TITLE: A Woman of the Borderlands (The Borderlands Trilogy #3)
AUTHOR: Brenda Shaffer-Shiring
PART: 3/3
CODES: J/C
RATING: G
DISCLAIMERS: Paramount owns the characters, the situations, and any other aspects of Star Trek: Voyager with real cash value. And if money is what you love, that is what you will receive…
THANKS TO: Diane Bellomo, my tireless beta reader, who's probably thoroughly sick of this story after having read it over so many times! Kathy Speck, my "storying" buddy, whose suggestion helped me get through a thorny plot problem. Thea Prothero, who unknowingly kicked off this trilogy by asking for a story for her club newsletter, some eight years ago.
SUMMARY: Kathryn learns that the course of true love is strewn with pragmatic obstacles. Set three years after "Return to the Borderlands."
A Woman of the Borderlands
by Brenda Shaffer-Shiring
It's not the way I hoped or how I planned
But somehow, it's enough...
Kathryn Janeway stood at the window of her tiny cabin and looked outward at the stars. For as long as she could remember, they had been her guides, and her goals, and her existence, and now, in this journey that would define the rest of her life, she couldn't help wondering if she were abandoning them. Kathryn Janeway, former captain of Voyager, lately admiral of Starfleet, settling on a planet? Surrounding herself with earthy greens and solid browns instead of this diamond-lit blackness?
In truth, she reminded herself, it had been some years since she'd spent much time in space. Though her duties had included starship and starbase inspections, as well as a few diplomatic missions, far more often the work of a Starfleet admiral had kept her feet firmly planted on Earth. She hadn't truly walked among the stars since the days of her command, these two decades gone.
But she and the stars, they had a history. If she'd still had a command, still been a denizen of star-bright space, would she ever have thought to seek another home, another love?
She didn't know. She hoped so.
The first time she'd come to this particular region of space, some six years ago, she hadn't been seeking anything. She'd been on an inspection tour for Starfleet Command, when a distress call summoned her ship to the aid of a small civilian freighter – and its captain, Janeway's erstwhile first officer Chakotay. The reunion had proved bittersweet, long-abandoned feelings struggling to surface amidst a sense of futility: his life had become so different, so distant, from her own that even renewing their friendship seemed a flat impossibility.
Three years later, she had come to this area in search of something, though it hadn't been home or love. Drawn by dreams of an injured, dying wolf (which she had somehow recognized as emblematic of a certain Native American), she'd flown to Chakotay's home planet, Metzlan. He'd been hurt in a senseless accident, and she found him in a primitive clinic, unconscious and possibly dying.
As she sat vigil, willing him to wake, she'd realized that if he did, she would have to find some way to reconcile their different worlds and their different lives. She could not leave him to die alone. More than that: having finally realizing what she felt for him, she knew she couldn't return to being alone.
Once he woke, he seemed equally unwilling to part company. Despite her resolution and his desire, after a few days Janeway had to return to her duty, and Chakotay to his work and his life on Metzlan. But they were determined that their separation, this time, should not be permanent.
Thanks to Starfleet's communications relay systems, it was easy enough for the two of them to correspond, and so they did, with a frequency that belied all the years in which neither had sent a syllable. Listening to, and watching, his messages, she enjoyed the familiar tones and the well-remembered quirky sense of humor, learned more of the details of his life, and grew used to the changes in his face and the gray of his hair. But she'd never thought correspondence would be enough, and it was not.
Visiting was difficult. Her inspection tours to the Borderlands were frustratingly infrequent, and travelling to the area on her leave time was time-consuming and more than a little inconvenient. He managed one trip to Earth, with his adolescent daughter in tow, but she knew that for him the trip was expensive, and took him away from a business that needed him.
It was on that visit that he'd decided they had to be realistic about the prospects for their relationship.
It was late in the evening, and Chakotay had finally prevailed on his daughter, Lanaya, to go to bed. Now he and Kathryn sat on her tiny balcony, wineglasses in hand and San Francisco's city lights in their eyes.
"I've never told you," he said quietly, "how grateful I am to have your friendship again."
It had the sound of leading up to something. Uncertain how to reply, she raised her glass to him and ventured, "I'm glad to have your friendship too."
"We spent a long time apart. My fault, I know." He was, after all, the one who'd chosen to leave Earth, all these years ago.
"Both our faults, I think." She was the one who'd failed to offer any reason why he should stay.
He waved that aside. "Well, after all these years I guess it doesn't really matter whose fault it is. All I'm saying is that, after all this time, we should probably just be happy for what we have."
"Meaning?" The tiny chill that went through her didn't originate from her contact with the cool wineglass.
He set his goblet aside, his dark eyes meeting her lighter ones. "Meaning that I know what you want from this, Kathryn – I know what I want from it – but I don't think we can have it. Not at this late date. This isn't like the days when we used to work together and live practically in each other's laps." He looked away, sighing. "We've both moved on. My life – everything I have, everything I am – is back on Metzlan. I can't leave Metzlan now – I wouldn't if I could; it's Lanaya's home. And your life is here, on Earth. I know you aren't about to give up this," the vague movement of his hand indicating the city, and probably Starfleet Headquarters as well, "to move to a colony world. You're a 24th-century woman, as I recall." The tic of his lips was probably meant to be a smile.
She couldn't match even that minimal effort. "I'm a 24th-century woman," she said, her voice a little thick, "who's tired of being alone. And settling for friendship isn't good enough any more. Especially not with you." Before she could think of all the good and sensible reasons why she should not – why he was right and why she should leave well enough alone – she leaned forward and kissed him. After a moment's hesitation, he met the kiss warmly, a still-strong arm drawing her into his embrace.
"Damn you," he said huskily, when they had done. "You never were one to take the easy way out, were you?"
"I can be," she said softly, remembering all their wasted years. "But not any more. Not about us."
Despite their resolution, the practical problems of maintaining their relationship remained. They were still, quite literally, worlds apart. He had financial and familial obligations to keep him where he was, and she – could she really seek out a new world, a new life, at this late date?
She knew she had to try. But first, there were obstacles she had to overcome.
Usually she and Phoebe simply conversed over the comm unit; sitting here in her sister's living room was enough to make Kathryn remember why.
There was nothing of comfort in Phoebe's well-appointed living room. In the latest fashion, chairs and sofa simply extruded from the walls, pale blue plasticine over the snowy white carpet. Accompanying tables, also blue plasticine, were each supported by one centered, crystalline leg that looked too insubstantial to bear the weight.
With an artist's sense of colors, Phoebe had dressed to match the room, in a stylish, perfectly-fitted tunic of ice-blue, and light gray tights that showed off her long legs to perfection. Her white hair was drawn back into a sleek, elegant chignon, no hair out of place. As far too often in their lives, merely looking at her was enough to make Kathryn feel plain and unkempt.
In such a perfect setting, it seemed almost indecent to talk about anything as messy as human emotions. For anything of less import than her decision about Chakotay, Kathryn wouldn't have come. But since their mother's death, Phoebe was her closest relative, and she thought she should try to make Phoebe understand.
She should have known it would be a wasted trip.
"Kathryn," Phoebe said, manicured hand on one hip, unlined eyes wide with shock, "are you serious? Moving to a colony world? At your age?"
"I've never been more serious in my life," Kathryn said firmly. She was not a little girl and she did not have to win Phoebe's approval.
"Then you've lost your mind," Phoebe said dismissively.
Some empathy, however, would have been nice. "Phoebe, I thought you knew what it was like to be in love."
Curled lashes blinked over flawlessly blue eyes. "I've been in love, Kathryn. My love didn't expect me to give up my whole life and move out to the middle of nowhere for him." Not that such consideration had done Daniel much good in the long term: Phoebe had divorced him while their daughters were still young. "And I wouldn't have gone if he had."
"If you'll forgive my saying it, Phoebe, then you weren't in love." Kathryn rose and moved to a window, hands resting on the white marble sill as she looked through the clear glass. But beyond the windows was only a series of other apartment buildings, much like Phoebe's. "And just for the record, he didn't ask me to do anything. But when we first came back to Earth, he was willing to build his life around mine, and I didn't take him up on it." She hadn't even acknowledged it, or asked herself why he stayed or what he was waiting for.
"That doesn't mean you owe him."
"No, but it does mean that I really don't have the right to ask him to do it again, don't you see that?"
"So instead you're going to build your life around his?" Phoebe's voice dripped scorn.
"No. I'm going to find a way we can have a life together."
The other woman snorted. "Kathryn, you can't tell me you've thought this through. Suppose you do go to this planet with this great and just-remembered love of your life. Then what?"
"Excuse me?"
"Then what? What do you do when you get there? I can't imagine there's much of a market for Starfleet admirals in that neck of the woods."
"I was thinking of retiring, actually," Kathryn answered frostily.
"Bull. You're the queen of workaholics – you have been since we were girls. You'd go crazy inside of a month – and God help you when you do, since according to you this place doesn't have decent medical facilities! Godalmighty, there isn't even coffee there!"
The conversation only degenerated from that point.
Whatever Kathryn might have thought of Phoebe's presentation; she had to admit her younger sister hadn't been entirely wrong in her assessment of Metzlan. Kathryn honestly thought she could manage without Starfleet (indeed, given her years in its bureaucracy she could manage without Starfleet rather nicely), and she might – though the thought had the power to make her wince – be able to manage without coffee. But Metzlan's dearth of skilled medical care had been, and still was, troubling. The situation had improved in the years since Chakotay's wife, Nakeema, had died in childbirth, but there were still precious few doctors and the clinics and hospitals were tiny. The injury that Chakotay himself had suffered, a few years back, wouldn't have caused him more than a few days inconvenience on a world with state-of-the-art hospitals; on Metzlan, it had nearly cost him his life.
Intolerable. Unacceptable. She couldn't live with that.
She wouldn't live with that. A Starfleet admiral did not merely have to accept things the way they were, on a colony world or elsewhere. So she had gotten to work.
A Starfleet admiral could bring considerable influence to bear in securing grants and endowments for worthy causes, and Kathryn had used her influence shamelessly, even enlisting Fleet Admiral Owen Paris in her efforts. (Considering that Tom Paris and his family were also Metzlan residents, the Fleet Admiral had been more than willing to be so used.) As a result, Metzlan's tiny Martinez Medical Center, where once she had witnessed Chakotay's fight for life, was now in the process of tripling in size. Kathryn's seven years of untouched Delta Quadrant pay, wisely invested, had provided an endowment to hire additional medical staff; similar offerings from Owen Paris and others, and pledges from the Metzlan settlers themselves, served to ensure that the expanded clinic would be well-staffed and properly equipped.
Kathryn crossed to her narrow bed, and reviewed yet again a certain much-read datapadd. A sober, but satisfied, smile turned up the corners of her lips as she once again read over the plans and projections. She wouldn't have to see Chakotay suffer or die if there was anything modern medicine could do to save him. Nor would he have to see her, or his daughter, in such straits.
Her medical efforts had indirectly led her to an answer for another of Phoebe's questions: What do you do when you get there? Phoebe was right (Kathryn grudgingly admitted); she couldn't handle retirement. Her love for Chakotay had not changed the fact that she wasn't cut out to be any kind of a farmer – childhood lessons about gardening aside. And she was certainly no homemaker.
Administration, however, had always been one of her strengths, with experience only honing the gifts nature had bestowed. An expanded medical facility demanded a greater number of skilled administrators, and what Kathryn had done to make that larger facility possible made her the best possible candidate for such work. Rather to her surprise, Kathryn found herself looking forward to the job; it had been so long since she'd actually had any new challenges that maneuvering the ropes of medical administration ought to be interesting.
Kathryn looked down at her clothing, still a bit surprised to see herself clad in something other than a uniform. But the pale blue blouse and darker, sturdy slacks were neat enough, and suitable to her new station.
She'd been told they were flattering, as well, which was the reason she'd selected them today. She wanted to look her best – after all, it wasn't every day that a woman arrived at her own home.
In his messages, Chakotay had told her that he'd made preparations for her arrival, adding rooms onto his home to allow her office space and a workroom. There was a new bathtub in the back room, he'd added slyly, and she strongly suspected that it would bear more than a slight resemblance to the one he'd crafted for her on New Earth, all these years ago. There had even been a mention of some Talaxian tomato seedlings for the garden.
Apparently he'd also persuaded his business partner, Tom, that it was time to take him off regular flying duty. Paris Shipping had grown large enough to need more administrators of its own, and Chakotay's skills in that area were quite as formidable as Kathryn's. So they wouldn't merely be based on the same planet, with her working at the hospital while he flew his missions; they would be together. Her heart, and her smile, warmed at the thought.
He'd been right before: this wouldn't be the life they might have had, had they yielded to their feelings for one another earlier in their lives. Some things, once lost, could never be reclaimed. But it would still be a good life. A life worth living.
On her last visit to Metzlan, she had even, finally, begun to make some headway with Chakotay's daughter.
Janeway emerged from her bedroom yawning, wishing with almost passionate intensity for a single cup of strong black coffee. (How Chakotay had managed to survive all these years on a planet without it, she was sure she didn't know.) Belting her long robe more tightly around her, she walked out to the kitchen, seeking a cup of the strong tea that her host favored these days.
She found the tea easily enough, in a bright copper-toned kettle on the little metal-burnered stove. Rather to her surprise, however, she saw little else by way of prepared food. Usually by the time she woke Chakotay had already dressed and begun cooking breakfast, but today there was no sign of either him or his work. Her stomach growled at the lack.
At the burnished wood table, Lanaya hunched sullenly over a glass of something vaguely purple, probably juice. Noticing Kathryn looking at her, she managed a little extra emphasis in her scowl.
Kathryn was decidedly not in the mood for adolescent hostility this early in her day, especially not the kind Lanaya all-too-easily generated in her presence. Only years of diplomatic training enabled her to summon the tone and appearance of civility as she asked, "Where's your father?"
"Work." At Kathryn's look, she went on to mutter, "Uncle Tom called about something at the office, some accounts or something. Dad said he might be gone a couple of hours." She finger-combed her long black hair back, irritably.
There seemed to be nothing much to say to that, so Kathryn made a noise of acknowledgement and went about getting her tea. Once fortified by a few sips of caffeine, she yielded to the importuning of her empty stomach and asked, "What should we do for breakfast?"
Lanaya's look was scornful. "Can't you cook?"
In the face of such blatant disdain, there seemed little else for Kathryn to do but draw herself up to her full height, square her shoulders, look regally down at Lanaya (something she could only do when the tall young woman was seated), and answer firmly, "No."
Lanaya's jaw dropped. Kathryn suspected the girl had been hoping for a defensive response, probably followed by Kathryn attempting to prove her culinary skills in a foredoomed attempt to impress Lanaya. The straightforward admission had clearly caught her off guard. "Not at all?" the girl managed at last.
"Not at all."
Lanaya, improbably, giggled. "You're kidding me! What kind of a colonist are you?" For once, there was nothing accusatory in her tone, only amusement. That fact alone was enough to make Kathryn smile – a trifle guardedly, true, but a real smile all the same.
"My own kind. Do you know if that tavern on the village square serves breakfast?"
"Yeah, I think so. Why?"
"Great. Unless you want to cook, why don't you go get dressed so we can head downtown? I'm buying."
Lanaya started to laugh.
An announcement sounded over the ship's comm. "Passengers and hands, please secure for landing." As per earlier instructions, Kathryn assumed her seat, waiting with less than perfect patience as the vessel touched down.
Her travelling companion met her in the corridor: Phoebe, her white hair uncharacteristically tousled, was clad in a pink pantsuit that was entirely inappropriate for the world on which they were about to debark. After Phoebe's daughters had told her about all of Kathryn's plans and preparations, the younger Janeway sister had commed Kathryn and told her tartly that she was going to Metzlan long enough to attend Kathryn's wedding, if only to see "who the hell this Romeo is to deserve the kind of trouble you're going to."
Despite the sharp words and the ridiculous pantsuit, Kathryn felt a rush of love for Phoebe. She extended a hand to steady her sister as they walked down the ramp, and smiled as she remembered how Phoebe herself had presented the solution to the last of Kathryn's concerns about Metzlan. "By the way," Phoebe had said, "if you're determined to go through with this, I need your shipping address. I owe you a wedding present, so I was thinking I might buy you a subscription to the Coffee of the Month Club."
They emerged from the passenger ship into a clear, cool Metzlan night. A little cluster of people waited at the gates to the landing field, and Kathryn easily picked out Chakotay's tall figure amongst the others. Lanaya was gathered to his side, waving as they approached, but Kathryn's eyes were all for the girl's father. Though she couldn't see his face well from this distance, she could tell he was grinning, that dazzling, irrepressible grin that had never failed to draw a matching smile from her.
She was home. After nearly three decades, she was finally home.
She looked up at Metzlan's sky, and saw a thousand bright stars shining in blessing.
And now we're standing face to face
Isn't this world a crazy place
Just when I thought our chance had passed
You go and save the best for last
-- "Save the Best for Last," as sung by Vanessa Williams
END
Feedback
Terri Stephens, I think you make an interesting point about Kathryn and her tendency to feel she has the only valid point-of-view. That's part of what I enjoyed about making her consider another view: in this case, Chakotay's.
Kalyn, thanks! I hope you enjoyed the conclusion.
Mizvoy, having read some of your J/C, I'm flattered that you like the way I handle the characters. I did think Chakotay would eventually move on if he didn't get what he was hoping for from KJ. But of course that wouldn't mean that he wouldn't be willing to reconsider once she figured things out….
Camryn, having gotten a stepmother of my own when I was about Lanaya's age, I think it will take a while for KJ and "Lanny" to warm up to each other. Hopefully I've given them a believable start.
A Lee En (love your pen name, BTW!), you couldn't have given me another compliment that would have pleased me more than what you said about the characters! Thanks.
no name given, you raise a good point, but I had really pictured the DaVinci as being too small to boast more than the most basic medical equipment (almost certainly not including an EMH).
SamMackenzie, I'm sorry I kept you waiting so long! The story turned out to need more revisions than I'd expected, and RL kept me from doing them as quickly as I might hope. Hope you think the conclusion was worth waiting for. And thank you again for the compliments about my writing style and my characterizations.
