Disclaimer: Who cares? I didn't invent them, and yes, I'm using them without permission. So what?
Comment: Well, what can I say? I already used the "writers block" excuse, so what about "real life" for this one? Existential crisis, as in "what does my life mean, what do I want to do with it"?
The truth is, I kept thinking and thinking, wrote and rewrote Ch. 8 about a hundred times, first there was Tuvok in it, then Harry, then B'Elanna... Nothing seemed to work, until I realized that maybe what wasn't working was the structure: Kathryn having conversations with different people and thinking about her life. After all, the initial purpose was to write a J/C story that would make it all better.
So I resorted to a writer's trick I had never used before - the "two months later"-trick. This is the result.
Review: Now more than ever, I NEED YOU GUYS! Are you dissappointed? Does this work at all? Which parts do you like, which ones do you hate?
Chapter 8: Dèja vu
The sense of dèja vu was so strong that Chakotay swayed on his feet, gripped by something very much like seasickness. For a moment, everything was the same: the bright morning light, her hands delicately tracing the soft green leaves, the cup of coffee beside her, the wonder in her eyes. And so, as the same emotions he had felt then welled up in him again, all he could do was stand there, and let it wash over him: the pleasure it gave him just to look at her, the pain at the distance between them, the hope that that distance might one day be overcome... Uncertainty. Sadness. Exultation. Complete with sweaty hands and shaky knees, symptoms which she - miraculously - hadn't ever noticed. Or if she had, she had been very discreet about it.
Now he would walk up and sqat beside her. The inexplicable shiver through his spine as she casually shakes the dirt off her hands. How is it that a simple gesture can fill a world with meaning and a heart with longing? They would step back into the shelter together. He would show her his design for the boat, tell her about his idea to travel down the river, do some exploring. Delight in her enthusiasm, the excitement in her voice, her closeness. And then - the communicator, Tuvok's voice. How he had hated it then, not Tuvok, but his voice, stern and impersonal, like the voice of God chasing Adam and Eve out of Eden, saying "it shall not be"...
But not this time. This time it would be different. He would lay his hand on her shoulder, turn to her gently and simply speak his heart. No legends. No metaphors. No excuses. Stranded on this planet, their hearts was all they had anyway, and that was such a relief...
Kathryn still hadn't noticed him. How long had she been lying there on the earth? She was staring past the plants into some distance he suddenly, dismally felt he could never reach, the cup of coffee cold and forgotten.
Nothing was the same. She wasn't wearing a dress, but jeans and a sweater, since this was not New Earth's perpetual spring, but late December. There were no green leaves, just the bare earth. Her hair was shorter, and where was that little, concentrated smile she smiled to herself when she thought no one was looking? And yet, her brow was clear, and that fidgety nervousness, that halo of repressed sorrow he had noticed that last time he had seen her, almost two months ago, was gone. Would it reappear when she saw him? Was he the cause of her sorrow? Well, only one way to know...
"Hello, Kathryn."
She looked up and smiled, not in a surprised way though. He had thought she would at least start a little at the sound of his voice...
"Chakotay!" Well, at least she seemed genuinely happy to see him.
"More tomatoes?"
"Well, that was the original intention." She sighed and directed her eyes back at the patch of dark earth in front of her. "But my mother told me it wouldn't make much sense at this time of year. In fact, there doesn't seem to be much that *would* make sense right now."
She patted the ground with her right hand, and Chakotay sat down beside her. He was also out of uniform, in jeans and a thermal jacket. "So, are you waiting for spring, or for a miracle?"
"Both. I planted tulips. Planted in December, there's a 30% chance that they will actually come out. I looked it up."
"30%! I wouldn't worry, for you, those are extremely good odds."
She turned her head and gave him that stern look she reserved for those occasions when she was amused by something he had said but didn't want to show it.
"Now, I don't know what you mean by that, Commander! Are you implying that I usually take reckless odds?"
"No, of course not, Captain! I wouldn't think of it."
"Good." After a pause, she continued: "Anyway, I thought the least I could do was to come out and offer a little encouragement. Who would have thought that I'd turn out to be the kind of person that talks to her plants, huh?"
"Well, your relationship with plants has always been - interesting. Don't you remember-"
"Don't go there, Chakotay, I'm warning you!"
They both laughed. "Ok, ok, sorry." Then, more seriously, he added: "It's so good to hear you laugh, Kathryn. You look - beautiful."
Immediately, he flinched inwardly. He hadn't meant to say that out loud. He had wanted to say something less personal, on the lines of you look great, in a good shape, something like that. After all, last time they had met, they hadn't separated in a nice way. Too many silences between them, too much guilt and doubt. And although (with the help of some friends) Chakotay had thrown away many of those guilts and doubts in the past two months, and although she *did* look absolutely glorious to him, he didn't want to come at her too bluntly, possibly threatening her back into defensiveness.
He had come back for her, had rehearsed a thousand speaches, ranging from the ardent and passionate to the very modest, bordering on victorian. He had tried to steal himself for anything, enthusiastic acceptance, thoughtfulness, shocked and immediate rejection. Only to discover that this, to sit beside her an hear her laugh, was all that he wanted, all that he needed right now. She was his peace. How could he ever have forgotten that?
"Thank you", she answered simply. Then she added: "It's not difficult to look better than the last time we met. I was a mess."
"Well, I wasn't at my best either. I felt like shit."
She looked up, surprised, and arched her eyebrows. He used to be so softspoken...
"Sorry. Are you scandalized?"
"Yes, a little. But - it suits you."
"What, to say 'shit'?"
"Yes. You know, I've been doing that myself. It was a therapeutical proposal from the Doctor."
"Really?"
"Yes. I felt horrible at first. I mean, a starship captain can't go around cussing and swearing like a tellarite transport pilot, can she? Even though I knew I wasn't on Voyager and officially on shore leave, it didn't feel right. Like there was someone observing me, invisible eyes, invisible hands taking notes to present as evidence in front of some invisible tibunal. He said something about a puritanic streak in my character."
"Puritanic. Now, that's something I would never have thought of."
She gave him another of those quizzical looks and shook her head. "Anyway, it seems to have worked, because now I can't fucking stop myself!"
This time they laughed so hard they fell back and actually rolled around on the ground. When she had calmed down, Kathryn jumped up and held out a hand to him.
"Come on, we'll miss lunch."
"Oh, I don't know... I don't want to intrude..."
"Nonsense. You're not intruding. And you're staying here. At least for a couple of days."
"... Am I?"
"Unless tomatoes and swearing is all you came here to talk about..."
Comment: Well, what can I say? I already used the "writers block" excuse, so what about "real life" for this one? Existential crisis, as in "what does my life mean, what do I want to do with it"?
The truth is, I kept thinking and thinking, wrote and rewrote Ch. 8 about a hundred times, first there was Tuvok in it, then Harry, then B'Elanna... Nothing seemed to work, until I realized that maybe what wasn't working was the structure: Kathryn having conversations with different people and thinking about her life. After all, the initial purpose was to write a J/C story that would make it all better.
So I resorted to a writer's trick I had never used before - the "two months later"-trick. This is the result.
Review: Now more than ever, I NEED YOU GUYS! Are you dissappointed? Does this work at all? Which parts do you like, which ones do you hate?
Chapter 8: Dèja vu
The sense of dèja vu was so strong that Chakotay swayed on his feet, gripped by something very much like seasickness. For a moment, everything was the same: the bright morning light, her hands delicately tracing the soft green leaves, the cup of coffee beside her, the wonder in her eyes. And so, as the same emotions he had felt then welled up in him again, all he could do was stand there, and let it wash over him: the pleasure it gave him just to look at her, the pain at the distance between them, the hope that that distance might one day be overcome... Uncertainty. Sadness. Exultation. Complete with sweaty hands and shaky knees, symptoms which she - miraculously - hadn't ever noticed. Or if she had, she had been very discreet about it.
Now he would walk up and sqat beside her. The inexplicable shiver through his spine as she casually shakes the dirt off her hands. How is it that a simple gesture can fill a world with meaning and a heart with longing? They would step back into the shelter together. He would show her his design for the boat, tell her about his idea to travel down the river, do some exploring. Delight in her enthusiasm, the excitement in her voice, her closeness. And then - the communicator, Tuvok's voice. How he had hated it then, not Tuvok, but his voice, stern and impersonal, like the voice of God chasing Adam and Eve out of Eden, saying "it shall not be"...
But not this time. This time it would be different. He would lay his hand on her shoulder, turn to her gently and simply speak his heart. No legends. No metaphors. No excuses. Stranded on this planet, their hearts was all they had anyway, and that was such a relief...
Kathryn still hadn't noticed him. How long had she been lying there on the earth? She was staring past the plants into some distance he suddenly, dismally felt he could never reach, the cup of coffee cold and forgotten.
Nothing was the same. She wasn't wearing a dress, but jeans and a sweater, since this was not New Earth's perpetual spring, but late December. There were no green leaves, just the bare earth. Her hair was shorter, and where was that little, concentrated smile she smiled to herself when she thought no one was looking? And yet, her brow was clear, and that fidgety nervousness, that halo of repressed sorrow he had noticed that last time he had seen her, almost two months ago, was gone. Would it reappear when she saw him? Was he the cause of her sorrow? Well, only one way to know...
"Hello, Kathryn."
She looked up and smiled, not in a surprised way though. He had thought she would at least start a little at the sound of his voice...
"Chakotay!" Well, at least she seemed genuinely happy to see him.
"More tomatoes?"
"Well, that was the original intention." She sighed and directed her eyes back at the patch of dark earth in front of her. "But my mother told me it wouldn't make much sense at this time of year. In fact, there doesn't seem to be much that *would* make sense right now."
She patted the ground with her right hand, and Chakotay sat down beside her. He was also out of uniform, in jeans and a thermal jacket. "So, are you waiting for spring, or for a miracle?"
"Both. I planted tulips. Planted in December, there's a 30% chance that they will actually come out. I looked it up."
"30%! I wouldn't worry, for you, those are extremely good odds."
She turned her head and gave him that stern look she reserved for those occasions when she was amused by something he had said but didn't want to show it.
"Now, I don't know what you mean by that, Commander! Are you implying that I usually take reckless odds?"
"No, of course not, Captain! I wouldn't think of it."
"Good." After a pause, she continued: "Anyway, I thought the least I could do was to come out and offer a little encouragement. Who would have thought that I'd turn out to be the kind of person that talks to her plants, huh?"
"Well, your relationship with plants has always been - interesting. Don't you remember-"
"Don't go there, Chakotay, I'm warning you!"
They both laughed. "Ok, ok, sorry." Then, more seriously, he added: "It's so good to hear you laugh, Kathryn. You look - beautiful."
Immediately, he flinched inwardly. He hadn't meant to say that out loud. He had wanted to say something less personal, on the lines of you look great, in a good shape, something like that. After all, last time they had met, they hadn't separated in a nice way. Too many silences between them, too much guilt and doubt. And although (with the help of some friends) Chakotay had thrown away many of those guilts and doubts in the past two months, and although she *did* look absolutely glorious to him, he didn't want to come at her too bluntly, possibly threatening her back into defensiveness.
He had come back for her, had rehearsed a thousand speaches, ranging from the ardent and passionate to the very modest, bordering on victorian. He had tried to steal himself for anything, enthusiastic acceptance, thoughtfulness, shocked and immediate rejection. Only to discover that this, to sit beside her an hear her laugh, was all that he wanted, all that he needed right now. She was his peace. How could he ever have forgotten that?
"Thank you", she answered simply. Then she added: "It's not difficult to look better than the last time we met. I was a mess."
"Well, I wasn't at my best either. I felt like shit."
She looked up, surprised, and arched her eyebrows. He used to be so softspoken...
"Sorry. Are you scandalized?"
"Yes, a little. But - it suits you."
"What, to say 'shit'?"
"Yes. You know, I've been doing that myself. It was a therapeutical proposal from the Doctor."
"Really?"
"Yes. I felt horrible at first. I mean, a starship captain can't go around cussing and swearing like a tellarite transport pilot, can she? Even though I knew I wasn't on Voyager and officially on shore leave, it didn't feel right. Like there was someone observing me, invisible eyes, invisible hands taking notes to present as evidence in front of some invisible tibunal. He said something about a puritanic streak in my character."
"Puritanic. Now, that's something I would never have thought of."
She gave him another of those quizzical looks and shook her head. "Anyway, it seems to have worked, because now I can't fucking stop myself!"
This time they laughed so hard they fell back and actually rolled around on the ground. When she had calmed down, Kathryn jumped up and held out a hand to him.
"Come on, we'll miss lunch."
"Oh, I don't know... I don't want to intrude..."
"Nonsense. You're not intruding. And you're staying here. At least for a couple of days."
"... Am I?"
"Unless tomatoes and swearing is all you came here to talk about..."