Disclaimer: Guess
Feedback: I crave it
Silent Words:
I never told her, not outright, all the years we were together, side by side, every day. I still didn't tell her.
Just think how many sentences, how many thousands of words you must say every day, every hour. How many of them do you
suppose really matter? In the grand scheme of things. Not very many I suppose. I could have said some important words, the
most important of my life, three words, one sentence that could have changed everything in an instant. I still didn't.
Looking back I suppose I was afraid, I was always afraid. Was I pushing her too far? Was I backing off too much? Day in and
day out the thoughts crossed my mind.
She was a strong woman, no doubting that. Maybe it was all a part of the attraction. At first it was purely sexual. I was
headstrong, so sure of my own importance. She fascinated me, she intrigued me, she intertwined into my thoughts until she was
a part of my life and I couldn't imagine a day without her. By day I would watch her in her uniform, the larger than life
presence. Then by night I would remove the uniform piece by piece and I would love her the way she deserved. At first my
dreams were full of passion, writhing figures, moans, all covered in the smokescreen that always accompanied those types
of dreams, giving them the impression of being something sordid, something almost dirty. Then gradually, slowly, they started
to change, suddenly there was tenderness instead of manhandling, love instead of pure animal instinct. The smokescreen faded
and gradually dispersed until it was as if it had never been.
My feelings for her almost scared me at first. They were so deep it was as if I had loved her all of my life. I never fell
'in' love with her, I always loved her, I never hadn't loved her. She was the other half of my soul, she was my life. Every
day I handed her my life to protect and I never had a second thought. In return I gained an insight to the most special
person, woman, I have ever known. All the words in all the universe couldn't describe her. She was a Captain and a Woman.
I loved both of them because they were both her. They even sounded the same, Kathryn and Captain. I sit here now and I don't
even have a picture of her near me, but I can still recall her in an instant. That hair, tumbling down her shoulders whenever
you released it from it's prison, those eyes, sparkling, always on the verge of laughter even at the most tired moment. That
mouth, curved into her small knowing half smile and that voice, the voice that haunted my dreams, no one could ever replicate
that voice, or the soul hidden behind it.
It was our fourth year, I suppose thinking back it was natural that we should lean towards each other. Neither of us were
getting any younger and we were too stubborn to try and look for anything anywhere else. Not that I would have done. We were
lonely and tired of trying to hide the obvious. No definite words were spoken, no plans made, it was just an agreement. By
day she was the Captain and I the Commander, by night we were equals, we were lovers.
Did Voyager guess? I expect so. Voyager guessed before we did ourselves. It would have been impossible not to notice the
change, the removing of tension as it were. No-one ever said anything, the infamous betting pools were resolved and
discreetly dismantled. I knew they knew and I expect that deep down Kathryn knew as well but she was perfectly content with
the deception, she liked thinking the ship was ignorant. Looking back I don't blame her, the ship was her child, something
to be protected. I never pushed her to tell anyone, we still hadn't voiced anything, it was a silent agreement that
some nights when she invited me to dinner, I wouldn't be going home. She was the one in control, this was new territory
for her, I don't think she was used to this kind of thing, or happiness. I felt sorry for her at times, so desperate she was
to pretend that nothing was going on, she even tried to trick herself into believing that nothing ground shaking was
happening. I don't think she quite knew the extent of my feelings in the early days, if she had I expect she would have
backed away.
Six months it went on. Six months of pretending, lying, hoping beyond hope that no-one would say anything to her, that no-one
would drive her away from me. One word was all it would have taken. Just one member of the crew slipping up and making an
out of place comment and she would be gone from my arms, never to return. So precarious was my hold on her. I still hadn't
told her, she still didn't know just how I felt. Daily I tried to imagine her reaction, what she would do if I asked her to
be my wife. I suppose I underestimated her really, I was so desperate to protect her I never stopped to think that maybe she
really was as strong as she appeared, maybe she was ready for happiness.
One night I went to her as usual for dinner. She had been off duty that day but when I had spoken to her in the morning she
seemed fine. She'd joked to me that the Doctor was tired of her being so healthy and was determined to find something wrong.
Deep down I knew she was lying. She'd been loosing weight and the rings under her eyes were so pronounced. I rang the chime
for an age but she didn't answer, eventually I broke in. It was so silent, a stillness pulsing in my ears. The faint feeling
of dread that had been haunting me all day suddenly came back to me with a vengeance until I was almost shaking with fear.
I found her lying on her bed, her chest barely rising with shallow breaths. I couldn't wake her, no matter how hard I tried.
Thinking back I still can't remember exactly how I got her to the Sick Bay, I can't even remember how long I was there. I can
remember the look on the Doctor's face when he told me there was nothing more he could do. I suppose all that strength really
was just a show. Her mind was so strong, but her body so weak. I couldn't let her stay holed up in the Sick Bay, the Doctor
didn't argue. She was so light in my arms I could barely feel her. I had known for a while that something was up, I thought
that it was just tiredness, I never realised just how seriously ill she was. After all the fighting her body just simply
gave up.
There were no tearful goodbyes, no declarations of love. Somehow I knew she didn't want that. She recorded a few simple
messages, wishing people good luck and distributing a few of her personal belongings, she somehow instinctively knew what
people would need. Then she smiled up at me and took my hand. A sudden urge to say something came over me until I almost
couldn't think, I had to say something before it was too late.
"Kathryn, I..."
"I know." That was all she said, the final words of the Captain of Voyager. No grand speeches, no meaningful advice, no
promises, just 'I know'. It was all I needed.
I never told her, only three words and I never managed to tell her. But she knew, she always knew.
Feedback: I crave it
Silent Words:
I never told her, not outright, all the years we were together, side by side, every day. I still didn't tell her.
Just think how many sentences, how many thousands of words you must say every day, every hour. How many of them do you
suppose really matter? In the grand scheme of things. Not very many I suppose. I could have said some important words, the
most important of my life, three words, one sentence that could have changed everything in an instant. I still didn't.
Looking back I suppose I was afraid, I was always afraid. Was I pushing her too far? Was I backing off too much? Day in and
day out the thoughts crossed my mind.
She was a strong woman, no doubting that. Maybe it was all a part of the attraction. At first it was purely sexual. I was
headstrong, so sure of my own importance. She fascinated me, she intrigued me, she intertwined into my thoughts until she was
a part of my life and I couldn't imagine a day without her. By day I would watch her in her uniform, the larger than life
presence. Then by night I would remove the uniform piece by piece and I would love her the way she deserved. At first my
dreams were full of passion, writhing figures, moans, all covered in the smokescreen that always accompanied those types
of dreams, giving them the impression of being something sordid, something almost dirty. Then gradually, slowly, they started
to change, suddenly there was tenderness instead of manhandling, love instead of pure animal instinct. The smokescreen faded
and gradually dispersed until it was as if it had never been.
My feelings for her almost scared me at first. They were so deep it was as if I had loved her all of my life. I never fell
'in' love with her, I always loved her, I never hadn't loved her. She was the other half of my soul, she was my life. Every
day I handed her my life to protect and I never had a second thought. In return I gained an insight to the most special
person, woman, I have ever known. All the words in all the universe couldn't describe her. She was a Captain and a Woman.
I loved both of them because they were both her. They even sounded the same, Kathryn and Captain. I sit here now and I don't
even have a picture of her near me, but I can still recall her in an instant. That hair, tumbling down her shoulders whenever
you released it from it's prison, those eyes, sparkling, always on the verge of laughter even at the most tired moment. That
mouth, curved into her small knowing half smile and that voice, the voice that haunted my dreams, no one could ever replicate
that voice, or the soul hidden behind it.
It was our fourth year, I suppose thinking back it was natural that we should lean towards each other. Neither of us were
getting any younger and we were too stubborn to try and look for anything anywhere else. Not that I would have done. We were
lonely and tired of trying to hide the obvious. No definite words were spoken, no plans made, it was just an agreement. By
day she was the Captain and I the Commander, by night we were equals, we were lovers.
Did Voyager guess? I expect so. Voyager guessed before we did ourselves. It would have been impossible not to notice the
change, the removing of tension as it were. No-one ever said anything, the infamous betting pools were resolved and
discreetly dismantled. I knew they knew and I expect that deep down Kathryn knew as well but she was perfectly content with
the deception, she liked thinking the ship was ignorant. Looking back I don't blame her, the ship was her child, something
to be protected. I never pushed her to tell anyone, we still hadn't voiced anything, it was a silent agreement that
some nights when she invited me to dinner, I wouldn't be going home. She was the one in control, this was new territory
for her, I don't think she was used to this kind of thing, or happiness. I felt sorry for her at times, so desperate she was
to pretend that nothing was going on, she even tried to trick herself into believing that nothing ground shaking was
happening. I don't think she quite knew the extent of my feelings in the early days, if she had I expect she would have
backed away.
Six months it went on. Six months of pretending, lying, hoping beyond hope that no-one would say anything to her, that no-one
would drive her away from me. One word was all it would have taken. Just one member of the crew slipping up and making an
out of place comment and she would be gone from my arms, never to return. So precarious was my hold on her. I still hadn't
told her, she still didn't know just how I felt. Daily I tried to imagine her reaction, what she would do if I asked her to
be my wife. I suppose I underestimated her really, I was so desperate to protect her I never stopped to think that maybe she
really was as strong as she appeared, maybe she was ready for happiness.
One night I went to her as usual for dinner. She had been off duty that day but when I had spoken to her in the morning she
seemed fine. She'd joked to me that the Doctor was tired of her being so healthy and was determined to find something wrong.
Deep down I knew she was lying. She'd been loosing weight and the rings under her eyes were so pronounced. I rang the chime
for an age but she didn't answer, eventually I broke in. It was so silent, a stillness pulsing in my ears. The faint feeling
of dread that had been haunting me all day suddenly came back to me with a vengeance until I was almost shaking with fear.
I found her lying on her bed, her chest barely rising with shallow breaths. I couldn't wake her, no matter how hard I tried.
Thinking back I still can't remember exactly how I got her to the Sick Bay, I can't even remember how long I was there. I can
remember the look on the Doctor's face when he told me there was nothing more he could do. I suppose all that strength really
was just a show. Her mind was so strong, but her body so weak. I couldn't let her stay holed up in the Sick Bay, the Doctor
didn't argue. She was so light in my arms I could barely feel her. I had known for a while that something was up, I thought
that it was just tiredness, I never realised just how seriously ill she was. After all the fighting her body just simply
gave up.
There were no tearful goodbyes, no declarations of love. Somehow I knew she didn't want that. She recorded a few simple
messages, wishing people good luck and distributing a few of her personal belongings, she somehow instinctively knew what
people would need. Then she smiled up at me and took my hand. A sudden urge to say something came over me until I almost
couldn't think, I had to say something before it was too late.
"Kathryn, I..."
"I know." That was all she said, the final words of the Captain of Voyager. No grand speeches, no meaningful advice, no
promises, just 'I know'. It was all I needed.
I never told her, only three words and I never managed to tell her. But she knew, she always knew.
