More than that, it gave me hope, and life, and a reason to laugh as his warmth touched my soul.
He forgave me.
And I'd already forgotten that he was ever upset.