BREATHING
vanhunks
Disclaimer:
Rating: G
Summary: Janeway reflects when someone is sleeping. Very short mood piece.
BREATHING
I can tell by his breathing whether he's had
a good day, or whether the evening's lovemaking had been particularly
satisfying, or whether he just wants to feel my warm body close to his.
I can tell by his breathing that he sleeps
with his mind still alert. It moves in concert with his rapid eye movement -
short little soft puffs that could almost register as a snore. He dreams then,
or in his deep subconscious state, he's planning, strategising, or simply
creating new scenarios to entertain me.
He would be awake in the morning, watching me
sleep. Braced on his elbow and lazily tracing soft patterns on my cheek, I
would wake up to see him looking at me. I love his smile then, that early
morning smile that speaks more than words, more than his heart can let him, how
much he cares. It is a smile that says:
"I'm glad I can wake up next to you in
the morning, Kathryn."
I look at him then, try not to yawn still,
and he would know the question in my eyes.
"You know, Kathryn, there's this great
idea for a..."
Then I smile. No use in asking when he
thought of this grand idea.
He thought about it while he was sleeping.
I lie awake most
nights, just watching him sleep, and listening to his breathing. Am I paranoid?
I wonder. I know, because I saw Sam Wildman do it,
that she would touch baby Naomi just to make sure she was still breathing. So I
look at him sometimes. Just watching him. I guess I do
at times want to make sure he's alive. Why, he should be, since we made love
barely hours earlier. Still, sometimes he is so quiet in his slumber that I
fear he may have expired.
A snort escapes me. I wake him up just to
talk to him. Anything, everything, so I know he's alive. He is such a patient
man.
"Now, Kathryn, will you let me
sleep?"
He lies on his back, a little away from me,
when he's in a deep sleep. Then his breathing is low and even. There are no
dreams then, no nightmares, few concerns and mostly, my assurances just before
he fell asleep, that I love him. They are assurances that my feelings are still
the same as they were yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before
that.
It is wonderful to listen as I sidle next to
him, throw my leg across his, my toes touching his toes. I would rest my head
in the crook of his arm and then he would even in that deep slumber, without
missing a breath or heartbeat, throw his arm around me. I take in his smell,
his aftershave, and give a contented sigh. With my hand on his chest, my ear
close to the pulsing vein in his neck, I can feel the gentle vibration of his
breathing. He sleeps still, but his subconscious knew that I needed to be close
to him for a few precious moments.
When his sleep is filled with agitation, he
stirs, moves around, moaning from time to time. I know then of his fear. His
fear that I will leave him, or that he would wake up
and find everything was a dream. Me, our love, our life
together.
What a situation. I always, always imagined
that I could never be dependent upon a man. I would never have to tell him my
feelings, never open myself to pain, the uncertainties, the
total and breathless excitement of love. Love? It was
not something I could ever entertain or afford for any length of time, not now,
not here. I ran a ship, I had too great a task, and far greater the
responsibility.
So I teased, played, engaged in light
flirtations that were all non-threatening, and made no demands on my emotions.
It does not take an intelligent person to observe my actions and decide the
Captain of an Intrepid Class Starship walks down that ship's corridors wearing
blinkers. It does not take the most junior crewman to notice that though there
may be a lot of beautiful trees, Kathryn Janeway didn't see the wood.
No.
How stupid I was.
Until I stood in his arms, and felt the most
glorious sense of homecoming I had ever experienced, I never knew just how much
I denied myself...and him.
My capitulation had been final then, so
complete that I realised for the first time in five years, how empty my life
had been.
I am whole now. Of myself, I could never
attain that fullness. I needed to share all of me, something I had protected
with a blind sort of selfishness.
Sometimes I can hear his breathing, and it
sounds to me that he does so with confidence. How can one breath
with confidence while you are sleeping? As illogical as that may sound, it
seems to me that the strong drawing in of air, expelling it with equal strength
while his heavy arm is flung over me, is one of complete faith that I am his
forever. Therefore, confident.
He knows me so well.
A hand well placed, even while he's sleeping,
will elicit a kiss from me on his cheek, his forehead, his
lips. He would sigh first, then mumble something like:
"We have forever, Kathryn."
I would say:
"Keep your hands where they
belong."
I would hear that deep rumble from his throat
that sounded exactly a though he were laughing at me
when he mumbles again:
"My hand is right where it belongs,
Kathryn."
Then he would continue to explore with that
very hand, my pleasure centres.
"That's not fair," I would say
before giving in to the little delicious stabs of pleasure that already start
to consume me.
"You can punish me later..." he
murmurs as his mouth reached for mine...
Yes, that is his confidence sleep.
Most of the time though,
his breathing is just one of sublime contentment. He snuggles closer to me, buries his face in my hair,
smells me before pulling me in his arms. He casts off
his old fears and holds me so close, so close.
"Never leave me, Kathryn..." he
murmurs before he drifts into sleep.
I press my lips against his cheek, his mouth,
his hair. My fingers reach for his face and I start touching him, always ending
at the lines of the tattoo that starts at his left temple. I draw every line,
the little half circles, and I follow the action through with my lips, when I
kiss his mark.
"I have to leave in the morning,
Chakotay. I promise I'll be back."
"Witch..."
When we settle into sleep again, I think: My
warrior is at peace.
END
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