Who comforts the comforter?
a new story by
vanhunks
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Paramount owns the characters Janeway and Chakotay.
NOTE: From two POVs. I haven't done this kind of account in a very long time. Kathryn's perspective first, then that of Chakotay.
SUMMARY: Kathryn is distressed by the letter she received from her fiancé Mark and the news that he had moved on and married someone else. Chakotay offers comfort.
WHO COMFORTS THE COMFORTER?
KATHRYN
Alpha Shift on Voyager brought with it movement with crew dashing off in all directions to assume their duties for the day. Tom was already at the conn, bristling with renewed energy. In fact everyone looked different this morning. Tuvok's shoulders appeared more erect, squared. His eyes were focused on the viewscreen even though there was just the darkness that stretched endlessly before them. If she didn't know him so well, she could have sworn there was anticipation in his eyes. No censure came from him when the light buzz of conversation filled the bridge.
The darkness was different this time. No longer was there the dread lurking that they would never see home again. Yesterday had changed it, she knew. Mike Ayala had a smile on his face that looked like it would remain there for the next three months. Earlier Harry had teased him about his newfound and obvious joy and Mike had retained his equability.
It always amazed her how well the Maquis and Starfleet had merged to form a Voyager crew, one that had Voyager and her smooth daily running as a common goal. It was hard to separate the two groups these days. She knew that one day when they reached home, a distinction would have to be made, one that would hail one group as heroes and send the other group to jail. For now, there existed only a warm camaraderie and genuine feeling of oneness among them. Some of them had paired off, like Tom and B'Elanna. Tom had remarked to her how much closer to home they all felt now, after the first communications had come through.
Home.
The thought of it rushed like a wild rushing stream through her, causing again a slight change in her breathing, the increase of her pulse rate and the heat to rise in her cheeks.
Twenty four hours ago they had made a major breakthrough, and several crew had received letters from home. Not all received communication and those who didn't were just as happy for those who heard from home.
Kathryn closed her eyes. Mark's letter had been devastating, forcing her once and for all to accept that they were in the Delta Quadrant, still too far from home and away from their loved ones. Her hard fought tenacity to believe that they'd be home soon one day, corroded by Mark's letter that reminded her he was in San Francisco and she thousands of light-years away in the Delta Quadrant. When she flicked on her PADD her heart had burst with excitement the moment she began to read the first few lines… She emitted a little sigh. The shock and disappointment as she read on had gradually entered her body, filling her heart and her mind and blocking out all joy.
She had loved Mark, had been his lover; they were engaged to be married. Now, there was nothing. Like a chasm too deep to contemplate her life and future lay before her. She was alone, her heart battered by her loss.
There was no other person with whom she could share her pain than Chakotay who had stood motionless at first regarding her. At first she had been flippant, making it out as nothing, but Chakotay was not fooled. The moment he touched her hand to offer solace, her strength vanished. Her first officer had missed nothing.
Chakotay who heard her soft, muffled crying last night and came to her quarters to comfort her. Chakotay who sat tight-lipped next to her now, appearing like one who wanted to forget what had happened in those hours that followed.
Last night, Chakotay…
**********
Mark's letter had devastated her more than she cared to admit, the brave face she put up lasting until she could escape into the refuge of her quarters. She had paced the floor, her last conversation with Chakotay earlier the day still ringing in her ears. She had told him about safety nets, that Mark was her comfort zone, that she had loved him and had hoped to make a home with him one day.
Now that was all gone.
That Mark married someone else had been a blow. She felt cheated, had been conceited to think that Mark loved her enough to wait for her. Chakotay had been understanding, telling her that it was natural for people to move on, especially if they had given up Voyager's crew for dead. Chakotay was good at that sort of advice. Hadn't he made her believe that they could make a home on New Earth? Her love and devotion to a fiancé far away in the Alpha Quadrant was what kept her from foolishly entertaining the
notion of accepting Chakotay's well-meaning counsel, of dwelling on the idea that she could make a home with another man.
Her quarters felt suddenly cold, uninhabitable. Restlessly she paced the floor, not knowing what to do with herself. Up until now Mark had been her beacon, the light she moved towards which kept her hope bright and flaring that they would reach home. The thought of dinner nauseated her and sitting down to read was equally unpalatable. She couldn't concentrate, images of her and Mark together, happier times, even the times they had arguments; the days as a young girl she had disliked him with the fierce selfishness of youth, she craved for now. She had clung steadfastly to the reality that he was there, in her life, as her safety net.
Home and Mark.
Her resolve not to weep stupidly like a teenager, or show any weakness; the resolve that she had to keep her emotions under strict control for the sake of her crew who needed her now more than ever, finally broke.
She had slumped on her couch and wept a few minutes. They were heated, angry tears; she was angry that Mark left her behind, angry that he had afforded himself the luxury of moving on. She had to move on, yes, onwards towards home, caring for a crew that depended on her. She had dried her cheeks, became calm enough to change, shower and get ready for bed where she dreamed of Mark, of his gentle manners and kind face, his presence. She dreamed of him in another woman's arms, seeing them embrace, kiss, making love. A woman without a face, a shadow, a vision of nothingness, yet so palpable that she could reach outside her dream and touch the stranger. She had wanted to step out of her dream and embrace reality, however dark it was, but she couldn't move, standing rooted at the bottom end of their bed.
Then the two of them had looked at her where she had been standing at the bottom end of the bed she and Mark had shared. There was no surprise on their faces, no shock, only indignation that she intruded on their happiness.
"Who is she, Mark, darling?" the woman without the face asked, clearly irritated by her presence.
"Don't worry about her. Make love to me…"
They kissed passionately, ignoring her for the next few moments. Her heart broke; it refused to let her wake up and move away from the pain.
"No, tell me who she is or she won't leave us alone," the Faceless One ordered Mark.
They sat up in bed, Mark taking the Faceless One in his arms and kissing her forehead with gentleness.
"Her name is Kathryn. We were engaged once. I told you, remember?"
"Kathryn? Where is she now? Make her go away, please."
Mark rolled off his wife and looked long, heavy moments at Kathryn. He sighed, then pulled the Faceless One down on the bed again, drowning her in kisses. When he lifted his head briefly, she was still standing rooted to the floor, watching them with pain in her heart.
"Don't worry about her, darling. Kathryn Janeway is dead."
Dead…dead…dead…dead…
In her dream, surreal reality, she watched her former lover make love to his new wife. She wanted to scream, to leave the reality of the dream and enter her own cold realm, but her feet were glued to the floor.
I'm not dead...
"You're dead to me, Kathryn..." she heard Mark say once again as her realms merged. Did she cry out in agony? Did she wail her loss?
"Kathryn…Kathryn…"
Another voice that reached to her in the depths of her dream. A familiar voice. She woke sluggishly, disoriented in the semi-dark. Chakotay sat on the edge next to her, his face creased with concern.
"Who…?"
"Kathryn, it's me, Chakotay."
She struggled to sit up and he helped her. She had been coughing, had choked on her saliva, most likely. She was also drenched in perspiration and her cheeks were wet. Chakotay rubbed her hands.
"I am dead, Chakotay..."
"I heard your cries. You are very deeply distressed."
Kathryn didn't ask how he got into her cabin, nor did she question his presence there. She was just glad that he was there and that she needed him. She couldn't stop herself. Her dream had been real, the beautiful bubble that burst and turned into an ugly faceless entity. To Mark she had stopped existing. She gave a sob and hurled herself against the strong, hard chest of her first officer. Chakotay rocked her gently as she sobbed, at first a little wildly, then later when she calmed, her body had given occasional shudders.
Kathryn held on to him, tightly, slowly becoming aware of him, his smell, the faint aftershave, his reassuring hard chest that encouraged her to rest her head against it. When she lifted her tear-stained face to him, the concern was still there. Curiously drawn to his face, his eyes in which the anxiety was mixed with a guilty glow, she raised her hand to touch his tattoo. Her fingers rested first like a butterfly there before it moved to trace the outline. Transfixed, she moved her face closer, her body strangely warm, her face flushed. There was a distant slow throbbing she felt in her ears. The moment was spell-binding, heady. New eyes looked at familiar planes of his face - the hard jaw line, lips that always appeared to be pulled into a smile, the slight movement that caused a dimple to appear, the faint scar just below his jaw that he hadn't wanted to remove after the storm on New Earth.
There was a reciprocal recognition in Chakotay's eyes, a flash of desire which he tried to bank down as he pursed his lips. Frowning, she let trembling fingers touch his mouth, the action causing him to close his eyes.
"Kathryn," Chakotay groaned in warning, his hands gripping her wrists as he moved them away from his body. "Kathryn, this…is not…"
"I need your comfort, Chakotay," she breathed softly, her voice tremulous. She didn’t want him to leave. She was safe with him, in his arms. "All the time I have given comfort to the crew, expecting nothing… They don't know - "
"I think they do, Kathryn" Chakotay replied, holding her away from him. "They cherish you for what you have done for them, Kathryn. Please, remember that - "
He rose from the bed but she had given a little cry of distress, pulling him down again. This time Chakotay had placed his hands on her shoulders and pressed her back again the pillows. She was afraid, afraid of dreaming again, of Mark's voice joined by the Faceless One as they mocked her loneliness. She saw her days, months and years ahead, a lonely woman without the prospect of a husband or fiancé waiting.
"Don't leave me, Chakotay," she said, her voice pleading as she strained to sit up again and pressed her face against him. "I can't bear to be alone…"
He had given a sigh and held her close in his arms again, his hands caressing her hair, then stopping the action as if he realised it was something he shouldn't have done. Another sigh of capitulation as he pressed her even closer, his body warm and strong.
"Kathryn… O, Kathryn…" he murmured in her hair. She raised her face to look at him, saw the fire in his eyes. The reluctance to touch her had been replaced by desire. "I can't…"
But she drowned his protestations by kissing him, her lips exploring his tentatively, a silent cry of joy when his lips softened under her touch, coaxing her own mouth to open. A groan as the kiss deepened. His fingers tangled in her hair as he pulled her head back, pressed his lips into the hollow in her neck.
"Chakotay…" she whispered as his hands began to roam her body, warm, searching hands that became burning organs of touch and certainty and reassurance and desire as they pressed the straps of her nightie away from her shoulders. Hands that were rough, smooth, loving, tender, kind, compassionate and mostly, passionate as they caressed her everywhere. He stopped suddenly. The movement left her robbed of warmth, so she took his hand and guided it to her breast. A few seconds as he looked deeply into her eyes, the war continuing in his. Her palm cupped his cheek. Her body was on fire. She had stopped thinking, allowing the sheer beauty and power of her emotion to carry her forward.
"Love me…" she whispered huskily.
In his eyes the battle raged until seconds later it spent itself and surrendered to her insistent pressure.
She had lain back against the pillows as she watched him undress slowly and slide under the covers next to her.
Chakotay had turned and braced himself on his elbow, touching her lips with such tenderness that she wanted to cry. He smelled all male, welcome, yet he waited…waited… She realised with wonder that he wanted her to stop.
"One word from you, Kathryn," he murmured, the guilt again warring with desire in his eyes. She knew he could walk away although he looked like he could devour her.
Slowly her hand crept to his arousal, grasped it with fervent fingers. He gave a little sigh of pleasure as she rubbed gently up and down the shaft. Her breathing had turned to little shallow puffs. His eyes darkened as she held his shaft and with her free hand pulled his face closer. Her lips touched his, the action electrifying. Gently she pulled him over her and gasped as his weight bore down on her. He buried his face in her neck, giving a little sob as she spread her thighs to allow him to settle comfortably between her legs. He felt hard, a hot, quivering penis that nudged at her. He moved his hand between them, finding her centre; giving another little cry as her folds were parted and his finger darted in. She knew she was ready, very wet and very ready. She arched impatiently against him, her hands on his buttocks pressing him closer to her.
A sharp gasp escaped as he entered her, slowly pushing into her sheath. His mouth clamped on a nipple, sucking hard while he gave a final thrust, lodging himself deeply in her. She felt filled, his cock swollen, seeming to grow bigger inside her. Unable to stop herself, she started moving even as he waited for her to adjust to him. With another cry he began to thrust, his rhythm matching hers, never going too fast, allowing her to set the pace until finally she couldn't anymore. Her entire body was aflame, damp and moving in concert with his, their moans and soft gasps mingling. At times he caught her mouth, or one of her nipples and suckled greedily while he pounded into her.
"Chakotay…" she whispered his name in the semi-dark as she felt her body rising, the seconds before the explosion, heaving as she surrendered to the utter pleasure that rocked her body, sending her reeling dangerously, a danger she welcomed with ecstasy as she cried his name. With every hard thrust her voice accompanied in sound, a long moan, a keening wail, or just crying his name as he gave her pleasure.
She arched, then crashed over the edge as Chakotay stiffened above her, his body rigid as it prepared to follow her.
"Kathryn!!" he cried as he spilled painfully into her.
Their bodies shuddered in the aftermath, slowly returning to normal as he lay collapsed against her. He raised his head and she thought she saw tears in his eyes as he bent to kiss her, the touch almost reverent.
He didn't speak again, but settled himself next to her. She didn't want to be bereft of his touch so she nestled against him, her leg thrown over his, her palm resting on his damp chest. She wanted to retain the contact as she closed her eyes drowsily, the echoes of their lovemaking ringing in her body as she drifted off to sleep.
When she woke up hours later, Chakotay was gone.
A sound - perhaps Tom's chair swishing to one side of the conn, brought her to the present. She glanced at the man sitting next to her.
Chakotay looked battered, unhappy and uncommunicative.
Since his arrival on the bridge shortly after she had taken her seat, he hadn't said a word except his short muttered greeting. It was almost lunch time and she was hungry. She hadn't eaten last night and this morning only drank a cup of black coffee before making her way to the bridge. It wasn't necessary to hail him since he was on duty anyway and her heart thundered when he appeared on the bridge.
Their lovemaking had been breathtaking, blissful. She had looked up eagerly, expectantly at him when he sat down. After his greeting it had gone downhill from there. Now she found his silence unbearable.
Trying not to show her distress she rose from her chair.
"Chakotay, in my ready room, now," she ordered, knowing that her voice sounded terse. She didn't care. He wasn't talking and she deserved to know why.
Seconds later the ready room door opened and Chakotay entered. She was standing facing the view port, and Chakotay had come to a stop just behind her. She turned to look at him, her heart sinking seeing how unhappy he looked. The silence was strained, uneasy. Taking a deep breath she stepped closer to him, flinching when he took a step back.
"We need to talk, Chakotay."
"Last night," he croaked, "I should never - "
"We're adults, Chakotay. Why can't you acknowledge what happened last night? We made love. I admit I was distraught in the beginning, but I was lucid - "
"I took advantage, Kathryn!" he cut in. "You were emotionally undone and I took advantage of that. How do you think I feel? I can never forgive myself, Kathryn, never."
"Chakotay, I was there too, remember?"
"You don't understand, do you? I made love to a woman who had just been told the man she loved, her fiancé was no longer a part of her life; a man who married someone else because he couldn't wait. I took that woman and - " Chakotay paused, rubbed his eyes in a furious gesture of pain and frustration. "I'm a first class jerk."
"No, you're not. You're the man who comforted - "
She regretted her words the moment they were out. Chakotay's nostrils flared, his lips trembled. His hands balled into fists at his side. Before she could retract her damning description of what he had done and meant for her, Chakotay turned and stalked out of the ready room.
"…comforted a woman who felt loved for the first time in her life…"
But Chakotay was gone.
******
CHAKOTAY
Sandrine's was the perfect place to drown his misery in a glass of whisky. He had never liked liquor and the first few sips had caused him to pull his face at the unfamiliar taste. Soon he felt the effects after downing a second glass. It wasn't enough to dim his memories of what happened last night.
He should never have gone to her quarters.
Yesterday afternoon in the ready room she had been calm and he had known that beneath it all was her broken heart. It hit her very hard and the off-hand way she had spoken about losing the man she loved belied her true feelings. She had been noble in her sacrifices she had made for her ship and crew and now she was expected to remain upbeat in the face of her own misery.
He had comforted her by simply listening to her, had taken her words and cherished them in his heart. Once again he felt honoured that she had shared with him something that hurt her profoundly. He had wanted to enclose her in his embrace and croon to her that the day would come that she'd have the happiness she deserved.
He should never have gone last night. But in all the years that they were in adjacent quarters he had never heard Kathryn cry. Last night he lay for a very long time listening to her sobbing. He couldn't help himself as he got up from bed and went to her quarters, breaking her codes with his old Maquis expertise.
His own feelings had been kept sublimated for so long, one more day would not have mattered being close to her and wanting to hold her in his arms and kiss away all her fears. He wasn't the right candidate last night to offer Kathryn Janeway solace. He had gone into her quarters knowing that his love for her would make it difficult to be objective, that what happened later was something that could have been avoided. He had wanted to go and at the back of his mind was the hope that Kathryn would see him in a different light now. Kathryn was dealing with the grief of her loss in her way. He should have left her.
Chakotay rubbed his eyes, trying to dispel the images of last night. Kathryn didn't love him. Mark Johnson had just delivered her a cruel blow although in fairness, he probably didn't mean to. How could he know that Kathryn still tied her destiny to the mast of her fiancé's ship? How could he know that deep down Kathryn not only wanted to get her crew home and expiate her guilt at stranding them in the Delta Quadrant that way, but that Mark Johnson stood like a beacon in the dark for her. With him waiting at home, she was more driven. She still had so much hope, had accepted that he'd move on, but to get married as well? Kathryn, loyal to the very core, had been unable to deal with Mark whose loyalty to her was to be challenged. That more than anything must have worked in Kathryn's mind. What were the demons of her dreams that she cried out in such anguish?
When he sat down next to her, she had looked unbelievably vulnerable, like he had never seen her and all his instincts to protect her, to take away her pain had surfaced. She had been exposed, lost, emotionally destroyed and all he could see was her beauty in her tear-ravaged face. Her beauty and her need. Her eyes had gone soft and liquid as she touched him.
"I should have left then," he muttered again, taking another sip from a newly filled glass.
But his mind kept straying to last night, to the ecstasy and beauty of their joining. He hadn't wanted to make love to her knowing how vulnerable she was, but his own love had been hidden for too long and it had been too hard to resist Kathryn. Just a touch, a breath, a look and he was gone.
He had tried to fight his attraction and in the end, his lust had won out. He had taken what Kathryn had so generously offered to him. She had been soft and pliant and inviting and encouraging. His mind whirled as he remembered how she cried out his name in the dark, how he felt one with her. All his dreams, his fantasies of the last years when he couldn't touch her had come true and played out exactly as he had imagined. He had fallen for his captain from the first moment that he saw her and he had never felt different, or less in love with her since then. His love had grown, his devotion and loyalty sealed over and over whenever Kathryn needed to have that part of him affirmed. Once she told him that she couldn't imagine a day without him. So many things.
He had been content to wait.
Blue-grey eyes, parted lips, heaving breasts, fingers that touched his brow and singed his senses sending him reeling into her alluring trap became his undoing.
Chakotay closed his eyes, shaking his head. When he awoke hours later with Kathryn wrapped so sweetly around him, the cold reality had taken hold of him. Very quietly and carefully he extricated himself from her and got dressed, leaving her quarters silently, distraught at what he had done.
Then on the bridge he couldn't look her in the eyes. Everytime he did he remembered how she had whimpered in his arms, given little cries of pleasure wherever he touched her. He avoided looking at the hand that rested on the console between them, resisted inhaling her smell.
Chakotay gave a cry, pushed the glass away from him and held his head in his hands. How would she ever forgive him? He was a first class jerk, taking her when she was defenseless.
A chair scraped. Someone sat down opposite him. Kathryn. Her perfume drifted in the silence between them.
"Chakotay…"
"Forgive me, Kathryn," he said as he rested his hands on the table. "You were vulnerable and I exploited that…" he finished lamely.
Kathryn's eyes were moist, sad. Her small hand covered his. He felt the old thrill coursing through him as she touched him. He wanted to pull his hand away.
"Do you love me, Chakotay?"
The question came out of the blue and hovered precariously between them. Why would she ask such a question? Didn't she know that he would die for her? Then again, how could she know when she had a fiancé who was waiting for her back home? A fiancé who couldn't wait for her anymore and married someone else. He pulled his hand away and looked at her. Kathryn looked expectantly at him. A slight breathlessness took hold of him. What could he tell her? Bare his soul? Yes, he'd do that, even if she could never love him back.
"You - you are at the bottom of every breath I take. In my silences, you are there. I cannot help it. I didn't ask to love you. It was taken out of my hands… A power that goes far beyond what I can understand…" He paused, gathering his strength. "Yes…yes, I love you, Kathryn. It doesn't excuse what I did, does it?" He was suddenly angry at himself again as the words burst from him. Kathryn reached for him and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. Why couldn't she be mad at him? Why were her eyes so gentle?
"Chakotay, will you listen to me, at least? Give me a hearing?"
"Look - "
"Please…"
He slumped back in his chair. Sandrine kept the others away from them. He didn't fancy an audience, even if it were a holographic one. He nodded, feeling rotten inside and scared to death of what she was going to say. She could throw him in the brig until they got home, or she could dump him on the first inhospitable world. It didn't matter now. He remembered her tears and he remembered the softness of her body. He remembered how he took what wasn't his.
"Mark was always just there, you know," Kathryn began softly, almost lost in thought as she looked away from him. "He was kind, gentle, affectionate and loved me. I loved him…" There was a long pause. Then Kathryn looked at him, her gaze direct. "I think the reason I loved Mark was because he never presented the danger, the threat that I'd ever lose control. I was content to love him that way…"
"Kathryn…" Chakotay wondered where the conversation was leading to. "He moved on, leaving you alone."
"I know. He has my blessing."
"Kathryn?"
"I dreamed of him last night, before you came. It was terrible. In the dream he rejected me, cast me out of his life; he told his wife I'm dead to him…"
"But he is not like that," Chakotay filled in.
"No, he is not. Mark is the kindest person who breathed, Chakotay. Who knows what he was telling me in my dream? Was it a way of saying it's time that I too, moved one? Being engaged to him was the protection I needed…" she finished, her voice trailing away. Kathryn blinked as she held back the tears.
"A safety net."
"Yes."
"To protect you against what?"
"You."
He felt the blood draining from him. The air squeezed painfully out of his lungs and there was a buzzing sound in his ears. He heard Kathryn say his name softly and it was as if her voice came from far. What was Kathryn telling him?
"I will never hurt you, Kathryn. I pledge my life on that," he said finally.
"Mark never surprised me. Here on this ship I was faced with a first officer who could make me laugh one day, hold my hand in comfort the next, make life bearable. I never knew what you would come up next, Chakotay, except that I knew you would always honour me and never willingly hurt me. I was a willing participant last night, not because I couldn't bear being without Mark, but because it was always going to happen. Mark, God bless him, was my safety net against you. I fought your attraction as hard as I could, knowing how precarious our situation was, how utterly dangerous you are; knowing that with you I would be on a rollercoaster ride for the rest of my life, never knowing the twists and turns life would take us. Mark..." Kathryn gave a deep sigh. "Mark would have been someone I could come home to, but..." Another long pause. "But with you... Knowing that whatever happened in my life, here on Voyager, you'd be right there with me, beside me. Last night I finally acknowledged that..."
Kathryn's eyes closed as Chakotay let go of her hand to cup her cheek very tenderly.
"Last night…you wanted it, for me?"
Kathryn nodded. "For a very long time, I dreaded that rollercoaster. I was content to use Mark to prevent myself from…" Kathryn closed her eyes briefly. She took a deep breath. "To prevent myself from caring…too much…"
His heart skip a beat at her revelation.
"But yesterday, you were so sad that he moved on…"
"I was sad, yes, because a chapter in the book of my life had closed, Chakotay. Isn't it always a sad thing when you do that? I needed you so badly," she whispered, a smile forming. "I didn't want to give you time to rethink and turn away from me again. I've made my peace with Mark leaving and now, I must move on… Last night…" Kathryn paused, allowing a single tear to roll down her cheek.
"What about last night, Kathryn?" he asked, his voice hoarse with emotion.
"It was perfect."
"I love you, Kathryn," he murmured as he took her hand and pressed it against his lips.
"I know. You told me in our most precious moments. I shall always treasure that. I wanted you, Chakotay. Remember that, will you? Mark will still be the kind friend I grew up with. I loved him, yes, I can't deny that. But I was growing out of love with him. Yesterday's letter just brought home a reality I didn't want to accept. Even if I never left home, remained engaged to Mark and I met you…" Kathryn turned away from him, again pensive. When she faced him again, her eyes were soft. "I would have fallen for you…"
"Kathryn?"
"It won't be easy, Chakotay, the rest of our journey home. But I want to journey in the knowledge that my first officer is also my friend, my confidant, my mentor, my moral compass and my - "
"Lover?" he ventured, hope flaring wildly in him, the misery of the last hours suddenly lifted.
"Not just my lover, but my husband…whom I love passionately…"
Chakotay rose from his chair, took Kathryn's hand in his and gazed deeply into her eyes.
"But first, let me court you, okay? Do things for you…"
"Protect me?"
"You may not need my protection, but you wrench that instinct from my very soul."
"You'll build me a tub?"
"Uh-huh. You remember that boat I designed for you?"
"Yes?" Kathryn frowned.
"I'm going to build that boat for you, Kathryn. When we get home, we'll sail on the real Lake George in our boat, okay?"
She laughed, a light, relieved laugh. She threw her arms round him then looked up at him with shining eyes.
"I'd like that, Chakotay. I'd like that very much."
*********
END