Eventual Thoughts, a startrek: voyager fanfic

Disclaimer: Star Trek and all of its subsequent incarnations, (including Voyager) are property of CBS Corporation and/or Paramount Pictures. No characters belong to me. No profit made. No harm intended.

Title: Eventual Thoughts

Author: kneipho
Beta: Ralkana (Any mistakes you unearth are mine -not hers.)
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: VOY
Character/Pairing Codes: J/C, references to J/J

Spoilers: Night, Workforce, Resolutions, and Maneuvers.

Captain Kathryn Janeway: Self-Reflection through a PADD
Stardate: I'm not in the mood and this is unofficial.

I have loved. I have cherished. I have reunited with a missing piece of my soul. I feel more complete than I have in a long, long time. Here, with the crew safely back on the ship, back home, here on my ship, I feel almost balanced. I feel almost human. I encountered a tangible happiness with a man of strength and ability, on Quarra. Someone created not from the imagination of one of my crewmen and reflected as a holographic fantasy, but a lovely someone born of blood and bone.

"Ship's Log. Supplemental: Captain Kathryn Janeway, ever-faithful Starfleet lackey, (while under the influence of memory altering aliens), engaged in a romantic liaison AND STILL managed to remain in sync with the rules of Starfleet propriety. "

That would make an interesting entry, wouldn't it?

Yesterday over dinner, I talked with Chakotay about what happened. We sat at opposite ends of the dinner table, the lights low. He listened as I spoke, spoke in detail of this life I had—this man I let crawl around inside me, while Chakotay and I were apart and living our separate realities. How now that all the emotional dust has settled, I feel somewhat restored.

"Welcome back, Kathryn," was all he said. Then he grinned. He looked so pleased, happy that I have again found a missing chunk of the person I used to be. And it moved me—for I saw something unguarded in his face, something I have not seen in many years.

His true smile: the private secret smile that moves past his dimples and sparkles deep within the circles of his eyes.

I felt his pleasure for me. A tenderness of feeling radiated through his gaze and moored us together, made me part of him for a moment. Like I used to be. Then it was gone.

During the first years our journey, we inspired one another, Chakotay and I. Our energy flowed back and forth, fusing us together. It sustained the balance of our command and more. Conjoined together, we were strong. But the Delta Quadrant is an isolated and scary place. There is no shining Starfleet beacon to light the way when the shadows overwhelm you. Balance must be maintained. It is crucial when surrounded by chaos. Here, symbiosis can be a captain's fatal weakness if it loses its reciprocity. I learned that lesson years ago during those terrible weeks in the void. In that dismal pocket of infinite night, Chakotay was my rock. Back then, he could deny me nothing. It was so simple to surrender to depression and let him shoulder my responsibilities.

A Leader must never be weak.

In the aftermath of that experience, our administrative team transformed into a singular manifestation. I drained as much vigor and potency from our alliance as I could. It was inevitable. It was a necessity.

It was so easy.

Seska taught me that: how easy it is to maneuver such a sound man. I turned to others for advice, to Tuvok as before and then to Seven. I left him behind on away missions, his ever-present presence on my Bridge speaking volumes to the crew. It felt good. It felt good to infuse my tattered ego with his blemishes. I became a better captain, more defined: A Delta Quadrant Captain capable of molding a man like Chakotay into the kind of first officer Voyager needed. A first officer capable of keeping his emotions tucked away from his decision-making process on the Bridge, even when the captain could not.

An instructor at the Academy (I forget who, exactly) used to say, "A leader must be larger than life to inspire proper motivation. Whatever one's failings, always stand tall and the crew will stand on its own." And I have. We all have. Chakotay has stood too, but he has sat as well, solid, stoic and supportive —something inside him gone cold, like the hull on the outside of my ship.

We are all still alive.

My memory is once again my own; my imaginary life with Jaffen collapsed—a house of cards in the wind. I am back on my ship playing self-imposed solitaire. At least I was until someone smiled.

Last night, I went to bed and dreamt, dreamt of an open garden kept alive only in my memories. I dreamt of curling green vines surrounded by weeds. Of corpulent worms with gleaming teeth and mechanical legs. They had bulging eyes. I remember seeing blood on my hands and screaming, then giggling hysterically when I realized the blood was only dirt. I felt grime under my nails, smelled the scent of the earth. I heard distant shouts of shared amusement, felt the vibrations of physical intimacy. I had knowledge of an indescribable passion and felt the connection of real love.

I woke up held down by the twisted sheets of my own bed, startled by the simplicity of understanding. Separation has made a difference. Being off this vessel and involved with someone very different from my First Officer has made a difference.

I am bold. He is able. We are not alone.