AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
I don't want to spoil too much, but I do feel like my TWD readers who have not seen Voyager might need me to address something (Voyager fans already know all about New Earth), especially since I've seen a few comments about it. If you're not familiar with the way Star Trek works, let's just say there are a lot of events and "episodes." Don't get too depressed about Voyager's fate just yet. OK? I won't say more because I don't want to spoil much.
I do hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think!
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Waking with Kathryn in his arms was worth any amount of sharp pain shooting through Chakotay's back and shoulder muscles. He gritted his teeth against the discomfort. As he came fully into awareness, he realized that, through the night, he'd mostly moved Kathryn on top of him to lie against him as he lay on his back. He also became slowly aware of another problem—one that Kathryn absolutely would not be able to ignore if she gained consciousness.
Chakotay tried to figure out how to move Kathryn without her waking. Factoring in the stiffness of his muscles, her dead weight, and the fact that the cot was not nearly large enough for both of them, he decided it was impossible.
He prepared for his humiliation even as Kathryn started to stir.
Chakotay had seen Kathryn shortly after she'd been roused from sleep. He'd even woken her when she'd drifted off during times when she wouldn't allow her body proper time to sleep so it simply took it against her will.
He'd never seen her wake quite like this before, though. She woke slowly. Softly. She didn't rush the greeting of the morning. And when she lifted her head, she looked directly at him, her blue eyes staring practically into his soul.
He was prepared to give her an explanation about biology and how he meant no disrespect with the condition of his body—which she must be aware of as it made itself known between Chakotay and Kathryn. She didn't demand an explanation, though. Instead, she smiled.
"Good morning," Kathryn said.
"Good morning," Chakotay responded.
"You look tired—did you sleep at all?" Kathryn asked.
Chakotay smiled to himself. He had slept, but he hadn't slept much. Still, he wouldn't dare say anything that would discourage Kathryn from coming back. He'd gladly give up sleep and comfort just to hold her.
"Just waking up," Chakotay said. "How'd you sleep?"
"I slept wonderfully," Kathryn said, her smile making it somewhat evident that she wasn't lying in any way. Chakotay smiled back at her.
"I'm glad," he said. "If—you don't object, I was thinking that I might get Daryl to help me build a bed frame? One that's large enough for both of us?"
The color drained from Kathryn's face entirely and she sat up, pulling free of him. Chakotay held to her arms just enough to steady her as she found her feet. She readjusted her nightgown since it had become twisted during the night. In place of the colorless countenance she'd worn only seconds before, her face was flushed with red as she sat down on the side of her own cot and touched her face with her hands.
Chakotay had seen it before, but never on Kathryn. She was wrapped in true anxiety. Nearly panic.
"We don't have to," Chakotay said. "I just thought…it would be more comfortable. But if it's too much…"
"You don't understand," Kathryn said. "You don't understand…"
Chakotay immediately crossed and sat down next to her. He ignored any feelings of modesty that he might have had. This wasn't the time for that. He quickly grabbed Kathryn's hands and wrapped them entirely in his. He squeezed them, trying to ground her.
"I don't," he said, realizing this was much larger than a bed frame. "I don't. I don't understand, but I want to. I want to understand everything, Kathryn."
"You won't be able to," she said. She shook her head at him. "You won't…think of me the same."
Chakotay felt like he'd been sucker punched in the chest. The air left his lungs too fast and too completely. It didn't matter what she said. Whatever she was thinking about was causing her enough pain that it was palpable. Her pain sucked the air out of the room.
"I may not always think the same of you, Kathryn," Chakotay said, keeping his voice as steady as he could, and still squeezing her hands rhythmically in his, "but I'll never think badly of you. I'll never think less of you. I promise you that."
Kathryn laughed to herself, but Chakotay could almost hear the ice in her laughter. It wasn't sincere.
"You can't promise that," she said.
"But I can," Chakotay said. "Please, Kathryn. Tell me—whatever it is. Give me a chance to prove it to you."
For a moment, Kathryn searched his face like she was trying to believe him. She searched his face like she was looking for evidence of truth. He held her hands tightly in his and held her eyes with his. He swallowed against the ache that the pain on her face and the tears brimming in her eyes caused him. Finally, she relaxed just a little. She seemed prepared to believe him.
"I was engaged," Kathryn said.
"Mark," Chakotay said, trying to help.
"No," Kathryn said. "Well—yes, but…I was engaged before Mark. His name was Justin."
Chakotay nodded his head. He didn't really understand, but he did know that patience was a virtue sometimes and, for Kathryn, he could be infinitely patient.
"We met when he was part of the team that rescued me when I was captured by Cardassians," Kathryn said. "The year we were engated to be married, we were on the Terra Nova. It was a test flight. We crashed into an iceberg. My father and Justin were lost."
Chakotay pulled Kathryn to him and she stiffly came to let him hold her.
"I'm so sorry, Kathryn," Chakotay offered, doing his best to soothe her from old memories that were coming back.
Kathryn pushed away. She shook her head at him.
"I had a chance. I might've been able to save Daddy or I might've been able to save Justin," Kathryn said. "But I couldn't save them both. I hesitated, Chakotay. I didn't know who to save and I couldn't make up my mind and I hesitated—and because of that? They're both dead. I killed them both."
Chakotay let go of her hands to catch her face in his hands. He rubbed his thumbs against her cheeks. He felt the softness of her skin. He shook his head at her.
"Listen to me," he said, "you didn't kill either of them. The world did, Kathryn. The iceberg. The crash. You didn't kill them."
"And I didn't save them," Kathryn said.
"We've all hesitated. We've all lost. We've all made mistakes."
"I lost two of the people dearest to me," Kathryn said. "I thought I would die after that. I wanted to die—sometimes? I still want to die, Chakotay. I didn't even tell Mark that. I still feel like I'm losing my mind sometimes. Like everything's dark, and cold, and heavy."
Chakotay pressed his lips to her forehead. He pressed his lips to her cheek. Her breathing was fast and shallow and indicative of being just at the edge of a panic attack. He had seen some darkness in Kathryn—flashes of it here and there. He knew that she lived with a great deal. But a Starfleet captain often did, and Kathryn had seen her share of conflict and struggle. Now he knew she'd seen even more than he'd ever imagined before.
Her cheek was soft and salty when he pressed his lips there. She took a deeper breath with the kiss. She calmed a little. He kissed the other cheek. She drew another deep breath. She calmed a little more. He pressed his lips gently to hers to steal the exhalations of the second deep breath she drew. Then he looked into her eyes again.
"Let me into the dark with you, Kathryn," Chakotay said, "and I will help you find your way back out. Every time. A thousand times. I've been in the dark myself." He shook his head at her. "I won't shame you for it. And I won't tell anyone else about it. Not if you don't want me to."
He knew that, to Kathryn, it was important to keep up appearances. She wanted to appear immortal and untouchable. Honestly, she did a good job at both. Chakotay was only thankful, at this moment, to see the vulnerability that was underneath her carefully constructed and maintained façade.
Kathryn frowned at him.
"I loved Mark," Kathryn said.
"I know you did," Chakotay said.
Kathryn shook her head.
"I didn't love him like I loved Justin. I loved Mark—like a friend. He was my best friend. And he was there for me when I lost Daddy and Justin. Mark, my mother, my sister—without them…"
"You might have never been the captain of Voyager," Chakotay offered. "And that would have been horrible."
"I wouldn't have gotten everyone lost in the Delta Quadrant," Kathryn said.
Chakotay laughed to himself.
"In your shoes, another captain may have lost the ship entirely," Chakotay said. "They may have destroyed the entire Ocampan race to try to save themselves the trouble of exploring the Delta Quadrant, and they may have ended up inadvertently destroying themselves and their whole crew in the process. But more than anything? If you hadn't been the captain of Voyager? I would have never met you and I might've lost my own life—swallowed up by my own darkness."
"How can I help you if I have my own demons?" Kathryn asked.
Chakotay laughed to himself.
"Because every day since I've known you," Chakotay said, "I've woken up feeling like I had a purpose. I had a reason to keep going. I had something to look forward to—even if I didn't know what it was. And when I see your face? Kathryn—I have felt nothing but warmth and happiness when I see your face since the first day I met you. Even then—when you were my enemy—I felt drawn to you in a way that I could never explain. My people have a belief that every person is created with...another half. You can live your entire life without finding that person, but you'll never know completion and true happiness until you find that person."
"A soulmate," Kathryn said.
Chakotay nodded his head. Kathryn always calmed when he told her a story. She focused on his voice. His words. And she calmed. Chakotay took advantage of that fact to calm her now.
"Our translation is roughly the root," Chakotay said. "There are some plants that can exist without roots. They grow. They may even appear to thrive. But they have no roots. It's always the strongest plants that have roots—deep roots—that keep them anchored and alive. Until you find your root, you are existing, but you are not the strongest version of yourself that you can be." He raised Kathryn's hand to his lips and kissed it. "I knew I found my root the first time that you stood in front of me and everything in my body and soul called out to you. As long as you're here? I'll have my strength."
"That's beautiful," Kathryn said, much calmer than before. "But—I'm scared, Chakotay. I think—I know—I loved Mark as a friend. He never had the same pull over me that Justin had. I think I loved him because he was safe. He was outside of Starfleet. I thought that nothing could take him away. I could have the life I dreamed of having—with a husband, and children, and a home—without the worry. Mark was safe."
Chakotay laughed to himself.
"And he's still safe," Chakotay said. "Probably married and living in the white house with the picket fence. Just like you said. Just because he's a civilian doesn't make him safe, though."
"It means that I wouldn't—I probably wouldn't—ever have to make that choice again. I'd never be responsible for—killing him."
"You didn't kill anyone," Chakotay reiterated. "But if you need to feel safe, Kathryn, then trust me to do what you thought I could do as your first officer. Trust me to keep you safe. Because there's nothing more important to me than doing just that."
"I don't think you can keep me safe from…what scares me the most," Kathryn said.
"Tell me what it is, and I'll try," Chakotay assured her.
"I never loved Mark the way that I loved Justin," Kathryn said. "I thought I'd never love like that again. And—I didn't. Not until—I met you."
Chakotay's heart felt like it stopped suddenly. It felt like it lay still a moment in his chest before it began to dance with some ancient rhythm he'd never felt before—driven by a hope beyond all hope that he'd ever had.
"I love you, too," he said. Tentatively responding to the words that she hadn't quite said.
"I don't want to hurt you," Kathryn said.
"Then just stay with me," Chakotay said. "Don't push me away, Kathryn. That would be the greatest hurt you could cause me."
"What if something happens and you die?" Kathryn asked.
Chakotay smiled to himself.
"Then at least I know that I'll die happy," Chakotay said. "Fulfilled. If you'll allow me that."
"I don't want to lose you," Kathryn said.
"And you never will," Chakotay assured her. "Once we're bonded together, my spirit would be with you always. No matter what happens."
"You know that's not what I mean," Kathryn said.
"I can't promise you immortality—mine or your own," Chakotay said. "But—please don't fail to live, Kathryn, because you fear dying."
Kathryn stared at him hard. Her eyes were soft. There was so much there that Chakotay wasn't used to seeing. He treasured seeing her so open to him. He imagined how much deeper there was still left to go.
"I love you," Kathryn offered softly.
"I love you, too," Chakotay assured her.
Kathryn reached her hand up and started working the buttons at the neck of her blue nightgown like she intended to take it off. Immediately Chakotay's gut recognized the movement. He recognized something in her eyes. She was going to offer herself to him. But there was too much hurt still present in her eyes. The emotion was too raw.
He reached his hand up and stopped hers with his fingers. He shook his head gently at her.
"We have time," Chakotay said. "Forever. Spend the day in your garden." He laughed to himself. "I know you pretend to hate it, but I hear you humming there. The nurturing brings you peace. Find Carol—she's gone hunting with Daryl. Take her to clear your traps and laugh with her. Think about—everything that we've said here. Everything we've promised. The spoken and the unspoken. I'll get Daryl to help me with a bed frame. I promise you, though, that it will come with no obligations. When you've relaxed, and when you're ready—and only when you're ready—you tell me what you want for both of us."
"You don't get a say?" Kathryn asked, laughing to herself.
"I've said what I have to say," Chakotay said. "Either way, I'm still going to love you, Kathryn. You just decide how active a part you want to play in it."
Chakotay leaned and kissed her again. She returned the kiss, this time, and it took more control than Chakotay expected to pull away from her. His body showed his interest, and he didn't try to hide it. He simply got up from the cot and went to pull on his clothes, determined to let Kathryn have her time to think.
He had a bed to build—because he had a pretty good idea of what she would decide. At least, if nothing else, he had a great deal of hope about what she would decide.
