Chapter 16 Faces amid the Stars

There was this face amid the stars, the face of a man who was older and more vulnerable than he looked. The face belonged to the con-man of Voyager. He of all people should have known how easily and just as quickly life could be changed,either by his own will and hand, or by the hands of someone or something who had more influence in one particular moment than he.
One day he'd been happily in love,the next day his life had lain shattered in front of him,
every shard bearing the image of the life he'd lived and would have lived. Life had been like a jigsaw then,
or rather like a mosaic from antiquity.

What once had been a colorful life was now broken, and no matter how hard he tried to put it back together, his grief was stronger.

One day he was a convict of Federation Penal Colony on New Zealand, the next day he was the con-officer of Starfleet's newest vessel. From then on it had taken him four years of making friends, finding back to his former self with the help of those friends. He'd fallen in love with one of them, and just when he'd thought that everything was just perfect someone with more influence had decided that his life needed changing again.

But this someone wasn't having any influence anymore, he'd gotten it back. Now it was up to him to decide which way to go. Self-pity was very convenient because one could make it responsible for the mistakes one made under its cloak.
Alcohol was self-pity's best friend, Tom knew that just too well. You could be made responsible for sinking into self-pity,
but if under the influence of alcohol, you had the best excuse for your behavior. This was also something which Tom knew only too well, and thus knew to be a vicious circle.

The day Kathryn Janeway had given him a second chance he'd sworn to himself to never make this mistake again. It was hard, but it could be done. There was his family and friends, they'd given him a second chance, and he wasn't going to let them down now. Resisting temptation was never easy, most often futile, but the shame of disappointing friends was harder to bear with than giving in. Tom knew he'd never be able to forgive himself for disappointing the people who trusted him.

Tom couldn't imagine a strong woman like Kathryn Janeway sinking into self-pity, particularly when he was strong enough to accept the fact that his new son was dying.

He could understand her, though, but only to a certain degree. This made it easier for him as well as it complicated things.

There was grief in the eyes of the face amid the stars, and a conspicuous sparkle. Even on the background of the never-ending midnight out there his paleness could be seen. His lips had turned into two thin lines,their rosy color drained because he had pressed them together too tightly.

A second face appeared next to the one amid the stars, and Tom turned to look at B'Elanna who'd joined at the viewport. Except for her determinedly set chin, there was the same expression on her face as on his. Tom knew that B'Elanna would do anything in her power to save their boy,hence the determination. But both of them knew that there was no power in this universe big enough to cure a baby whose brain was underdeveloped.

Their only hope was that little Samuel didn't have to suffer too much, and they were happy and grateful for each single day they were given to enjoy the life of their son."Hey," Tom said softly when he noticed a tiny tear rolling down B'Elanna's cheek. He wasn't sure anymore if she'd accepted the inevitability of Samuel's death. He knew her well enough to know that she hadn't given up hope yet. She was clinging to it. It kept her sane. He kept her sane, as she kept him sane.

After Odile's death Tom hadn't thought to ever share that strong a bond with a woman again, but there she was. B'Elanna had a heart of gold beneath her rough shell, and it was his task to keep it from breaking. Sure, Samuel hadn't been created out of love, but that was no excuse not to love him. The fact that his brain was underdeveloped didn't mean he didn't have a soul.
Tom wrapped his arms around B'Elanna and pulled her towards him. She accepted his offer of silent comfort and let herself go in his arms. B'Elanna couldn't cry, despite the stray tear Tom had wiped away. This didn't mean, though, that she didn't need the haven of her lover's arms,
she needed it more than anything, more than she wanted to admit.

Tom deeply inhaled the scent of her hair and kissed her part.
"What have you been thinking about?" she wanted to know."I was wondering how easy it is to wallow in self-pity," he said. B'Elanna didn't reply anything, she just waited patiently for her lover to go on. Patience had never been a forte of hers, but despite everything she was filled with a calm she'd never known before. From this calm she derived the strength she needed for her patience. She wasn't at peace, she didn't know the source of her calm. But she didn't question it, for she was grateful to be endowed with it when she needed it most.

Eventually, Tom continued his musing. "Wallowing in self-pity is easy and convenient. Janeway has never been the type to choose the easy and convenient way"
"I think I know what you're getting at," B'Elanna nodded. "What's happened isn't her fault, she knows that as well as anyone else, and yet she blames it on herself."

Tom nodded. "She's done that before. She's been faced with her own personal Kobayashi Maru more often than she's deserved. I don't think that the problem now is about having lost control."

Slowly it began to dawn on B'Elanna. "You think she uses having lost control as an excuse," she concluded."The question is ..." Tom's voice trailed off. "Why," B'Elanna finished the sentence for him. "The reason is Chakotay."

Tom smiled then, for the first time this fight. "I was hoping you'd say that. You know Chakotay better than I. It's all about Catherine and Frank now. Doc told us that there've obviously been more simulations than we would want to know. Somehow I have the suspicion that Janeway and Chakotay have been lovers in more simulations than just Sainte Claire."

"That's what's giving her a headache," B'Elanna agreed. "But this is something with which she'll have to cope on her own.""On the contrary," Tom protested. He let go of his girlfriend, something that made B'Elanna's mind go to red alert.

"What are you up to?""Living up to my promise," he answered secretively.

"What's that supposed to mean?" B'Elanna asked emphatically. It never bore any good when Tom got that cryptical. But for once, he cared to fill her in on his plan. Gently scooping up Samuel along with his quilt in his arms, he explained to the half-Human woman: "Back in Sainte Claire Miller asked me to take good care of Catherine. It's been because of my carelessness that Janeway has suffered those severe injuries. I won't let happen that again.
"Tom!" B'Elanna called after him. "That's been on the Holodeck!"

Tom turned around. "We may have been being brainwashed, but the Hirogen were never able to control our feelings and emotions. Nobody can but we." With that he left with his son his arms.

B'Elanna shrugged and sighed. This was one thing among many for which she loved him. He was having a point, but she doubted that Janeway would see it, too. Sometimes she was so damn pigheaded. B'Elanna went into the bathroom and looked for Tom's toothbrush. Somehow she had the strong feeling that he'd need it in the near future.

There was a face amid the stars, the face of a woman who was torn between love and duty.
It was the classic dilemma, had always been since woman had broken free from the confines of her home. If she allowed herself the luxury of the relationship with her First Officer, command would certainly suffer from it. She doubted that she could send Chakotay to death if necessary. Choosing his wellbeing above one of her other crew was out of the question.

If she didn't allow herself this luxury, she would break apart one day, she knew that.
No matter how often she told herself that having Chakotay as a friend was enough for her, she was well aware somewhere deep within her that she was kidding herself. All in all, it was a vicious circle,and all she could do was keeping him at arm's length.

The result of it was, that, if she felt confident and safe enough to let him closer to her, she knew that it was how it was supposed to be. But then something or someone made her realize that it wouldn't work, and she'd push him away again, a ritual that became ever more painful for both of them.

Kathryn needed to break free from this circle, that much she knew. There had to be some way to make it work, others had done it before, it wasn't as if this case wasn't unprecedented.
The question was if Chakotay was still willing to be by her side as a lover. There had been so many ugly arguments between them, and she knew that he'd suffered and withdrawn himself from her bit by bit. Kathryn had suffered then, by God, she had really suffered, but she'd never been one to speak her mind—at least not with anyone but him. And just two days before she had probably put the tin lid on it.

She tore her eyes from the face amid the stars, a face that looked so sad and sorry, so full of repulsion of what she'd done. In short, she felt sorry for herself, and very desperate.
She uncurled the fingers of her fist and looked at the little treasure that revealed itself on her palm. It was Catherine's wedding-ring. She hadn't noticed she'd still been wearing it until it had slipped off her finger while taking a soak. Kathryn wondered again who it had been that had left the ring on her finger.

Who am I kidding? she thought angrily. It must have been Chakotay. After all, he, too,
had still been wearing Maurice's ring at the briefing. And he had caressed hers—Catherine's—at the briefing when he'd tried to comfort her in front of all the others.

What am I to do? Kathryn asked herself. She didn't quite know if she should consider the rings as the Leroux', or as her and Chakotay's.

She raised her head again to look at her reflection amid the stars. Of course she didn't expect to get an answer from them, but sometimes it felt comfortable and inspiring to look at oneself. Kathryn curled her fingers around the ring again and let her fist rest on the back of her sofa.

Just then the chime rang. Grateful for the distraction she asked the guest to enter.
Maybe she just needed to get some distraction to find a solution to her problem. She could of course just go next door and talk to Chakotay, but as simple as the idea seemed—it was the most difficult task Kathryn Janeway could think of at the moment. "Come in."

The doors swished open and let Tom Paris in. He was carrying a colorful bundle, so he'd brought his new son with him. Voyager's pilot smiled at her, and sat on the proffered spot next to her on the couch.

"How are you, Kathryn?" He'd particularly emphasized her first name, and Kathryn felt anger welling up in her at this. She didn't remember ever granting him the liberty as to address her by anything other than Captain or Ma'am—and even the latter only during crunch-time. But before she could rebuff him, he held up his free hand in a pacifying gesture.
"I'm here as a friend, not as an officer."

Now it dawned on her. She had granted him the liberty to address her by her first name,
years ago, when he'd been a boy of fifteen years. Uncomfortable, Kathryn shifted her position on the sofa. Why did she feel uncomfortable in her own quarters all of a sudden? It wasn't her quarters. It was Tom's presence, his presence as a friend.

"I'm fine," she eventually replied, her tone indicating, though, that she wasn't.
Kathryn hoped that Tom would buy it, but frankly, she hadn't sounded convincing enough, even for her own taste. Tom didn't buy it. He reached for her hand resting on the back rest of the sofa, right next to the mug of cold coffee. He held her by the wrist, gently prying her fist open with a demanding stroke of his thumb. Her fingers uncurled and revealed a simple golden ring.

"Why do you say that? You don't even believe it yourself," Tom said, cupping her open hand with his palm. The revelation of the ring had told him more than a thousand words. "I don't think that's any of your business, Mr Paris," Kathryn replied sharply, and wanted to free herself from his grip. The ring went flying through the air, landing with a soft sound on the carpet.

"On the contrary, Kathryn," Tom insisted. He knew he was pushing it, but if it was the only way to get to her he was willing to use whatever means necessary. He owed her, after all, and he had yet to live up to a promise. He told her that.

Kathryn hesitated. "I can't remember such a promise."Tom sighed. Just then, the bundle he'd been holding for the whole time began to stir. Samuel, who had been sleeping peacefully until now, demanded something to eat, and he didn't tolerate any delay. "Here, will you hold him for a minute? I forgot to bring his bottle."

Before Kathryn had a chance to realize what was happening, she was holding the thrashing boy in her arms, and Tom had disappeared. "Hey!" she called after him, but it was too late.
Somewhat helpless, she looked at Samuel. He was her godson, and it was only then that she realized that she hadn't even held him yet. Why she didn't know. It was unbelievable that he looked so perfect. It was also unbelievable how natural holding him felt. Kathryn had always been a little bit afraid of holding a baby, she didn't want to hurt them, they seemed so fragile.
But when Tom had handed Samuel over to her, it was as though she'd never known this fear.

Samuel was hungry, and he did his best to remind Kathryn of that. Regardless of how often she managed to get the pacifier back into his pouting mouth, he'd always suckle for several seconds, and noticing that there wasn't any food, he'd spit it out again. When he turned his head at Kathryn's breast to see if there was some food there, it almost broke her heart. "I don't have anything for you, little one," she murmured, wincing at the boy's desperate crying. "Your Daddy's getting you some food."

Why hadn't he just replicated a bottle for his son, she wondered. Again, she nuzzled the pacifier back into his mouth. At the same time, she tried to calm him by gently rocking him back and forth, but it was no use. Samuel was crying at the top his lungs.

Finally, Tom returned with a bottle in hand. "Sorry," he said, kneeling in front of the sofa. He touched Samuel's mouth with the top of the nipple. Once the little one recognized the scent of his food, he began to suckle hungrily.

"Here," Tom said, letting go of the bottle, "you feed him." Again, Kathryn accepted without thinking. The quiet that had suddenly settled in the room was heaven. Fascinated, she watched Samuel drink. "Why didn't you just replicate a bottle?" she asked Tom.

"Nothing's better than mother's milk," he simply said. He sat on the sofa, watching Kathryn bottle feeding his son. It had been a long time since he'd last seen her that content.
The last time he'd seen her like this had been in the hall of the Cœur de Lion, when she'd kissed Miller good-bye.

"Why didn't you take him back to B'Elanna?" "She needs some rest. As do you," he added.
"Ah, and the best way to make me rest is to let me try to calm a hopelessly hungry baby?" she asked, a crooked grin tugging at the left corner of her mouth.

Tom grinned at her. "Yes. I haven't seen you smile in a long time." Kathryn's smile abated. She realized that she'd fallen into Tom's trap. The end of this little adventure with her godson had been to distract her from her brooding, and it had worked. For once, she had been able to think about something else than her own problems. "You ...," she began, but stopped herself short. "Thank you."

Tom nodded. "You know, back in Sainte Claire, Miller asked me to take good care of you"
Kathryn inhaled deeply. After all, she wouldn't get any rest. Tom could thank his lucky stars that she was holding Samuel, or else she would have ... well, never mind. His plan was working a little bit too well. "We weren't quite ourselves back on the Holodeck," she reminded her pilot calmly.

"That's what B'Elanna's told me, too. But we can't deny what's happened on the Holodeck"
Tom explained. He smoothed the quilt in which Samuel was wrapped. Kathryn simply had to realize that she was holding the best reason for his point in her arms—and the other one deep in heart.
It was his plan to make her accept the latter as she had her godson.

"The Hirogen have brainwashed us," Kathryn insisted. "Yes, but it means brainwashed,
and not soul-
washed," Tom countered. "Tom," Kathryn began, "what's happened between me and the Commander on the Holodeck is none of your business."

"I don't think so. This is affecting your command relationship, which is—if I recall correctly—ship's business and thus my business as well," he argued. "I haven't seen you as happy as you were in Sainte Claire since you've been together with Justin Tighe."

If it hadn't been for Samuel, Kathryn would have spaced Tom right then and there. "How dare you," she whispered dangerously.The worst thing was that he was having a point, but that she wouldn't admit. This didn't mean, though, that he could take any liberty he needed to reach his goal. Reminding her of Justin was such a liberty.

"I'm your friend, Kathryn,"—again he insisted on using her first name—"and as such I've got to take care of you, even if you hate it. But I owe you, and I've promised Chakotay. You can't deny what has happened."Kathryn knew very well that he was right, but still ... It seemed so difficult, and the doubt whether Chakotay would accept her apology was keeping her from going to him. "I ... thank you for your help, Tom. But I'd rather be alone right now, if you don't mind."

There. She was doing it again, withdrawing when it came to facing her feelings for Chakotay. Kathryn really appreciated Tom's help, but she was at a point now where she couldn't turn around and go back, where she just had to keep going. The route needed careful consideration.

"You sure?" Tom secured himself. He accepted Samuel when Kathryn carefully handed him back to him. The little boy had fallen asleep again, replete, content and secure as a child his age could be. Kathryn adjusted the quilt around his head, she didn't want him to catch a cold.

Kathryn looked up at Tom. He recognized something in her eyes that hadn't been there when he'd come. Although he couldn't quite put his finger on it, he was sure that it was something good. She of all people deserved some happiness, or at least the comfort of a friend.
"Thank you, Tom."

Tom nodded and rose. "Good night, then, Kathryn." Kathryn smiled at him. For the first time this evening she felt his calling her by her first name the right thing to do. It felt good.
After the doors had closed behind father and son, she asked herself if after all she was really that alone.

Kathryn's heart sank when the door finally slid open. She'd had to ring the chime four times before Chakotay answered her calls. It had already seemed wrong to her at the first push of the button. But there was no way back now. The doors opened and revealed the relative darkness of quarters with viewports. No matter if the lights were reduced to zero percent, the rooms were always illuminated by the stars outside. It was a gentle, if cold illumination, a constant reminder of the long distance from home.

Chakotay was standing next to the door, he'd had to key in the codes to open the door for her. His hair was tousled, his T-shirt and boxers creased, and his eyes still puffy from sleep. A totally washed-out appearance that was totally cute. How could one resist such a man?

"Kathryn?" Chakotay asked drowsily. Kathryn had to clear her throat before her vocal cords would work. Something which annoyed her, always had. "May I come in?" Chakotay stepped aside and let her in. He was waking up by the second. "What can I do for you, Kathryn?" He gestured for her to sit in one of the chairs by the coffee table. "Can I get you something to drink? Some coffee?"

"No, thanks. That would make things worse, I can't get any sleep," she smiled nervously.
Chakotay nodded and sat in the chair beside her. "So what can I do to drive your insomnia away"
Kathryn inhaled deeply. This was the most difficult part. It was even all the more difficult since Chakotay chose to be the perfect gentleman. Notwithstanding how often she pushed him away,
he'd always be gentle and caring. This was handy, but annoying at the same time. She'd rather he'd gotten really angry at her for once. That would make things a lot easier. "Aren't you angry at me at all?"

"Pardon?" Chakotay asked perplexed. "I keep pushing you away, I take but I don't give,
I ..." she began to list. Chakotay interrupted her. "You don't take without giving. In fact, it's the other way round."

"What?" Now it was Kathryn who was taken aback. "Accept this for everything you've given to me, and to the crew," he said, rose, bent over her and gently brushed his lips over hers. The kiss lasted for mere seconds only, and when it was over, Chakotay didn't sit back in his chair.

Instead, he crouched in front of her. "A good-night kiss. Has it driven your insomnia away?"

The tears she'd been holding back for two days now threatened to finally get the better of her. She'd been on the verge of tears in the conference room, but she hadn't allowed more than two or three to escape from beneath her lashes. "I don't ..."

"Sh, Kathryn," Chakotay shushed her. "It's okay. I know it's not easy for you." "You have no idea how hard is," Kathryn burst. "Always being the one who is in control, who has responsibility,
is so hard without ... Even I need someone with whom I can be just myself."

Chakotay sighed. What had happened that Kathryn had finally admitted this? He could very well imagine how difficult this was for her. But she'd taken the first step when she'd told him that Mark had let her go and married another woman. This had already been hard for her, and he had been happy to help her then, even when she'd pushed him away again. Truth be told, he'd thought of letting her go several times, but he'd never been able to summon the courage necessary for that.

At the same time he'd let her go, he'd let something of himself go. His father had always told him that loving someone also entailed letting go. In his heart Chakotay knew that Kolopak had been right, but it was also his heart that kept believing in Kathryn and that one day she'd let him into her life.

"I've pushed you away for four years now, but I can't do that any longer. Not after what has happened on the ... in Sainte Claire," Kathryn said. Why talk so much when actually only few words were necessary.Chakotay realized then what this was about, and his heart skipped a beat or two. But he needed her to speak it out loud, only in that way he could make sure that she had made peace within herself. He couldn't help taking her hands into his, though, as a means of encouragement. Besides, even he had to vent his feelings, particularly in situations like this.

"I've come ...," Kathryn hesitated to take a deep breath, "to apologize for any sorrow I've caused you. I'd like to give you this, and to ask you to accept it, with everything that is or might be entailed in it." Her voice had suddenly gone very soft. She reached for his hand and let something very warm glide from her hand into his.

When Chakotay opened his hand, he revealed Catherine's wedding ring. It was shiny and very warm from Kathryn's body heat. She must have been holding the ring for quite some time.
He had prepared himself for many scenarios, but he'd never imagined a situation like this, only in his dreams.

With a nervous gesture Kathryn asked him to take a closer look at the ring. Askance,
he picked it up and read what had been engraved on the inside of the ring: With all my love,
Kathryn.

For several seconds Kathryn didn't know what to make of his expression. Disbelief was the most prominent one, pain, and uncertainty; but in the end it was love, deep and profound love.

It was even more, this man's love was unconditional, something which Kathryn had still to learn to accept, but very willing to learn. Eventually, he lifted his head to tear his eyes away from the words engraved into a ring made for eternity, and look into the eyes of the woman he loved. A smile she'd never seen before was gracing his face, carved those incredible dimples deeply into his cheeks, and made the corners of his eyes explode into a thousand tiny wrinkles.
His eyes were sparkling with a warmth and love Kathryn had never seen before. She'd thought she knew his eyes, the most gentle ones she'd ever seen with a man, but now they showed her something that moved her deeply. How could she ever have doubted that they belonged together?

"Is this a proposal, Kathryn?" Chakotay eventually asked, now wide awake. He was holding the ring between his thumb and forefinger. Kathryn took the ring, reached for his hand and pushed it onto his ring finger. "Yes."

Chakotay swallowed. "Then I'll be more than happy to accept." Before either of them could think another straight thought, they were in each other's arms, holding them as tightly as they could.
Both of them could feel the other tremble as they were overwhelmed by their emotions. After what seemed like an eternity, their lips met and they kissed with all they were worth, to make sure that this wasn't just a dream after all. They had kissed before, but then they hadn't been quite like themselves.

"I love you, Kathryn Janeway," Chakotay murmured again and again, not ever growing tired of the words he'd been holding back for so long. "I love you, too," Kathryn whispered.

Neither of them knew how or when they'd made it to his bed after that. They had to get to know each other again, discover the other's body again by touching, caressing, kissing and nuzzling. Although they knew how to spoil each other, their exploring was a new experience for them because now they were conscious of who they were, and whose body they were worshipping.

With the unique skill of lovers they managed to struggle free of their clothes and took in every detail of their bodies. Their forms, broad and well muscled and petite and seemingly fragile. The color of their hair, raven and chestnut. The color of their skin, tan and pale, caramel and vanilla cream. The texture of their skin, smooth and soft as a peach skin, goose-bumped from the whispers of their touches. Their breathing labored and hot on their skin,
starving for kisses. Their bodies writhing beneath the delicacies of the other's assault.

Kathryn screamed and groaned out loud under the expert movements of her lover's tongue on her; she returned the pleasure immediately, eliciting moans and murmured words from Chakotay in a tongue she didn't understand. But as delicious as their caresses had been, they were craving for more. When Chakotay finally entered her, they were both swept away by the powerful surge of joy that surged through their bodies and by the flood of tears that mingled on their cheeks.

There were two faces among the stars, faces of lovers who had finally found to each other.
Not the slightest trace of sorrow and pain was left in their faces. "I don't have a ring to offer "you," Chakotay whispered as they lay entangled in sheets and each other's exhausted limbs,
savoring the peace of their joining.

Kathryn didn't stop trailing her fingertips across his chest. "You know, you still owe me that story." What did she need a ring for, now that they were having each other? Chakotay stopped drawing his fingers through her hair. "What story?" "The one about how you got your tattoo," Kathryn reminded him.

Chakotay sighed and remembered sharing the bed as Frank Miller with Catherine Leroux. Back in Sainte Claire, a single star had bathed them in the soft golden-red light of a late afternoon,now they were bathed in the cold light of a million stars, the time of day—or night—unimportant. The peace they'd felt then and were feeling now was the same, though."You want to hear the real thing or Frank Miller's story?"

"I'd like to listen to the longer one."Chakotay sighed, but he got the image. The longer telling the story took, the longer they'd share the bliss of the afterglow. After all,
there was always tomorrow to deal with life and death and what damage the Hirogen had caused them.

Tonight, there were only the two of them, and nothing and nobody would disturb them in their insomnia. "You remember New Zealand—or Aotearoa, the Land of the Long White Cloud. Now imagine a bay, a sandy beach and the form of a man lying still on the shore, the surf washing over his bare feet ..."