AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
If you missed the onslaught of updates yesterday, please make sure that you go back and catch up on anything that you missed before you read this chapter.
I hope to get at least one more out today if time and my muse permit.
I hope that you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think!
1111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111
Chakotay led Kathryn with his hand at the small of her back. The touch was meant to give her some reassurance as much as anything else. Everything was visibly weighing on her. They paused only a second outside his quarters and the doors hissed open. He ushered her inside.
"You didn't have to do all this," she said, her voice practically dripping with appreciation.
Chakotay laughed to himself.
"Prepare dinner so I can eat?" Chakotay asked. "Actually, I did. It may be a little-known fact to you, Kathryn, but most beings require nourishment on a regular basis. Sit. You need to eat." Kathryn did sit at the table, and Chakotay lit the candles he'd put out before he served the wine that would accompany dinner. "I see you took the time to change back into your uniform," he said, laughing to himself.
Kathryn laughed in response.
"Are you going to report me for spending most of the day out of uniform?" She asked.
Chakotay smiled to himself. He couldn't tell her everything he was thinking. He wouldn't dare. The outfit she'd been wearing had been quite form-fitting and he, in absolutely no way, objected to following her around the ship while she was wearing it.
He settled instead, for gesturing to her to begin eating the meal that was set out before her and reached for a piece of bread for himself.
"Not at all," Chakotay said. "You've been working steadily. And it isn't every day that a Vulcan loses their emotional control and challenges a Klingon to a battle of the fittest in engineering."
"What a day," Kathryn mused. She sighed and filled her mouth, chewing thoughtfully for a moment. She hummed in appreciation of the food and made an expression of pleasure, rolling her eyes gently in Chakotay's direction. He dropped his face to study his food for fear that she'd realize that the expression, especially in his current condition, only made his mind go to dangerous places. "And it isn't over yet," she said when she'd swallowed down the food.
"It's nearly over," Chakotay offered. "I've seen to it that the Beta shift has gone off and the Gamma shift is in place. The Alpha shift remains on call, as you requested. I released the few we had held over, and I just released our civilian crewmembers who agreed, very kindly, to work even though they were under no obligation to their captain. We are, officially, operating on a skeleton crew. By now, Carol, Daryl, and Neelix will have reached their quarters along with the Beta shift that just turned in. Everyone anxiously awaits information from the captain." There was a sigh from Kathryn. "Has there been anything new?"
"I've been in and out of the labs," Kathryn said. "We don't know what it is, but there must be a compound in that cloud that we were going to explore—some compound we've never encountered before—that's causing the fever."
"An aphrodisiac," Chakotay mused.
"Strong enough to disrupt the mating cycles of some of our species with more definitive mating rituals," Kathryn said. "Even the ones with biologically controlled mating cycles."
"What are you going to do?" Chakotay asked.
"There's nothing to do," Kathryn said. "The closer we get to the cloud, the hotter the fever seems to burn in everyone. The mating concerns aside, the fever itself could reach a dangerous temperature if we keep on our current course. A high enough fever could cause serious damage to the body systems of the crew. I already requested a course change. We're moving away from the cloud. If our hypothesis is correct, we should start to see at least some improvement by tomorrow morning." She shook her head. "Nothing the cloud could contain is worth risking injury to my crew."
"And then the fever passes and everything returns to normal," Chakotay said.
"If only it happened that quickly," Kathryn mused. "We've been experiencing these symptoms for days without realizing what was going on. The highest concentration of reactions has been seen today. Even with the filters going, it's going to take time to clean the ship, and that's after we've moved away from the anomaly. We have no idea, either, how long it will take bodies to be rid of what they've already absorbed. I'm afraid we may have a few more days of chaos ahead of us."
Chakotay allowed them to eat in silence for a moment before he interrupted the quiet with words.
"Captain—if I may make an observation," he offered.
Kathryn smiled at him. He loved her smile. He loved the little hint of mischief that often accompanied it when she was feeling playful or even a little tired.
"You know I always welcome your observations, Chakotay," Kathryn said, casually picking up her wine glass and washing the flavors from her mouth with a sip of the fermented liquid.
"We're looking at a trip of almost seventy years back to the Alpha Quadrant," Chakotay said.
"We're hoping for shortcuts," Kathryn interrupted. "New developments. I hope I can get everyone home sooner."
"We'll all hope for the best," Chakotay said. "But—worst case scenario? That's more than the natural life span of many of our crewmembers. For many others, who do survive the trip, they will return home at the end of their natural lifespan. They'll return home too old to start their lives where they left off. Many will feel they're too old to start new relationships. Many will feel that they're too old to start families, even if medicine makes it possible, because they will fear leaving their children behind at too young an age."
Kathryn sunk a little under the weight of hearing, out loud, what she already knew.
"That's why I have to explore every possible avenue of getting them home earlier," Kathryn said. "I don't want to rob them of their lives."
"Which leads me to what I'm about to say," Chakotay said. "We all want to find ways to get back, Captain. As soon as possible. But it's also a good idea to prepare for the reality that we have in front of us, right now, at this very moment. Our crew doesn't have to give up their dreams and hopes for their lives—not entirely. They can live good, full lives on Voyager."
"I want them to have the best lives they can," Kathryn said.
Chakotay smiled to himself because he knew that she was sincere. As a captain, her concern was truly that her crew was happy and well-provided for. They worked for her. They did what she asked of them. But she gave everything she had back to them in return.
"Hear me out," Chakotay said. "If we're going to travel for seventy years, then we're going to have to replace the crew. Starfleet has no direct orders against fraternizing and relationships aboard starships. Even if they did, we can exercise the right to do what needs to be done for extreme situations. Captain—the need to find companionship is inherent in nearly every species with which we've come into contact, and with all the species onboard the ship. The need to mate, and to reproduce, while not inherent in all members of all species, is at least common among many of them."
Chakotay thought he saw a flush of red rising up in Kathryn's face, but it may have simply been a trick of light from the flickering candle that sat between them.
"What is your point, Chakotay?" Kathryn asked.
Chakotay swallowed back a little humor that bubbled up within him. He could make so many points. He felt he'd already made the point he wanted to make. But she needed to hear it specifically.
"We should allow the crew to live their lives. Seek companionship. Mate and breed as their natural instincts may lead them to do," Chakotay said.
"The logistics aside, it could lead to a great deal of conflict," Kathryn said. "You saw what took place in engineering today."
"I did," Chakotay said. "And I saw two individuals work out their differences while others learned about cultures that were different to their own. We're going to have conflict, regardless. At least, this way, the crew will have the opportunity to form relationships that are meaningful to them throughout their lifespans, and some of them may choose to have children—something that some individuals would find fulfilling."
"Like Kes," Kathryn said.
"Is it wrong to allow Kes to make that decision while trying to deny that choice to every other crewmember who may want to have children?" Chakotay challenged.
"I don't want to deny people the chance to have children," Kathryn ceded.
"And—what I said earlier? If we're going to keep the ship functioning during the whole of those seventy years while we return to Earth? We're going to need an entire replacement crew. The ship can support many more individuals if necessary—and that doesn't even account for the crew that we'll lose to natural causes or, even though it's an unfortunate possibility to mention, non-natural causes. In order to achieve a functioning replacement crew? Every being in an absolutely necessary role will need to produce at least one replacement for themselves. Since many members may be unwilling or undesiring of doing that—it means that those who wish to have larger families will need to pick up the proverbial slack, Captain."
"You're saying that—not only should we allow relationships, but we should promote them," Kathryn said.
"The future of everyone depends on it, really," Chakotay said. "And, if we're going to train those children—and assuming that many of them will have human-like growth rates—it's best to start seeing the growth of those families begin rather soon."
"Turn them loose to let the anomaly do its job," Kathryn said with a laugh.
"Or to simply let nature take its course," Chakotay said.
Kathryn hummed to herself. She sat in silence and clearly thought about it. She drank the wine and Chakotay poured her another glass before sliding the bread closer to her in the hope that she would remember to eat something.
He knew that Kathryn Janeway didn't care for drinking too much. She didn't like the feeling of losing her head. He also knew that she was as affected as everyone else on the ship—with the exception of Tuvok, who remained on his normal pon farr cycle and, therefore, wasn't bothered by the anomaly, and the EMH whose status as a hologram kept him from being affected by any biological influences. The fever was lowering judgement for all of them in all areas of life.
After she'd had a moment to think about what he'd said, he could see it on her features that she agreed with him.
"Do I—tell them tonight or…wait until the morning?" Kathryn asked.
Chakotay laughed to himself.
"Do you think they'd rather…start responding to their feelings now, or wait until morning?" Chakotay asked.
Kathryn nodded and touched her combadge. She requested communications, and then she requested a ship-wide channel. Chakotay sat back in his chair and listened to her. She had a way of speaking about any topic—even one as delicate as mating and reproduction—with a grace and elegance that was unparalleled. Her speech was inspired, despite her fatigue, the wine, and the subject matter. They would hold onto their hopes to return to the Alpha Quadrant so very soon, but they would also live on Voyager to the fullest extent. Though they were expected to be discreet, and public displays of affection were to be kept to a tasteful minimum, she hoped that everyone would find what made them happy. And, as their captain, she welcomed any "new recruits" that may result from the choices that crewmembers made about the lives they wanted to lead.
Chakotay must have been smiling at her as he sipped his wine and waited for her to finish her announcement.
"What?" She asked.
"That was—really quite beautiful," he offered. She clearly blushed red. It was no trick of the flickering flame.
"It's not easy telling everyone that they can go forth and—and multiply," Kathryn said with a laugh.
"It's as much about the right to be happy and find love and companionship as it is the right the multiply," Chakotay offered. "You expressed that very well."
"I do want everyone to be happy," Kathryn said. "I want everyone to have the fullest lives they can. It was supposed to be a three-week mission. And Voyager was never meant to be a multi-generational ship, but…here we are. Things really do change."
"They do," Chakotay agreed. "Constantly. Does your hope of happiness and full lives extend to senior officers?"
"Of course," Kathryn said. She smiled to herself and raised her eyebrows. "Do you—already have someone in mind, Commander?" She asked, teasing him. He smiled in response.
"As it turns out," he said, "I may."
"As far as I've been informed," Kathryn said, "B'Elanna hasn't bitten any faces to declare her choice for mating."
Chakotay hummed.
Was he really that good at disguising his feelings? Was Kathryn really that blind? Or was she simply not interested at all, and this was the easiest way to make that clear?
"If I know B'Elanna," Chakotay offered, "and if my observations prove to be true at all, there's already a face she's probably set on biting—if the mate of choice wants to enter into a relationship with a woman who's half-Klingon, that is. And—it isn't me."
Kathryn shifted a little in her seat.
"Someone else, then," she offered. She ate a bite of food like it was a chore, but it gave her something else to focus on. It gave her an excuse to pull her eyes away from his.
"Can I ask you a question?" Chakotay asked.
"You already did," Kathryn said with a laugh. Chakotay accepted the teasing as permission, though possibly reluctantly given.
"Does the permission to seek a full life extend to the captain?" Chakotay asked.
"The captain has a very specific job," Kathryn said. "To take care of the crew. That often requires certain sacrifices."
"When it's necessary that those sacrifices must be made," Chakotay ceded.
"The crew expects the captain to maintain a certain—distance," Kathryn said.
"Do they?" Chakotay asked. "Or do captains use that to justify the distance they choose to keep? Surely you can't believe that the crew would ever want to deny you happiness, Kathryn." Kathryn looked at him when he called her by name. She held his eyes. She met him, for just a moment, as Kathryn Janeway and not as his captain. "You inspire your crew to love you. They would want you to have all the best."
"You don't know that," Kathryn said, her voice catching.
"I do," Chakotay said. "You've told me that—you miss companionship. Connection beyond command. You've told me that—you released Mark at least a year ago. When you realized that you didn't want him to put off his life for you. So, you're not putting off your life for him. You shouldn't put it off for the crew, either. Did you ever want children, Kathryn?"
Her breathing was clearly elevated. Her pupils were dilated. Her cheeks were pink. These were things she couldn't control. Beyond that, though, she kept a calm control over her features. She allowed only a hint of a smile to come to her lips.
"I always really wanted four," she said.
"Four?" Chakotay asked. "It's an oddly specific number."
"It's round," Kathryn said, a short burst of laughter escaping her. "And two seemed too few, but six seemed too many."
"It's a nice number," Chakotay offered. "You could still have that, Kathryn. Nothing's stopping you…except you."
Chakotay was immediately sorry that he'd pushed so hard. He'd said too much. He'd overstepped probably a dozen boundaries. He'd felt driven—he still felt driven. Everything burning inside him was driving him. He had to hold back, though. He knew, immediately, that he'd gone too far when Kathryn got to her feet in an uncharacteristic rush.
"Thank you for dinner, Commander," she said. "It was lovely. And—for all your support in the current matter. But—I really must get back to work. I'll have the shift reports from the Beta report and…I…I really have to start thinking about the logistics of the ship supporting so many possible new people. There's so much I…I have to consider."
"You should get some sleep, Captain," Chakotay offered. "I apologize if I…"
Kathryn smiled at him with the quickest hint of a smile.
"No apologies necessary," she said. "Sleep well, Chakotay."
Chakotay fought against his instincts to reach out to her. To hold her hand and stop her from leaving until she'd heard him—truly heard him. He recognized that the instinct was little more than an animal instinct boiling inside him—made stronger by the anomaly. He let her go, instead, without another word. He blew out the candle and he went to bed.
She wouldn't fill his bed that night—and, perhaps, she never would—but she would certainly fill his dreams.
