Chakotay:
Sleep does not come easily tonight, and I toss and turn to no avail. Even the usual remedies I try when I can't sleep aren't working, my mind is so wound up from our argument. I went after her for her behaviour toward me of late, but I have no idea whether it's done any good…or worse, if it's made things even more difficult. Kathryn hasn't been listening to me, and I'm fooling myself if I think tonight is going to make any difference. She certainly didn't seem to act like it did.
It takes a couple of hours, but eventually I fall into a restless sleep, and find myself in a place I haven't been for a very long time. It's the cabin that I grew up in, and I immediately take a deep breath. As it always did, it smells of bread and a just-finished meal, lunch judging by the sunlight streaming in through the window. Motes of dust float through the air, and I can't help but smile as I remember what it was like to have a home – one filled with family and a life that's seemed to elude me.
"So you've not left yet?"
I turn around and find myself face to face with my mother, who's carrying a large gathering basket filled with plants harvested from the garden. "Captain Sulu has been delayed until tonight," I tell her as I reach to take the basket and carry it to the table for her. "Then I'll be out of your hair."
She chuckles as she leans down to take off her shoes. "Oh, so that's what was weighing me down out there. I thought it was just the sun."
Suddenly, something occurs to me. "If it's going to be too awkward, I can find somewhere else to wait before Father comes home."
With a shake of her head, she joins me at the table, and rests a hand on my face. "Your father has gone to meet with Talking Wind and the council elders. He won't be back until very late this evening."
The knot of tension that had appeared with the thought of having to face him one more time eases as she makes tea. My last fight with him was huge, one in which words were said that probably shouldn't have been. But he was just so damned stubborn. In that strange way that happens in dreams, I think about how stubborn people seem to be a common thread in my life, though of course I had no way of knowing that at the time I'm revisiting now.
I watch her in silence for a while as she moves about. Eventually I ask, "Why does he have to be that way?"
She brings the teapot over and sets it down between us. "He thinks that he's protecting you."
"He refuses to acknowledge that there are things in life other than living on Trebus," I point out as she sits across from me. "I can't stay here forever."
Reaching for the ever-present clay cups that rest against the wall, she says, "Of course you can't. You are destined for something different than this tribe's way. But that doesn't make your father's feelings wrong, Chakotay."
I feel my anger start to rise at just the idea of her defending him, but I refuse to transfer it to her, and it takes a lot of effort to keep it from seeping into my words. "But he just refuses to see what's in front of him."
"Are you any different?" she calmly asks as she pours tea into two cups. "As hard as he's trying to keep you here, you're pulling just as hard to get away. And the two strengths leave no middle ground."
"But Mother, I–"
"But nothing!" she snaps in a rarely-heard tone, the pot coming down heavily on the table. It has the intended effect, and I find myself without words to say. She takes a moment to compose herself, then looks at me with eyes of steel that make her even more formidable than my father. "Chakotay, you cannot go through life expecting everyone to see things your way. You must be flexible, and listen to those around you because they may have something to say that will be of value to you." Then her expression softens, and she reaches over and pats the hand that holds my cup. "Stubbornness is a gift that runs in our family. And while it's too late for your father to change his ways, it's not too late for you." And then with a wicked grin, she sits back in her seat. "Besides, I hardly think Starfleet will let you get away with that sort of behaviour for very long."
A noise from out in the corridor wakes me suddenly, and I sit up with a start. While my pounding heart slows as the adrenaline rush passes, it occurs to me that I was dreaming, and I desperately try to hold onto whatever it was before it can dissipate. For once, the memory is clear, and I see my mother's face again as if she were in the room with me. It heartens me and saddens me at the same time; I never see my mother in my vision quests, and I miss her more than I can articulate. She was always a great source of wisdom, and a place of solace when I was a child. So when she shows up in my dreams, I know it's for a reason.
As I sit there and process the memory, it occurs to me that I was very stubborn then, because I believed so much that I was doing the right thing. My father and his opinions were not going to stand in the way of what I wanted. And with that observation, I realize that I was very much like Kathryn is now – focused on that one big goal, which will be accomplished come hell or high water, the feelings of others be damned. It almost makes me groan in shame when I realize that I've been just as unforgiving with her as Kolopak was with me. I thought I'd heeded my mother's words, but apparently I've forgotten that lesson.
My blame on Kathryn for my current state starts to waver a little. Like my mother said, I may have been pulling just as hard in the other direction, and that it's causing us to have no middle ground. Once that idea occurs to me, I lie back down, resting my arm over my eyes as I try to settle down again. Maybe there's a way to re-establish our working relationship. Or maybe just a way to be friends without the impossible expectations we seem to have created for each other. The question is how?