Breakfast Rock
A vignette by
vanhunks
Rating:
PG-13
Disclaimer:
Paramount owns Voyager, Janeway and Chakotay. I believe I own Breakfast Rock.
NOTE:
Breakfast Rock featured in my story "And gather dreams that never
fade away", and this little vignette is a filler of sorts for that
story. Breakfast Rock is in fact a large flat rock halfway up a certain hiking
route to the top of Table Mountain [Cape Town] and many hikers use it as a
stopping point to rest and eat.
SUMMARY:
Relations are strained between Kathryn and Chakotay on New Earth, and Kathryn
knows only one way in which to remedy the situation.
BREAKFAST ROCK
After the storm and after the insects, my mind was finally made up. I told him acceptance of living out our lives on an alien planet many years from home came sooner than I wanted to admit. From the first day, denial and refusal to give up drove me relentlessly to finding a cure and get us off this godforsaken world. It was a deeply embedded desire that made me refuse to succumb to New Earth. Acceptance was less of an option than it was a vile, foul entity I wanted to purge from my mind and soul. I hate losing control, I hated not having my ship, I hated the thought that I'd never get home.
This world was not my destiny. If destiny meant
having some idea, even vaguely of what would comprise my happiness, then my road
ahead was destination Earth, and getting there my destiny. That was not a vague
wish, but a clear sense and absolute conviction that getting home was my
salvation and ultimate joy. It was not this planet we nicknamed New Earth in a
rush of premature naiveté.
Like children we burned our excitement in
discovering our area, in setting up camp with the notion that camping out
equated with the modern conveniences of a modern shelter and all the
accoutrements designed for living in relatively luxury. I was going to set up
experiments and Chakotay was going to make my life easier. He started building
headboards, additional shelter, an outside table, a tub. All for me. Here on New
Earth, all his protective instincts and the desire do to things for me
were exaggerated. He was happiest if he could make me happy. It was a
simple as that. He was more attuned with his new surroundings than I was.
Chakotay just accepted the inevitable - New Earth as a new permanent home away
from home. Maybe it was his spirituality, an innate respect and admiration for
all things that went beyond the boundaries of science and absolutes that made it
easier for him to adjust.
He was in his element; I was trying to find my
elements.
I caught his eyes on me many times; many nights
I just listened to his restless breathing. It was the only sign - a subconscious
revelation of hidden feelings - that he was unhappy. At least, I thought he was.
Though to see him during the day, to witness his profound industry, anyone who
didn't know Chakotay as well as I did, would be forgiven for thinking that my
angry warrior was a peaceful man, at peace with his life and his surroundings.
There was never a cry, a frown or a single utterance of displeasure or
impatience. He hid it well.
I knew why.
I got very good at turning down proposals. My
life on starships, the negotiating end of life as a Starfleet officer made me
somewhat experienced at weighing options before accepting one blindly, without
any careful consideration of parameters, or consequences and benefits.
Did I anticipate that Chakotay would ask me to marry him? Perhaps.
Perhaps not. If so, then my response had been instinctive, because all the
factors, options and consequences had been thought out in sleepless nights, in
times sitting next to him on the bridge, in a friendly chat over coffee. I had
not anticipated the darkening of those eyes in deep disappointment, or the way
his shoulders sagged in defeat. Defeat. It was the second time I turned him
down. The first time had been just after Seska broadcast shipwide that he was to
father her child. I always wondered why Chakotay persisted and dared to ask me
again. Did he think that a friendly chat over coffee, a smile and a light,
flirtatious kiss would break down my resistance?
He was seething inside with unsolved energy of
which I was the cause. I knew it. He knew it. Yet, it simmered under the
surface of our civility and courtesy and adjustments to living on New Earth. We
were stranded, and no matter how civil and friendly we were, we knew it was
inevitable that we had to confront it again. How neatly we couched the pending
confrontation in open conversations, happy laughter, the simple joy of sitting
on a flat rock having breakfast! It was impossible to forget that he asked me to
marry him, that those questions still hovered too close to the surface.
He loved me and I? I thought of too many options
and parameters and consequences which obliterated any desire I might have had in
making a reciprocal admission.
Yes, I love him.
It makes it easy to say when he's not within
hearing range. I whisper the words as a mantra all the time I walk to Breakfast
Rock. He's there, I know it. A few days after the storm, Chakotay went walking,
returning in the late afternoon to tell me about a large flat rock he discovered
in a bend in the river.
"We can dive in the water from there,"
he told me, his eyes alight with excitement.
I shared his excitement. "Or we could have
breakfast there," I retorted. We were friends again.
"I think we should call it Breakfast
Rock."
"Don't forget, the idea was mine," I
replied.
The night before he found the rock he had told
me the legend of the Angry Warrior. By that time I had resigned myself to
remaining on New Earth. My contentment was tempered by occasional longing, yes.
The hope - a vague wish - of getting home was just a thought or a dream away. I
could close my eyes and dream of Indiana. It was the next best thing, a bitter
recognition of my imaginings as a poor substitute. Chakotay didn't have to know
that. All that he needed then, was that I show him I cared, that even though we
were in an unusual situation, we not cross certain boundaries. We made a pact on
that. I don't think it made him entirely happy, those parameters, but he
accepted it with the grace of the defeated.
Then last night happened. Or what Chakotay
anticipated, didn't happen. Last happened. Last night didn't happen. It's a
matter of perspective. I have come to hate my own perspective in the space of
twenty four hours. My decision this morning to do the two hour trek to Breakfast
Rock was inspired by my own need to be instrumental in making a change, by the
latent dreams of Chakotay and showing him once and for all, unequivocally, that
I needed him like my very breath. Was it always like that? An admission made
after long suppression, denials, the fight against losing control, the surrender
of all fear to love unconditionally could make peace so blissful that I just
wept unendingly this morning? The
tears had been, like our first storm, a catharsis.
But last night... Chakotay lost faith. How could
I blame him? I couldn't bear to see him unhappy, or just knowing it was there even if
he didn't show it.
What conversation there was last night, endorsed
more than what I thought in a flash of enlightened truth, my own apprehension to
connect.
Call it fear. Call it anything under the sun of
New Earth. All I knew was that in the great King Nebuchadnezzar's dream his
golden statue had feet of clay, and that the sudden vision of the king's dream
came to me too in those moments Chakotay's eyes turned dark and his shoulders
sagged. The knowledge that I would be making my life here on this planet living
in the shame shelter with a man whom I shut out once again gave me my feet of
clay. Perhaps the analogy is all wrong, but the vision persisted. It was not how
Chakotay saw me; it was how I saw myself.
Now I'm walking the path Chakotay trod on most
days to Breakfast Rock. This area of New Earth was characterized by lush,
rainforest-like, verdant undergrowth and green ferns. If it weren't for the
plasma storms, I'd say we were in paradise. The need to see to see him is
pressing, for Chakotay's eyes last night remained a constant reminder of his
pain. We had been sitting like two contented, married people, each occupied with
something. I, at my now favourite place at the table and he
opposite me.
What a strange irony.
Chakotay looked up. My heart lurched suddenly. I
felt a buzz in my ears as I anticipated his words, and considered my options.
"Kathryn, you know how I feel..."
I could see his eyes burn with hope.
"Yes...but Chakotay, I don't think - "
"We're alone here...for the rest of our
lives..."
"N-no..." Why did I stammer?
"I need you, Kathryn."
Oh, God...
Chakotay left the sand painting he had been
working on, walked round the table to my side and gripped my shoulders. It was
more a tender grasp, though I decided the touch was too threatening for the
fragile walls I built round me.
"I know we're alone. I know you - you need
me. But one day Voyager might - "
"Voyager..."
The tender grasp turned into a tight grip as he
swung me round to face him. Pursed lips, a muscle that twitched in his jaw,
nostrils that flared a little... Chakotay was suddenly angry. Funny thing as I
walk here through the forest thinking about that anger. He was not angry at me,
but it was directed at himself for losing control. The previous time he said
something - I remember only distantly the actual words - about making a fool of
himself over me.
"When will that happen? Next week? Next
year? When?" he bit out.
"I don't know! Maybe never, I suppose. I'm
resigned to remaining here. That ought to make you happy."
Chakotay's anger was palpable. I was on my feet,
still feeling his bruising hold on me as he pulled me up. For one
mad, unthinkable moment I thought he'd kiss me. He drew me closer. I felt
his hard breathing as his chest heaved, the way his nostrils flared and his eyes
gleamed with madness or love. I was unable to define which was which. Did his
lips touch mine? Did my eyes close for a breathless, giddying instant? Could his
fury have been so great that he couldn't see how I wanted his kisses? How I
waited? Was the instant over too soon?
What Chakotay knew, was that I was saying no to
him. Again.
He let go of me, turned swiftly to his side of
the partitioned quarters. He didn't come out again. I was left stunned, unable
to move, unable to run after him, hold him close and offer him solace.
So I left him alone. I'm a coward when the
moment calls for it. I shrugged, walked round to where he had been working on
his painting. I smiled bitterly. A picture didn't need to depict reality or
realism to create a mood; it could just give an impression or hint of it. It
teased the viewer and engaged him to look deeper than the lines in the sand
suggested. So it was that I saw Chakotay's very heart in his painting. I saw his
vision of me as a golden bird with beautiful golden feet flying towards him.
It was a long time later that I retired for bed.
The sheets felt cool as I slid under the covers. My head rested against the
headboard he made for me. I lay awake, listening to the sounds of New Earth.
From very far off, I could hear the primate calling, the rustle of leaves in the
breeze, and I listened to Chakotay's breathing.
I listened a long time, straining my ears to
hear him. I've always accepted that the mind and the body can sometimes operate
discordantly. Amidst strictest injunctions that the body obey the mind, it often
out of sheer exhaustion collapsed. Unable to keep awake and listen, I fell
asleep and in the mists of dark dreams a voice called me. Dragging myself to the
surface, my waking moments were spent in dire wonder at whether I really heard
the voice or whether my dream manifested the voice too strongly.
I heard it as I sat up in bed coming from
Chakotay's side of the sleeping quarters. I didn't imagine or dream the calling
of my name. Chakotay had lately been a restless sleeper, and this was no
exception. I got up quietly, walked to where I could see him in the half dark.
He was thrashing around, and his eyes were open, though I knew he wasn't aware
of me or could see me. His words were uttered in pain and sounded profoundly
sad. It was the sadness that remained with me.
"I can't anymore, Kathryn... I can't live
like this... Tired now. Can't fight..."
The words were halting, his head tossing. I was
in his dream, and I was hurting him. I caught fragments, for my mind whirled
alarmingly.
"It - is - hopeless... can't pretend...
Alive and dead... Can't touch you anymore..."
Again, I stood rooted to the spot. I heard a sob
escape him, and in the dim light I could see the beads of perspiration on his
face. Then suddenly he lapsed again into a restless slumber.
I awoke to a grey dawn, to total silence. I only
looked at Chakotay's side of the partition for confirmation that he was gone. I
had already sensed it the moment I opened my eyes. He was gone. In all the time
we had been here, I haven't known him to go on a single vision quest. I looked
on the table, saw the sand painting still pristinely beautiful, untouched,
aloof. I didn't have to wonder where he was. Lately he had taken to going alone
to Breakfast Rock, our rock that had become our meeting place, where we could
leave the shelter behind, soak up the sunshine, swim in the river and have
breakfast.
He was there. Whether he sensed that I might
come after him, didn’t matter to me. I
had looked at that sand painting and come to one blinding decision. Whatever I
was going to do, Chakotay deserved my attention, he deserved my commitment, he
deserved my love. Two hours ago in our lonely shelter my admission that I needed
him as much as he need me, the final acceptance of love without fear led to
burning tears.
Now I wished only to make Chakotay happy.
The leaves that had dried out from the morning
dew crunched beneath my feet as I walked. My heart thundered as I neared
Breakfast Rock, situated in a beautiful little clearing. The gods must have
designed the place just for us as a reward for being stranded and alone. I wore
my flat pumps, my hair was tied in a ponytail with a blue ribbon and the skirt
of my blue dress that he liked lapped at my ankles as I walked.
I reached the clearing, stood quietly as I saw
Chakotay sitting on the rock, facing away from me, staring into the distance.
One step forward...
A twig snapped. Chakotay turned very slowly in
my direction. There was no smile, no welcoming outstretched hand, not even
scepticism or wonder. Just a look.
My thundering heartbeats slowed down to normal
rhythm as I breathed in deeply to make me calm. I remained where I was standing
and slipped off my pumps. Then I untied the ribbon from my hair - a lazy,
deliberate action. My hair dropped from its restraint and fell about my
shoulders. I lifted the skirt of my dress and slipped that over my head and
dropped it at my side. I saw Chakotay's jaw twitch, even at the distance I stood
from him. Fingers that lost their tremble unclipped the bra and that joined the
dress and the shoes. Then very slowly I removed the final barrier and dropped
that too.
I walked towards Chakotay with measured steps,
my feet stinging from broken twigs and crisp leaves. I didn't care much about
that.
I knew that Chakotay needed to see an
unequivocal action from me that would forever in his mind dispel his
uncertainties and quell his old anger. He needed to see me come to him,
stripped. There were no strings now, no boundaries, no special conditions or
impediments. His eyes awakened to what he saw, assimilated my intent.
Maybe someday, I thought as I stepped onto
Breakfast Rock and into Chakotay's outstretched arms, Voyager would come back.
Maybe our crew contravened my direct order and found a cure and came to get us I
thought as Chakotay pressed me down on Breakfast Rock. Maybe they found a race
like the Vidiians and fought them hard just get to us I thought, as I watched
him slip his clothes off his body. My mind closed slowly. I had a thought that
one day, when Voyager came back, I would be assimilated into her bulkheads, her
ready room, her bridge and her command chair and I would touch the commemorative
plaque and declare that I'm glad to be back.
But for now on New Earth, this earth was ours
and this time, Chakotay's.
For now as our bodies joined in the celebration
of love, the only ones existing in our universe were Kathryn Janeway and
Chakotay.
***
END