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“I think that’s the last of it.” Chakotay’s head poked around the piles on the last shuttlecraft to leave Voyager’s launchbay. “I’ll clear you for launch in just a second, and will let y’all know when I’m ready to beam down.”
“Will do.” Tom’s voice carried as he moved through the last of his pre-flight checks. “Hey, Commander?”
“Yeah, Tom, what is it?” Chakotay moved into the narrow aisle between the last of the crew’s belongings. This was the final shuttle to head down to Starfleet HQ.
They were really back in the Alpha quadrant. It still seemed like a dream.
“I’m pretty sure the Captain is still here… somewhere. B’Elanna couldn’t find her before I came back. Would you check on her?”
“Sure. I’ll comm you if I can’t find her.”
“Thanks.” Tom tossed a smile back at his commanding officer and wiggled his eyebrows. “Here’s to hoping you don’t comm me.” Chakotay kept a neutral face as he backed out of the shuttle and shut the hatch.
He managed to keep a straight face until the shuttle had slipped through the bay’s invisible forcefield. Once it was out of sight, though, he slammed both hands against the bulkhead before leaning his head against the cold metal. Damn it, Kathryn. He wasn't sure he was ready to be alone with her quite yet.
Only one thing to do.
It was weird, walking through the deserted corridors of Voyager. Even in the middle of the night, when everyone was either asleep or at their duty stations, it had never felt this…lonely, devoid of warmth and family. Even in those early days, when they were trying to figure out how to merge the two crews, the corridors held life, emanated a vitality that reminded them they survived, were still surviving.
He dragged his fingers down the walls as he walked. Chakotay had a pretty good idea where he would find the Captain but decided to make a systematic scan of the ship in case, for once, he was wrong about her. The lower decks, engineering, holodecks and the mess hall were clear. She didn’t answer the chimes at her quarters.
He could ask the computer, or just comm her, but this seemed… a fitting ending to his time here. Caring more than he should about her, searching for her in old haunts (some known to the crew and others known only to them), wondering what he will see—or feel—when he found her… if she’s even here at all.
She wasn’t in the conference room. He only had two choices left, and he had to go through one to get to the other.
He heard the music before the lift doors opened: the soundtrack she played after dinner in her quarters, him sitting in the chair and her sprawled out on the couch. He saw her brown hair peeking over the top of her chair—the captain’s chair—as she watched a gorgeous panorama of Earth displayed on the viewscreen.
She hadn’t heard him come in.
Kathryn wasn’t in her captain’s uniform; most of them hadn’t worn the Starfleet-issued garments as they packed and disembarked from their home of the last 7 years. She wore a green cotton dress, casual and comfortable. A memory flashed through his mind, of her in another green dress.
Wheedling.
He shook his head, trying to mute the memories, to dilute their potency. They only made the pain worse.
She stood from her chair, still oblivious to his presence. Noticing the glass in her hand, he looked around for what may be in it, spying something that looked like a champagne bottle in front of her chair.
She leaned, both hands resting on the helm station. The back of her dress rode up her thighs.
How many times has he watched her in this position from his chair? How many times has he undressed her with his eyes, right here on the bridge surrounded by ensigns and officers? A few times she’d even caught him, throwing him a knowing smile or eyebrow arch. She almost always turned back around when she caught him, pushing her hips one way or another. Drawing his attention where she wanted it, as if she were for his eyes only, for his viewing pleasure. (At least, he liked to think of it as for his pleasure, because if it was for Harry, well…)
In his dreams, he’d undressed her with more than his eyes. Here, against the bulkhead by the turbolift. In her chair. In his chair. On the helm. Against the ready room doors. Enjoyable fantasies, sure, but he always came back to one in particular.
Her humming brought him back to this moment. He stayed in his semi-hidden cove for a few more minutes, watching her sway her body and tap her fingers with the beat in front of the helm. The swish of her dress pressed against her body as she moved, making it easy to imagine what those curves would look like out of that dress, what she would feel like under his fingertips. Hips curving down to thigh, a smooth, sensuous waterfall of skin. Skimming from her hips up to her waist, a waist so small—compared to his frame—he sometimes wondered if he could fully encircle it with his hands. Shoulder blades like butterfly’s wings, spreading and contracting with each sweep of her arms across her body, or his.
She never took her eyes off the viewscreen.
He took a steadying breath and tried to think of anything that would loosen the tightness in his pants. Leola root. Seska. Borg Queen. Neelix in a mud bath. Tuvok in a mud bath. B’Elanna when she’s angry. He said them on repeat.
Erection subsiding for now, he cleared his throat to get her attention. Kathryn spun around so fast the champagne sloshed in her glass, centimeters from spilling over the edge. A blush crept across her face when she saw him. “How…” she cleared her throat and tried again, “how long have you been there, Chakotay?”
He smiled, a bashful smile she hadn’t seen in a very long time. Somehow, he resisted pulling his ear. Seven had asked him once, about why he pulled his ear when he became self-conscious, and now he found himself keenly aware of it. “Not very long, Kathryn. Tom asked me to check on you since B’Elanna couldn’t find you planetside. I’m sorry if I interrupted or embarrassed you.”
Leaving crossed his mind, but he didn’t move. Another fitting tribute to his time here. Waiting for her to make a decision about where they went next.
They studied one another silently, with music swirling and Earth looming unheeded. Kathryn made the first move. “Would you like to join me? I was…remembering our journey. Reliving the good times and trying to avoid the bad ones. Trying to…I don’t know… see if this is really real or if it’s just another dream, I guess.” She tapped her hand three times and his lips curled into a small smile. “If it is a dream, I would have to wake up eventually, right?”
Her voice was steady as she spoke, but her eyes told a different story. Vulnerable. Hesitant. Almost… fearful. It had been a long time since she’d shared any of those feelings with him, and he felt his stomach clench. He wanted to hug her, tell her it’s real, allay the fear in her eyes that she would wake up any moment, returning to the crazy, unpredictable life they’d lived until about 3 days ago.
Instead, he just tilted his head forward, once again acquiescing to his Captain’s request. “I’d love to stay with you, Captain.”
“Kathryn, Chakotay. You are not my XO anymore. At least, not in any official capacity.” She hesitated, pushing her lips into a thin line before licking them. She only did that when she was anxious, apprehensive about whatever she thought to say next. He walked around the railing, keeping her just outside of arm's reach. She noticed his hard swallow.
“Oh! Would you like some champagne? Let me go get you a glass.”
Before he could even agree to the drink, she turned on her heel and practically ran to her ready room. She was gone much longer than it took to replicate a champagne glass; he was about to go look for her when she appeared with another glass… and two more bottles of champagne, a bottle of Antarian cider, and a bottle of whiskey bundled into her arms.
“Kinda nice, not worrying about rations anymore.” She grinned at him. “I didn’t know how many or what we might need, but I want to celebrate, Chakotay. Right here, just me and you. We deserve this.”
Only once had he rejected her invitation. "Consider it... cashing in on your raincheck from lunch the other day."
His reply was faster than either of them expected. "I'll save that raincheck for another day, Kathryn."
They drank and laughed and drank some more. She impersonated Tuvok at the tactical station. He imitated her in her chair until she laughed so hard tears slipped out of her eyes. They took turns doing their best Tom and B’Elanna impressions.
She laid herself out across the deck in front of her chair, dramatically re-enacting some inconsequential but hilarious disagreement between the only married couple on Voyager. After they both caught their breath, she rolled up to sit cross-legged and indicated for him to join her. He grabbed their glasses and scooted their champagne bottles over, accepting her invitation.
Kathryn refilled their glasses and popped open the third bottle of champagne, setting off another peal of laughter as the cork bounced off the ceiling and a chair before rolling… somewhere. She squealed as the bubbles overflowed the bottle, and when Chakotay laughed at her, she moved the bottle over his lap to share the abundant liquid.
Finally, their laughter settled to a contemplative but comfortable quiet, the occasional chuckle notwithstanding. They sipped their champagne, refilling their glasses until the third bottle, too, was empty. Eventually Kathryn put her glass aside and lay back, looking up at the ceiling and stretching her legs toward the viewscreen. He turned towards her, legs extended and head propped on his hand.
“Kathryn.”
Tipsy on some of the 'real stuff' one night, many years ago, she'd told him that his voice was silky smooth and dark, just like her favorite coffee. He cleared his throat.
Her eyes met his.
“Chakotay.”
“We… we should talk. About us. About… Seven.” He mentally kicked himself. That’s not how he meant to bring up this discussion.
Kathryn bolted up, rolling away from him and groaning. He didn’t have to see her face to know the pain in her eyes or how her eyelids fluttered as she rolled them at his choice of conversation. “No, Chakotay. We don’t. Not right now. Neither one of us is drunk enough for this conversation.”
A sad smile crossed Chakotay’s face. “Neither one of us is drunk at all. The bad thing about not having to worry about replicator rations is that the replicators still only give us synthehol.”
“My point exactly.” She quipped, still facing away from him.
They both sighed.
This time, Chakotay broke the silence. “Kathryn. Look at me. I don’t want to leave here, leave Voyager, without knowing where we stand. I don’t think you do either, else you wouldn’t have been here, on the bridge, drinking alone staring at Earth instead of being on it.”
There were unshed tears in her eyes when she finally turned to face him. “You sure know how to ruin a buzz, you know that Commander?”
“Chakotay, Kathryn. I’m not your XO anymore.”
“No, but you are with Seven, aren’t you?” She ground her jaw and swallowed around the lump in her throat, trying to keep the tears at bay.
“Seven and I have gone on a few dates, yes. But we’re no where near a committed relationship, Kathryn. Who knows what would have happened if we stayed in the Delta quadrant?" he ran his hands roughly through his hair. "Honestly, I don’t know what will happen now that we’re back in the Alpha quadrant. I won’t tell you that she means nothing to me because that would be disingenuous, but I will tell you this: you mean more." He emphasized the last three words, pausing for a moment before continuing. "You always have. Four…five dates won’t change that. Now that we’re actually home… I know where I stand, but… damn it, Kathryn.”
He hadn’t meant to curse at her, but the tears streaking her cheeks pushed everything else from his mind. He scooted closer to her, until knees touched knees, and ran his hands up and down her arms. It wasn’t what he wanted to do, but he wasn’t sure where their line was drawn currently. She grabbed his hands and held on tightly when he hesitated at her wrists; he squeezed her hands in return. That released a new torrent of tears. She tilted towards him as she sobbed and he caught her, drawing her against him and lying back until they were both stretched across the floor, her face against his shoulder as she draped across his chest.
He cried too, sharing her grief and spilling his own for everything that had happened—the lives lost, the traumas endured, the years spent trying to navigate an ever-growing river of sadness and pain between them, born from their insecurity and replenished by their anger.
This was not going to plan… not that there had really been a plan. Chakotay hadn’t known how to broach the subject with her, but he knew he would have. He didn’t expect it to go quite like this, though.
Sobs transformed to sniffles, which in turn became hiccups. He didn’t let her go and she didn’t move to leave. She eased a hand into his hair, rubbing his scalp, while the other traced his arm. One of his hands had wrapped securely around her waist, holding her close and steady against his body while they cried; now, the other softly traversed her back.
“I’m sorry.” She finally whispered, goosebumps appearing on his neck where her warm breath met the cooling wetness of her tears. “I’m sorry I did this to us. I’m sorry I pushed you away. I made a lot of mistakes; I have so many regrets. More than I can ever count, not that I want to try. I’m sorry I almost ruined the best thing I’ve ever had—friendship or otherwise.” Kathryn hesitated only a moment. “I don’t want to lose you Chakotay, but I understand if you want to explore whatever you have with Seven. No matter what happens, I want us to remain friends, because I still can’t imagine a day without you.”
He rolled to his side, careful to ease her down, so she could see his face.
“I’m sorry too, Kathryn.” He held her gaze, needing her to see the truth in his eyes. “I should have given you more space to breathe, made sure you didn’t feel pressured to keep up fronts and façades for me. I should have fought harder to get past your defenses after the Ransom debacle, and the second Borg encounter, and any number of other traumas that just kept opening the same scars over and over again. I should have been a better friend, Kathryn, and let all the other chips fall where they may. I’m sorry I lost sight of that, and almost lost you in the process.”
She smiled, a sorrowful smile, at him. “We make quite a pair, don’t we?”
“That we do, Kathryn, that we do.”
They continued to lie on the deck, spilled champagne soaking into their clothes and tears drying on their face. “Computer, lower lights,” she whispered as her eyes became heavy. Still facing him, she pressed her hands against his chest, letting the steady rhythm of his heart under her hand relax her into the deep, healing sleep that happens after emotional catharsis. He pulled her close as he began to relax as well, tucking her head against his neck as they both fell asleep on the deck, Earth still looming bright blue in the background.
~~
He woke slowly, the world around him seeping through the darkness a little at a time. A weight, unexpected but not uncomfortable, on his chest and arm. A twinge in his neck from sleeping without a pillow. One side of his body warmer than the other. Citrus and lavender—Kathryn’s shampoo. The weight shifted, and there was a light pressure against his throat.
Kathryn was kissing him.
Barely a brush of her lips across his throat, an instinctive action as she snuggled into him during sleep. It’s not real. She doesn’t know what she’s doing. She’s asleep.
He turned his head and whispered away from her ear. “Computer, display time on the right top corner of the viewscreen.” He glanced at the screen and sighed. They’d been asleep for a few hours now. Tilting towards her, Chakotay ran his free hand lightly up and down her back, trying to wake her slowly.
She nuzzled her nose against his throat and curled closer around him.
“Kathryn.” He whispered lightly beside her ear. “Kathryn, wake up, sweetheart.” It took a few more times before she started to respond, mostly by humming against his throat.
“Hmmm?” she asked, brain still foggy with sleep.
“We’ve been sleeping, but its time to wake up now.”
“Hmmm.” The forehead crease punctuated the low noise of disappointment.
“We’re too old for this, Kathryn, our bodies can’t handle sleeping on the floor anymore.”
“Mmm-nmmm.” Even in a sleepy fog, she resisted being told her body couldn’t do something with a small shake of her head against his shoulder.
They kept this quiet banter going until he knew she was fully awake, a slow grin creeping across her face as she resisted his half-hearted attempts to move them.
When she grabbed the wrist he was trying to extract from beneath her, he gave in, planting a kiss on her temple as he teased her. “Fine! I guess we’ll stay here until they send a search party. I'm probably going to need half the crew to get me off this floor, anyways.”
Kathryn stopped giggling. Her intense stare, palpable against his face, brought his eyes to hers.
“Kiss me again.” She whispered.
He smiled again, that bashful smile, and bit his lip in contemplation before ducking his head. He couldn’t reach her temple in their current position, so he kissed her forehead instead.
“Again.”
Her nose this time.
Her eyes closed. She looked peaceful. “Again, Chakotay.”
Her eyebrow, always arching and provoking him to do or say more.
She sighed. “Don’t stop. Please.” Her shoulders visibly tensed. “I mean… unless you want to stop. We don’t… this was…” she stumbled for words, eyes searching wildly behind their lids for the sentiments she wished to convey.
“I don’t want to stop. I've dreamed of this for 7 years.” He kissed her again, her cheek this time, before adding “but this would be easier if I had both of my hands.”
It was like that old video footage of early Earth rockets taking off. Seven years of preparation, with problems and triumphs along the way, culminated in this kiss—the spark igniting an explosion whose power propelled them through their last resistance, the pull of gravity giving way to the weightless freedom of space.
Their kisses deepened. Mouths discovered nameless tastes they’d unknowingly craved their entire lives, christening them with moans pressed against one another.
“Chakotay.”
“Kathryn.”
Chakotay finally dragged his mouth away, panting and shaking his head. “No. Wait.”
Kathryn’s lips found that spot behind his ear and a shudder tore through his body. “No more waiting.”
Another long kiss, and Chakotay managed to pin her underneath him and pull away. “No more waiting, but not right here.”
“Chakotay, there’s…” it had been a long time since she dealt with kisses that left her literally breathless. “There’s no one here. It’s okay. I’ll engage the privacy locks if you’re that worried.”
Shaking his head, clearing the last opaque wisps that clouded his brain, he finally found the words he needed. “Not right here Kathryn. I’ve dreamed of this for too long. In my dreams I’ve undressed you on every station and every square inch of this bridge, made love to you until you cry and fucked you until you scream, but there’s only one place I want to do any of that right now.”
She waited, hands moving across his shoulders, his chest, his throat as he watched her. He stood and reached down to her. His hands stilled hers as she fussed with her dress, her hair, weaving fingers between fingers.
Chakotay walked across the deck, spinning her until she faced him, mere millimeters between their bodies until Kathryn's shoulder pressed against the left side of his chest. She looked up at his face and her eyes sparked in recognition.
A soft whimper escaped her throat at the memories. She squared her hips and straightened her spine, her whisper dark and throaty. “You are speaking to a member of my crew. I expect you to treat him with the same respect as you would have me treat a member of yours.” His hand circled her waist, anchoring her where she stood. Her hand pressed over his heart, simultaneously scorching and soothing him. “We still have a lot to accomplish, Chakotay, but we did it. We got ourselves back home.”
Their time on Voyager ended in a way so similar to, yet so different from, how it began.
Unexpected.
Alone.
On the other side of the galaxy, far from where their journey began.
Standing, face to face.
Merging, two into one.
Working, together, towards a shared goal.
Coming.
Home.