Disclaimer: Ok, a friendly one - I love the work Paramount and TPTB have done, I am just adding a little personal touch. Please don't sue.
Comment: You might have noticed that chapters come slowly as of late. You see, my professors insisted that I do some non-trek reading for my doctor's thesis (I don't know what got into them), and, in a more general way, I have decided I need to take things easy for a while. That doesn't mean I'm abandoning Kathryn and Chakotay at this point, only that the chapters will come every three weeks or so, instead of every week as it was in the beginning. I hope this will not keep you from checking in on the progress of the story now and then. I you want me to notify you when a new chapter is up, just write me a short mail and let me know : soavezefiretto@hotmail.com
Review: Use the feature on ff.net, or write me a mail - just let me know what you think, what you liked, what you think I could improve, what you hated. Two exceptions: this IS a J/C story, so comments of the "J/C is unbelievable, C/7 is much better"-kind don't really help me a lot. Ditto for "J. would NEVER try to commit suicide!" Well in my story she does, deal with it. Or better yet, write your own story...
Chapter 9: The coming true of fairy tales
Gretchen Janeway stood a the back porch, watching the sun set and wondering if Kathryn and Chakotay would be back for dinner. Probably not. For the past four days they had done nothing but walk and talk, talk and walk, and when they remembered to eat or to sleep it was at the oddest time possible. She would find them making pasta and salad in the kitchen at four o'clock in the morning, or come out of their respective bedrooms at eight in the evening, with tousled hair, Chakotay yawning a "good morning" that at least tried to be polite, Kathryn just grunting something inarticulate, probably "coffee!".
They talked all the time, with their mouths full, with their hands, with their eyes. Even when they were not looking at each other, even when for a (very rare) moment they were not in the same room, there was a communication between them. Gretchen, who had never been on Voyager and didn't know that there were times when everyone on the bridge could feel the same silent conversation going back and forth between the captain and the first officer, felt like an uninvited witness to some ancient, sacred ritual. There was something almost supernatural in the way Kathryn would turn around seconds before anyone else could hear Chakotay's footsteps in the hall, and Gretchen had to repress a gasp of surprise whenever she saw Chakotay make the same unconscious movement with his hand whenever Kathryn brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, even when he was turning his back on her and had no way of knowing what she was doing.
But it was not only uneasiness which prompted her to leave the two of them alone as much as she could. She had this secret hope that one day she would come back into the living room to find them holding hands, all flushed with childish emotion, cutting off each other's words and laughing sillily: "Mother - Gretchen - we have something to tell you!" Kathryn would adress her as "mother", like she always did when she thought the occasion was momentous, and there would be a happy glow in her eyes...
But before her daydream reached the stage where she saw her daughter dressed up in white, walking down an aisle with a bouquet in her hands, Gretchen shook herself out of it, breathing in the sharp, odourless air of midwinter. This was no fairy tale, these were two grown up persons who had suffered greatly, been alone, made mistakes, and were trying to reach out to one another, to find and offer some comfort. She knew better than to make up fancy stories for her daughter, if only because Kathryn had never shown any inclination for fancy in the first place. Even as a child, she valued hard fact over fiction, and could hardly be induced to sit still long enough to listen to the end of a fairy tale, while her sister was always pleading for one more. Only after she had turned twenty she had taken up reading for pleasure, but then with a passion, as if to compensate for all the wonders she had missed out on.
Whatever Kathryn did, Gretchen mused, she did with a passion: studying, doing research, being a cadet or a Starfleet captain, even - but no, she didn't want to let her thoughts drift that way. *That* was not something Kathryn had *wanted*, it had been - an accident, a moment of uncontrolled rage and grief. It was over, and there was no need to think of it. She shivered and buried her hands in the pockets of her thermal jacket.
"May I take the liberty of announcing that dinner is ready", the doctor's voice spoke behind her. "I don't suppose either one of our great explorers of the galaxy out there told you if we could expect them back at a reasonable hour?"
Gretchen smiled. She would never have believed she could be as fond as she was of someone as dry and uttrly irritating as the doctor.
"Well, they said something about a short walk."
"Then we might as well save them something for when they arrive at two o'clock in the morning."
As they walked towards the kitchen the doctor said: "Can I ask you a personal question?"
Gretchen laughed.
"Well, doctor! I thought you and I were already as up close and personal as it gets - without having sex, that is."
It only took the doctor a few seconds to recover. As he started putting plates and cups on the table, he retorted: "That could be arranged, you know. There are this additions I made to my holographic matrix- "
Gretchen cut him off with a stern look she didn't really mean.
"What was it you wanted to know, doctor?"
"What do you think will come of it?"
She didn't need more to know what was on his mind: basically, he wanted to know if white dresses, bouquets and walks down aisles were to be expected.
"I was about to ask you the same thing."
"Me? How would I know? You know her better... you're her mother!"
"And you're her doctor. And his. And their friend. And you've seen them and talked to them every day for the last seven years. Yes, she's my daughter, and that means I should know her, doesn't it, that I should know how to help her...? But I don't, I don't know her anymore, I don't know what she thinks, what she feels, I don't know what to do- "
The doctor put a hand on Gretchen's, which was laying limply beside the plate full of untouched food.
"But you have done so much!"
"What? What did I do except stand aside and watch her and hope she would get better?"
"Which was exactly what she needed! You were the only one who didn't expect her to be something she didn't want to be anymore, to fill a role she couldn't cope with. She didn't have to do anything to be your daughter and be loved, and just that has helped her more than any therapy I could devise!"
It was silent in the kitchen. The ancient clock ticked away one minute. Finally, Gretchen said:
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
"Look what you've done, now you've made me cry."
"Let me say that you look absolutely adorable when you cry: those squinting little red eyes, the shiny nose... it must go in the family."
"Charmer."
"It's a very recent addition to my program, do you like it?"
"Oh, I love it!"
"So - you didn't answer my question."
"What question?"
"What do you think will come of it?"
"Well, using the new vocabulary my daughter seems so fond of lately - I have no fucking idea."
"Couldn't agree more. Dessert?"
"Please."
Comment: You might have noticed that chapters come slowly as of late. You see, my professors insisted that I do some non-trek reading for my doctor's thesis (I don't know what got into them), and, in a more general way, I have decided I need to take things easy for a while. That doesn't mean I'm abandoning Kathryn and Chakotay at this point, only that the chapters will come every three weeks or so, instead of every week as it was in the beginning. I hope this will not keep you from checking in on the progress of the story now and then. I you want me to notify you when a new chapter is up, just write me a short mail and let me know : soavezefiretto@hotmail.com
Review: Use the feature on ff.net, or write me a mail - just let me know what you think, what you liked, what you think I could improve, what you hated. Two exceptions: this IS a J/C story, so comments of the "J/C is unbelievable, C/7 is much better"-kind don't really help me a lot. Ditto for "J. would NEVER try to commit suicide!" Well in my story she does, deal with it. Or better yet, write your own story...
Chapter 9: The coming true of fairy tales
Gretchen Janeway stood a the back porch, watching the sun set and wondering if Kathryn and Chakotay would be back for dinner. Probably not. For the past four days they had done nothing but walk and talk, talk and walk, and when they remembered to eat or to sleep it was at the oddest time possible. She would find them making pasta and salad in the kitchen at four o'clock in the morning, or come out of their respective bedrooms at eight in the evening, with tousled hair, Chakotay yawning a "good morning" that at least tried to be polite, Kathryn just grunting something inarticulate, probably "coffee!".
They talked all the time, with their mouths full, with their hands, with their eyes. Even when they were not looking at each other, even when for a (very rare) moment they were not in the same room, there was a communication between them. Gretchen, who had never been on Voyager and didn't know that there were times when everyone on the bridge could feel the same silent conversation going back and forth between the captain and the first officer, felt like an uninvited witness to some ancient, sacred ritual. There was something almost supernatural in the way Kathryn would turn around seconds before anyone else could hear Chakotay's footsteps in the hall, and Gretchen had to repress a gasp of surprise whenever she saw Chakotay make the same unconscious movement with his hand whenever Kathryn brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, even when he was turning his back on her and had no way of knowing what she was doing.
But it was not only uneasiness which prompted her to leave the two of them alone as much as she could. She had this secret hope that one day she would come back into the living room to find them holding hands, all flushed with childish emotion, cutting off each other's words and laughing sillily: "Mother - Gretchen - we have something to tell you!" Kathryn would adress her as "mother", like she always did when she thought the occasion was momentous, and there would be a happy glow in her eyes...
But before her daydream reached the stage where she saw her daughter dressed up in white, walking down an aisle with a bouquet in her hands, Gretchen shook herself out of it, breathing in the sharp, odourless air of midwinter. This was no fairy tale, these were two grown up persons who had suffered greatly, been alone, made mistakes, and were trying to reach out to one another, to find and offer some comfort. She knew better than to make up fancy stories for her daughter, if only because Kathryn had never shown any inclination for fancy in the first place. Even as a child, she valued hard fact over fiction, and could hardly be induced to sit still long enough to listen to the end of a fairy tale, while her sister was always pleading for one more. Only after she had turned twenty she had taken up reading for pleasure, but then with a passion, as if to compensate for all the wonders she had missed out on.
Whatever Kathryn did, Gretchen mused, she did with a passion: studying, doing research, being a cadet or a Starfleet captain, even - but no, she didn't want to let her thoughts drift that way. *That* was not something Kathryn had *wanted*, it had been - an accident, a moment of uncontrolled rage and grief. It was over, and there was no need to think of it. She shivered and buried her hands in the pockets of her thermal jacket.
"May I take the liberty of announcing that dinner is ready", the doctor's voice spoke behind her. "I don't suppose either one of our great explorers of the galaxy out there told you if we could expect them back at a reasonable hour?"
Gretchen smiled. She would never have believed she could be as fond as she was of someone as dry and uttrly irritating as the doctor.
"Well, they said something about a short walk."
"Then we might as well save them something for when they arrive at two o'clock in the morning."
As they walked towards the kitchen the doctor said: "Can I ask you a personal question?"
Gretchen laughed.
"Well, doctor! I thought you and I were already as up close and personal as it gets - without having sex, that is."
It only took the doctor a few seconds to recover. As he started putting plates and cups on the table, he retorted: "That could be arranged, you know. There are this additions I made to my holographic matrix- "
Gretchen cut him off with a stern look she didn't really mean.
"What was it you wanted to know, doctor?"
"What do you think will come of it?"
She didn't need more to know what was on his mind: basically, he wanted to know if white dresses, bouquets and walks down aisles were to be expected.
"I was about to ask you the same thing."
"Me? How would I know? You know her better... you're her mother!"
"And you're her doctor. And his. And their friend. And you've seen them and talked to them every day for the last seven years. Yes, she's my daughter, and that means I should know her, doesn't it, that I should know how to help her...? But I don't, I don't know her anymore, I don't know what she thinks, what she feels, I don't know what to do- "
The doctor put a hand on Gretchen's, which was laying limply beside the plate full of untouched food.
"But you have done so much!"
"What? What did I do except stand aside and watch her and hope she would get better?"
"Which was exactly what she needed! You were the only one who didn't expect her to be something she didn't want to be anymore, to fill a role she couldn't cope with. She didn't have to do anything to be your daughter and be loved, and just that has helped her more than any therapy I could devise!"
It was silent in the kitchen. The ancient clock ticked away one minute. Finally, Gretchen said:
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
"Look what you've done, now you've made me cry."
"Let me say that you look absolutely adorable when you cry: those squinting little red eyes, the shiny nose... it must go in the family."
"Charmer."
"It's a very recent addition to my program, do you like it?"
"Oh, I love it!"
"So - you didn't answer my question."
"What question?"
"What do you think will come of it?"
"Well, using the new vocabulary my daughter seems so fond of lately - I have no fucking idea."
"Couldn't agree more. Dessert?"
"Please."