Broken Hearts

by mizvoy

Chapter 4

September 11, 2378–Jupiter Station

Mark Johnson

Chakotay was trying to find a comfortable sleeping position in the chairs of Jupiter Station’s waiting room when he noticed a big man with a familiar face studying him from the other side of the room. He shifted in his seat and regretted, again, missing the outgoing flight from Alpha Centauri, and then his connection to Earth. If he hadn’t been delayed, he’d be home on earth asleep in his own bed.

He peered through his lashes and saw that the man was still staring at him. Feigning sleep, he burrowed into his folded jacket he was using for a pillow, hoping the stranger wasn’t another reporter wanting an interview about Voyager. Surely the man would have enough decency to let an exhausted traveler nap in peace.

“Is this seat taken?”

Chakotay opened one eye to find the stranger towering over him, a look of embarrassed determination on his face as he gestured at the seat directly across from Chakotay. He scowled as he tried to remember where he’d seen the man’s face before. Was he a well-known commentator on some news network? Had he written a book that had garnered him Federation-wide attention? Was he a former colleague who had moved on to another line of work?

“I’m not using it,” Chakotay grumbled, closing his eye again. He heard the man hesitate and hoped for silence, only to be disappointed once again.

“I hate to interrupt your nap, but I have to ask. You were Kath’s first officer, weren’t you?”

Kath? Chakotay’s eyes flew open. Who would call Captain Janeway Kath? He sat up slightly, giving the man a more careful look. “Have we met?”

“I’m sure we haven’t. I’m Mark Johnson.”

When Chakotay made the connection, he sat straight up in the seat. “Not the Mark Johnson who sent Kathryn . . . who was engaged to marry Kathryn Janeway?”

“You were right the first time. I was the bum who sent her a Dear John letter while she was stranded 70,000 light years from home.” Johnson blushed and nervously turned the wedding band on his finger. “Later I realized that I should’ve lied to her and let her think I was still waiting for her rather than adding to her misery by telling her the truth. It was cruel to drop her like that from the opposite side of the galaxy.”

“Mark Johnson?” Chakotay repeated his name as he stood up and offered the man his hand. He carefully took his measure. He had a firm grip. They were about the same height and build, with dark hair and dimples. But Johnson had blue eyes and the soft palm of an inactive man, as would befit a professor and a member of the prestigious Questor philosophical think tank. “I remember when she got your letter. She was sad, but I don’t think she was surprised that you had moved on. It had been years since Voyager disappeared. Moving on was the logical thing to do, and as for telling her? She prefers honesty.” He gestured at the seat across from his. “Sit down?”

Johnson took the seat and studied his hands as Chakotay studied him. This was the person whom Kathryn had loved and had planned to marry. This man had kissed her, held her, made love to her, taken her on vacations, lived with her, and been privy to her most personal thoughts and plans. Chakotay fought back a wave of jealousy and focused instead on easing the man’s obvious discomfort.

Johnson sighed. “You’re right about Kath preferring honesty. But I keep thinking that I could have been gentler about it.” He leaned his elbow on his knees, his chin on one hand. “I should’ve emphasized how much I grieved over losing her, how hard it was to move on. I should have told her that I’d always love her, because I will, Chakotay.”

Chakotay shook his head. “I’m sure she knew all that, Mark. It’s just that . . . well, we all had to have something or someone to come home to. And she had every intention, from day one, of getting home sooner rather than later, whether you waited for her or not.”

“The ironic thing is that I was always much more committed to our relationship than she was. Her work always came first, and she always expected me to adapt my schedule to hers. I’m not sure she would admit it, but she always thought of me as a sort of a safety net–a screen to protect her from the men who seemed to be drawn to her wherever she went.”

Chakotay’s head snapped up. Had Johnson called himself a safety net? He remembered that Kathryn had called him that when she’d told Chakotay about her “Dear John” letter. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t know if she told you much about our relationship.” He blushed. “Maybe you aren’t interested and would rather get some sleep.”

“No, please, tell me.” He could sense that Johnson needed to talk to someone, and Chakotay’s curiosity was compelling him to listen. He never tired of gathering data on his friend, never gave up on understanding her better.

“I first met her when she was five years old, a new kindergartner waiting for the bus down the lane from the house we’d moved into just days earlier. I was seven and going into second grade, so I was much more worldly-wise, much more experienced than she was.” He laughed at the memory. “Some of the other kids started teasing her about being a baby. When I told them to shut up and leave her alone, she reached up and took my hand, and then she looked up at me with those big blue eyes, and I was hooked.” He laughed and shook his head. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

Chakotay smiled, shivering at the soul-shattering impact those same blue eyes had had on him thirty years later. “Actually, I do believe in love at first sight. Or at least lust at first sight.”

“Oh, yes, I know about that, but I was much too young for lust,” Johnson chuckled. “I never really got over Kathryn Janeway, and I never will. Oh, I’m happily married, don’t get me wrong, and I’m committed to my wife and son, but once you truly love someone, you always love them.”

“That’s true.”

“And she tolerated me.”

“Are you implying that Kathryn didn’t love you? I think she did.”

“Yes, in her way, she did. She never loved me the passionate way I loved her, but I understood that and accepted her limitations as inevitable.” He looked miserable. “In many ways, I probably feel about my wife the way Kath felt about me–a deep appreciation for her loyalty and her willingness to forgive me for not loving her back as passionately as I should. Marie appreciates my zealous determination to be faithful to her. She accepts it for what I can give her and lets the rest go.”

“Kathryn’s limitations?” Chakotay wasn’t reluctant to admit that his former captain had shortcomings, because she was completely human and as flawed as anyone else. But, Chakotay had a sick feeling that he knew what Johnson would say next–that she was damaged by the trauma of the accident that had killed her father and her fiancé.

“Did she ever talk about Justin with you?”

“Justin? Her first fiance? No. In fact, I had no idea she’d been engaged to anyone but you until Phoebe talked about Justin just a few weeks ago.”

“A significant omission, don’t you think?” When Chakotay didn’t answer, Johnson continued. “Would you believe that she talked to me about him only once in all the years we were together?”

Chakotay couldn’t hide his surprise. “Did you meet him?”

“No, I didn’t. I was already living in South America when she met Justin and brought him home to meet her parents. The accident happened pretty soon after that.”

“So you did know about the accident?”

Johnson shrugged. “Only the barest minimum–the type of detail neighbors would share. My family lived down the road from the Janeways for years. We knew that Admiral Janeway and Justin Tighe had been killed in a ‘test flight’ accident–which we assumed had something to do with the new ships the admiral designed.” He rubbed his face with his hands. “And, of course, we knew that Kath had been critically injured at the same time. But none of the details made it to the news reports except the admiral’s death. It was very hush-hush. I even heard rumors that they suspected Cardassian sabotage might have been involved.”

“And you and Kathryn discussed this?”

“She told me about it once, but that was it. She doesn’t talk about it with anyone. I remember when she was promoted to captain, some reporter asked her about her father’s tragic death. She just blinked in surprise and said, ‘That happened in a different life. No comment.'”

“Strange.” Chakotay sat back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “She seems so open about her life on the surface.”

“She is quite candid about everything but that incident.” They sat silently for a few moments, each lost in thought. “I ran into her about a year after the accident, when her dog, Petunia, stole a sandwich out of my picnic basket and led me on a merry chase back to her mistress. Kath and I spent the rest of the afternoon catching up with each other, and then she suddenly started talking about the accident. She felt terribly guilty about surviving when the two men she loved most in the universe died. She cried about it in an emotional outburst that I never saw in her again.

“I had talked to Phoebe about Kath’s recovery just a few days earlier, and I knew better than to ask any prying questions. Phoebe believed Kath had been considering suicide after the accident, and she warned me to avoid probing into the details in case it might trigger another bout of depression. I never brought it up again, and she never did, either. I think my respect for her privacy and our lifelong friendship made Kath comfortable enough around me to begin a relationship. Eventually.”

Chakotay was shocked. “Suicidal? I can’t believe Kathryn Janeway would ever be suicidal. She’s too tough.”

“Phoebe insists that she was. Apparently Kath was wandering around in a blizzard late one evening when she found Petunia, deserted and nearly frozen. She’d left the house without telling anyone that she was leaving, and Phoebe thinks she planned to just wander off and ‘accidentally’ freeze to death. Instead, about the time they realized that she’d disappeared, she reappeared with the puppy, anxious to nurse it back to health.”

“And she told the reporter the accident happened in a ‘different life.’ Did she talk to counselors?”

“Sure she did, or she would never have been allowed to return to active duty in Starfleet, and especially not in the command track. We all deal with tragedy in different ways. Some people relive it over and over in their minds and are never able to move ahead. Others accept that it happened and find a way to resume their lives in spite of the pain. Others simply bury it deep within and start over from scratch–as if they are different people.”

Chakotay nodded. “And that’s what Kathryn did. She changed her career path from science to command and started over.”

“But, she’ll always carry the scars, Chakotay. She’ll never be the innocent, spontaneous, happy, optimistic woman she was before the accident. She’s learned a horrible truth, that there is always danger hiding in the shadows, that even the happiest times are temporary and tinged with hopelessness.”

Chakotay said, “And so you had this unspoken event that bound you together. You knew about it, so she had no need to go over it again with you. And you never confronted her about her feelings or memories, which meant that it could remain buried. A shared secret like that can be an important element in a committed relationship.”

“I’m sure it played a part. I knew her deepest, darkest secret, the one thing that she tries hard to put out of her mind.”

“And you were a safety net in that way, too. By staying with you, she could leave the crash buried in the past, trusting you to leave it unmentioned.”

“And she knew I loved her even though I knew about the accident, and even though she didn’t love me back with the same intensity. I mean, how could I compete with the man who had rescued her from a Cardassian prison?”

“A Cardassian . . . .” Chakotay didn’t try to hide his surprise. “Kathryn was in a Cardassian prison?”

“Not long. Justin and his squad of rangers rescued her and Admiral Paris after just two or three days. She’d been beaten, but not physically assaulted.” He ducked his head. “Not raped.”

Chakotay slumped in his chair, his mind going back to dozens of talks on Voyager in which they’d discussed friends and comrades who had endured the horrors of alien prisons. He had even told her of rescuing fellow Maquis from Cardassian prisons, and yet she had never, once, told him of her own incarceration. “Kathryn. In a prison.”

“Justin was a hero to her. He risked everything to get her out of there, and she loved him passionately. I could never hope for that kind of love from her.”

Chakotay stared at the man, working up the courage to ask the question that was in the forefront of his mind. “And you were willing to settle for that?”

“You think I sold myself short?”

“I think you deserve to be loved passionately, Mark. I think everyone deserves that.”

“From the first time I met her, I put Kath on a pedestal. She was my ideal woman, the Beatrice to my Dante. She was always oblivious to my feelings, and I never expected her to reciprocate my affection. When she and I started dating, it was enough for me to be near her.” He rubbed his hands together. “Sounds pathetic, doesn’t it?”

Chakotay shook his head, unwilling to stand in judgment of the man when he, too, had been content simply to serve beside Kathryn for seven years. “It sounds noble to me. Loving someone means giving them what they need no matter what it costs you, even if they can’t reciprocate. She needed your support and acceptance, and you didn’t hesitate to give it to her. There’s nothing to be ashamed of in loving someone that much.”

“No, there isn’t, and Kathryn never took advantage of my love for her, either.” Mark stared at him for a long while, as if seeing him for the first time, and then he leaned forward so he could lower his voice. “Are the rumors true? About you and Kath?”

“The rumors? Are you asking me whether Kathryn and I become involved?” Chakotay laughed. “I think you know her better than that.”

Mark sat back in his chair, bemused. “You must have been the ideal first officer for her–a perfect blend of philosopher and soldier. And as much as she relishes the physical part of a relationship . . . .” He sighed, blushing slightly. “She’s a very tactile person.”

Chakotay looked away in embarrassment. “We were too busy trying to stay alive.”

“Still, she must’ve been terribly lonely. She was lucky to have someone with your wisdom and insight to talk to.”

“I guess so.”

“Do you . . . ever see her?” Johnson asked.

“Sure. I see her on a regular basis, depending on our schedules.”

His eyes bored into Chakotay’s. “I would love to talk to her.”

Chakotay shifted uncomfortably, unwilling to be a messenger. “I’m sure she’d welcome a call.”

“It’s just that Marie is so threatened by Kath, and with our second child due any minute . . . .” Johnson looked up as a flight was announced. “Well, that’s my transport. It was nice to meet you, Chakotay, and I apologize again for interrupting your nap.”

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Mark.”

Chakotay watched the man disappear into the crowd, and then he gazed out the viewport at a starship that was slowly approaching the docking level, his mind going back over what Johnson had told him. He tried to put the whole episode behind him in favor of some much needed sleep and struggled once again to find a comfortable position on the chairs. But sleep wouldn’t come.

Kathryn had found every possible reason to avoid making a more intimate relationship with him and most of the crew on Voyager. At first, even on New Earth, she had used her engagement to Mark as a barrier to exploring the attraction they shared. She had used Mark as a shield, just as Mark himself had admitted. And then later, once her engagement ended, she focused on being the ship’s captain and maintaining a proper distance from the crew in order to be “larger than life,” to use her own words.

But what if that habit was something else entirely? What if her isolation was simple avoidance of painful memories? The accident had apparently occurred fairly soon after Justin heroically rescued her from prison–two devastating events in close proximity. Mark Johnson said that she told him only one time of the accident and had never mentioned it again, a very unusual kind of behavior for individuals in an intimate relationship. If she started another serious involvement, she would eventually have to retell the story again. Would she choose to be alone rather than reliving that event? And what counselor would let her get away with such an obvious escape?

He stared out the viewport for a long time and finally drifted off to sleep when a familiar voice said, “What are the chances of running into you here?”

Chakotay opened one eye again to find Kathryn Janeway sitting across from him drinking a huge cup of coffee. “Hello to you, too,” he yawned, blinking his eyes at the size of the cup she held in both hands. “Did you purchase the entire carafe of coffee?”

She laughed as she held up the tankard in salute. “I asked for the biggest cup they had, and they gave me this–barely enough.”

He gave her a dimpled grin. “What are you doing at Jupiter Station? Are you on your way out or heading back?”

“On my way out. I try to stop in and see the doctor whenever I pass through, which slows me down some.” She took a long sip. “He didn’t mention seeing you.”

“No, he didn’t mention it, because he didn’t see me. My layover was supposed to be only thirty minutes long, so I didn’t even tell him I’d be here.” He heaved a sigh. “I missed my connection and have been here for hours, hoping for an empty seat to come available. Traveling as a civilian is not fun.”

“You could always return to Starfleet.” She wasn’t very sympathetic.

“I doubt that. When I resigned, the entire admiralty heaved a sigh of relief.”

She chuckled. “Well, if you change your mind, let me know. I’m sure I could convince them that you’re worth the time and trouble.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” He watched her relax in the chair and drink her coffee, and then he realized that she was out of uniform and uncharacteristically alone. He glanced around the area, surprised to find that they were alone. “Where are your strap hangers?”

“You mean my staff? I’m actually on leave.” She winced at his expression of complete shock. “I’m on my way to see my sister in the Alpha Centauri system. Which way are you going? Out or back?”

“Back to Earth. I did some consulting work this week with the Daestrom Institute–guerilla tactics–and day after tomorrow I’m interviewing for a lecturing job for the Federation Historical Society.”

“That’s right,” she nodded. “I remember you telling me that you were doing some consulting.”

“Kathryn, I think you know a lot more about this Federation interview than you’re letting on.”

“Oh?” she replied, feigning shock. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that this offer from the Historical Society has your fingerprints all over it.” When Kathryn continued to look at him with willful bewilderment, he said, “The artifacts from Voyager have been cataloged and organized for display in museums in various cities on earth. I’ve been asked to develop lectures about them–providing background information and details of interest about where they came from and why they were valuable enough to their cultures to be given as gifts. If my talks are well accepted, I’ll record them so that they can be shown with the artifacts as they are taken to museums throughout the Federation.” He waited for a reaction, but when there was none, continued, “But I don’t know why I’m bothering to tell you this. I have a feeling you know all about it already.”

Her mouth twitched into a typical half grin. “Well, Chakotay, you were there when we acquired those artifacts, and your minor was history at the Academy. It’s only logical that they ask you do to this.”

“Only logical?”

“Well, it was once I explained the situation properly.” She laughed, and he shook his head with a chuckle. “Really, though, it makes sense.”

“I owe you for the job, just as I suspected. I’m actually looking forward to doing it, and it gives me enough to live on to be choosy about what job I take for the long term.”

“It works out well for everyone involved, then. So you’re returning from Alpha Centauri, and I’m on my way out there. Just my luck. I could use a good traveling companion.” She looked around at the bustling crowd. “Have you noticed how you always run into someone you know at Jupiter Station? Why is that?”

“They say you can’t enter or leave the Sol system without a stop here.” He glanced around, too, before he broached the subject that had been on his mind since the moment she’d awakened him. “Speaking of that, you’ll never guess who I was talking to not thirty minutes ago.” She looked at him expectantly. “Mark Johnson.”

The blood drained from her face. “Mark? Was here?”

“He sat in the very seat you’re sitting in right now.”

She swallowed, struggling to hide her discomfort. “What did he have to say?”

“He asked about you, of course. Seems like a really nice guy.”

“Oh, he’s a wonderful person,” she agreed, regaining her composure. “I haven’t talked to him personally since Voyager left for the Badlands nearly eight years ago. I’ve opened a comm line a dozen times, but . . . I just don’t know what to say.”

Chakotay paused, but then decided to forge ahead, thinking that maybe he could help her come to terms with what had happened. “Are you still in love with him?”

“It isn’t that, exactly,” she insisted, although he could see a blush crawling up her neck. “I have a special place in my heart for him, of course, and I guess I always will. It’s awkward because our relationship never really ended. It just stopped. I guess I’m afraid of what might happen if I call him.”

“Are you afraid that you’ll disrupt his marriage? Or are you afraid that he won’t care about you one way or the other?”

“Both, probably.” She studied the coffee in her cup and then seemed to make a decision. “You know, Mark and I were together for nearly twelve years, yet we never quite managed to tie the knot.”

“Yeah, I noticed that.”

“That was my fault. I focused most of my time and energy on my career, and he seemed willing to let me do that without so much as a murmur of complaint.”

“He loved you.”

“Yes, I know he did, but . . . ,” she ran her finger around the rim of the mug for a moment. “He let me take advantage of him, Chakotay, and I thought he should’ve demanded more from me than he did.”

“Maybe he was afraid you would leave him if he forced the issue.”

“Maybe so.” She sighed. “When the last words you spoke to a person were words of love, how do you reopen the conversation eight years later as a mere friend?”

“You could say, ‘I just want to let you know that I understand why you moved on and that I hope you’re happy.'”

She set her cup on the table and made a big production of looking through her bag. “Let me write that down,” she laughed. “It can’t be that simple.”

“Do you still miss him?”

She put her bag aside with a sigh. “No, I don’t miss him any more. I never think of him, to tell the truth.”

“That’s your answer, then. You need a sense of closure, Kathryn, so that you feel the relationship is really over, and he’s the only one who can give you that. You should contact him.”

“You’re right, of course, and I will call him when I get back from Phoebe’s.” She reached for her coffee and relaxed in the seat again, giving him an affectionate smile. “Isn’t it strange? I have no problem risking life and limb confronting a Kazon maj or conning a Devore inspector or challenging the entire Borg collective, but the prospect of talking to a former fiancé scares me to death.”

He watched her intently, wondering if she were aware of the truth that was so evident to him. “You prefer not to deal openly with your emotions, Kathryn, and especially not the painful ones.”

“What?” She straightened in her seat slightly.

“I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, because it was your ability to seal off that part your life that made you the perfect captain for a ship in Voyager’s predicament. You just refused to contemplate your emotions, rejected them as if they were optional. You put aside all that upset you and focused on the present instead.”

“That doesn’t sound very healthy,” she said, her eyes as big as saucers.

“In the long run, Kathryn, it isn’t healthy.” He got up and moved to the seat beside her, and then he put her coffee mug on the table and took her hands in his. “Mark knows how hard it will be for you to call him, how you would rather just avoid the pain and move on without this closure. He’ll help you get through the emotional side of it. You’ll see. He’s known you for forty years, and he understands you better than you know.”

Her eyes flooded with tears as she studied his face. “Maybe it’s time for me to break those bad habits?”

“Well, not all at once,” he grinned, thinking of the other emotional land mines in her past and worrying that they might overwhelm her. “But I do think that eventually you need to come to terms with all that’s happened to you over the years–good and bad–if you ever want to find emotional happiness.”

She nodded. “And who, Chakotay, will help me through that?” Their eyes locked, and Chakotay had the briefest glimpse of the pain that she kept so well hidden. He was so shocked by her uncharacteristic vulnerability and openness that he simply stared at her, dumfounded, but before he could answer, she smiled. “I have so much to work through from my years on Voyager that I sometimes feel overwhelmed. But I’m still seeing a counselor, Chakotay, and I’m thinking that it’s time to deal with . . . everything I’ve been through in a better way.”

“That’s wonderful news, Kathryn,” he replied. “And, if you need someone to talk to, any time, you know how to reach me.”

Before Kathryn could reply, a transport attendant stepped up to them and cleared her throat. Kathryn pulled her hands away as they turned to the new arrival.

“Mr. Chakotay?” the woman started. “You said you wanted the first available flight to Earth. Well, a seat has come available on the 0900 transport that’s boarding at gate 35A right now, and I told them to hold it for you.”

He hesitated, torn by his desire to stay and talk to Kathryn and his need to return to work. If he missed this ship, he’d have to rearrange the next three day’s appointments, including the interview with the Historical Society. He looked back at her, miserable.

“You’d better go, Chakotay,” Kathryn said, placing her hand on his arm to reassure him that it would be all right. “Who knows how long it will be for the next available seat, and my transport leaves in less than thirty minutes, anyway.”

“Give me a minute,” Chakotay said, nodding at the attendant as he stood up and slung his bag on his shoulder. When he turned, he found Kathryn standing beside him. “I’m glad we had a chance to talk.”

“Oh, Chakotay, so am I,” she laid her hand on his chest. “I’m finally beginning to understand that I’m no longer everyone’s captain and that some of those unnatural command barriers that inhibited me can be permanently dismantled.”

He covered her small hand with his, pulling her even closer to his side. He spoke softly, so that only she could hear him, “That’s the best news I’ve had all year.”

She reached up and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “You’d better be on your way.”

“Call me when you get back,” he said as he followed the attendant down the passageway.

“I will,” she answered, picking up her own belongings.

“Was that Admiral Janeway?” the attendant asked as soon as they were out of earshot, her voice full of awe at having been in the presence of such a celebrity. “She’s so petite.”

“Don’t let her small size fool you,” he chuckled. He had a huge grin on his face, and he wasn’t about to explain why. He thought there had been an imperceptible shift in his friendship with his former captain, toward an intimacy that they’d repressed for years, and he felt as if his heart was going to explode with joy. Of course, he might be mistaken, and he told himself that he had to make sure before he let himself be hurt once again. When they reached the turning point of the passageway, he would glance back toward her. If she were still there, watching him leave, his suspicion of a change would be confirmed.

As he turned the corner, he paused, ostensibly to adjust his bag, and glanced back to where Kathryn stood, still watching him. She smiled as she raised her left hand in the traditional Starfleet cadet salute of friendship, and he returned it as relief surged through his body.

He chuckled when the attendant seemed confused at his next statement. “You know, things are finally looking up.”

“Because you’re finally going home?” she wondered. “Relieved to catch a transport at last?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, giving her a wink. “Home, at last. That’s it.”