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Summary: A series of chance meetings reminds Janeway and Chakotay of the inevitability of their relationship. J/C Post-Endgame

Undeniable

By Mizvoy

Chapter 12 (Chronologically)

May 16, 2380 (two year anniversary of Voyager’s return)

Remus (sister planet to Romulus) Beta Quadrant

When he received a call from Raoul Dugan, the lead anthropologist on the cultural survey group assigned to Remus, Chakotay had accepted a position on the team without a second thought. How could he pass up the opportunity to be one of the first Federation scientists to visit the highly secret, slave-inhabited planet in close orbit with Romulus? It was exactly the kind of job he’d been hoping to find, and, once he’d accepted the position, he’d been frantic to get there as quickly as possible.

But, that had been six months earlier. In the meantime, Chakotay had come to detest his life on the Q-class planet. Remus did not rotate on its axis, which meant that it had three distinctive zones—a cold zone in constant shadow, a habitable zone that ranged from freezing to tropical, and a hot zone in constant sunlight. He always missed the rhythm of a planet’s day and night, even when scientists recreated it artificially, as they did on Earth’s Lunar colonies. But he missed it even more here, where there was no concession whatever to the circadian cycle native to earth.

And while the research team’s offices and apartments were located in the most temperate section of the habitable zone, Chakotay was still bothered by the constancy of the light. There were no periods of twilight in the early day or late evening, no blinding sunlight of midday, just an invariable level of light, day in and day out. It was no wonder that he and most of the rest of the team escaped to Romulus every ten days or so for a couple of days of rest and relaxation, for a sunrise and sunset, if nothing else.

He sat at his desk trying to finish editing the next to last section of the team’s report, but found himself growing bored, his mind wandering. He looked out the window at Romulus and sighed, wishing he could simply transport himself there for a nice long vacation. His thoughts were interrupted when his boss came into his cubicle and perched on the corner of his desk.

“Coming with us to the beach this weekend?” Dugan followed Chakotay’s gaze out the window at Remus’ sister planet. “Connie found us rooms at an inn this time instead of the hostel. It’s right across the street from a four-star restaurant. And there’s a really nice dance club on the corner.”

“Wish I could, but I’ve got to finish proofing this section of the report for Professor Ramirez.” He shrugged. In his five months on Remus, he sometimes stayed behind to work and to observe the populace in their more relaxed moments. He found he learned as much from his stays on Remus during those lonely weekends as he did from the team’s more deliberate surveys of the population. He also treasured the privacy those weekends afforded him, the chance to participate in activities that might be considered newsworthy by his fellow team members.

“Well, just don’t freeze to death out there.” Raoul gave him a wink as he stood up and headed for the team’s residence next door. “I’ll leave the coordinates of the inn in your comm unit in case you change your mind.”

Chakotay watched the team leave and then packed up his desk. He’d chosen not to live with the rest of the team, preferring to find a place of his own near the cold zone where he could immerse himself in the planet’s unique culture and cope with its relentless climate. It wasn’t that unusual for an anthropologist to “rough it” in order to increase his understanding of the culture being studied, and so no one had really questioned his motives. Some of the most dramatic observations had come about as a direct result of information he discovered thanks to his unique living arrangements.

After the team’s noisy departure, he walked out of the Federation mission building and toward the permanent twilight of the planet’s dark side. He could hear the never-ending grind of the mining equipment in the frozen zone, see the glare of the artificial lights create an orange glow on the horizon, smell the distinctive stench of the refineries. He could also feel the temperature drop and the light grow dimmer with each step he took.

If the Federation planed to keep a permanent presence on Remus, they would have to build a habitation dome to duplicate the more normal light patterns, he thought to himself. No humanoid species would choose to live like this for months at a time, and his heart went out to the slaves and the slavers who had endured this abnormality for centuries. He zipped his jacket against the cold as he made his way through the dingy, dirty maze of streets, smiling as he thought of Raoul’s initial reaction to his decision to live in this particular section of “the economy.”

“Why not stay with the rest of us?” he’d argued. “Or at least rent something closer to the temp zone? Those apartments are barely habitable, and the crime rate is off the scales.”

“I’m here to study the Reman culture,” Chakotay had answered. “How better to do that than to live with them where they live? Besides,” he’d grinned, “I’ve lived in worse conditions.”

But, that was a lie, he realized. He’d never lived in worse conditions. However, the apartment, barely livable, freezing cold, and terribly lonely, did give him the privacy and independence he craved. He’d invited a few of the team to visit him for a meal in the first few weeks, but none had ever accepted a second invitation and eventually left him alone. In the meantime, he’d made friends with everyone in his courtyard and had been included in several group celebrations and meals that he would have otherwise missed, experiences he knew would fuel some important personal papers once the assignment ended.

By the time he was halfway home, the temperature had dropped to near freezing and he was pulling up his hood, donning his mittens, and shoving his hands deep into his pockets, grateful, at least, that the wind was behind him. He wrapped a scarf around his face to protect his skin from dehydration, knowing that it would be stiff with ice from his breath long before he arrived home. Just as the cold was about to reach his bones, he arrived at his courtyard and let himself in to the common area the eight apartments shared, really little more than a wide hallway that was a degree or two above freezing.

The windowless apartment was so tiny, two small rooms and a bath the size of a closet, that Chakotay sometimes felt as if he were wearing it. The strictly limited and very expensive heat was programmed to come on fifteen minutes before his arrival and shut down four hours later, about the time he crawled into bed. To use any more power than that would be an extravagant waste.

He had no doubt that all of the other residents in the courtyard visited his rooms on a regular basis to look for contraband, and he was careful to leave just enough lying around to satisfy them. Tonight, he noticed, half of loaf of bread had disappeared along with a couple of tomato-like fruits he’d come to tolerate and his entire store of hard candy. He shrugged and pulled out the dinner supplies he’d brought from the office, thinking he’d gotten off easy this time.

Following his meal, he listened to soft music and edited the report, keeping his mind focused on the work until he heard the heat shut off and felt the cold crept into his body until it forced him to get up and find a warmer place. Exhausted from the loss of body heat and the tedious work, he quickly shut down his PADD, raced through his bedtime ritual, and crawled into his Starfleet arctic sleeping bag fully dressed. Once he began to warm up, he peeled off his clothes and snuggled deeper into the sleeping bag, reaching out to slide open a tiny observation port that let him gaze at Romulus overhead, a beam of its creamy light falling across the bed.

He had visited Kathryn discreetly when three of his weekend trips to Romulus coincided with her visits there. Her luxury hotel suite was conveniently located between the beach and the hostel the team preferred, and he’d found it easy to wander away from the others and disappear for hours at a time. No one ever asked him where he’d gone or what he’d been doing. He suspected that no one cared.

But those hours with her had been a precious gift, the only thing that made his duty on Remus bearable and, when he was honest with himself, an underlying reason he had taken the posting in the first place. He recalled how, on one warm evening, they had opened the windows to the sea breeze that blew the curtains and brought the smell of flowers into the room. They’d slept there in a tangled pile on her large, comfortable bed, comforted by the distant sound of the surf and the subdued traffic on the street below. That night, it had been the reflected light of Remus that had illuminated the room, and the temperature had been warm, the air moist and perfumed, her body warm and soft curled next to his.

He slid the observation slot shut with a crack and pulled the sleeping bag over his head. Kathryn and the diplomatic team traveled almost constantly and were currently spending three weeks at Starbase 718 at a conference of some sort. Even though he and Kathryn hadn’t served together in years, he found himself missing her more than he thought possible. He reminded himself that his stay on Remus would be over in just two months, yet that realization just brought insecurity about the next step in their relationship.

She occasionally surprised him by coming to him at his apartment. That was the other reason for living on the economy and separate from the others. Five times she had beamed down to his courtyard without warning, teasing him about sneaking in and finding another woman in his bed. The relationship hadn’t floundered, and Kathryn seemed more willing to “go public” with their love affair as they managed to stay together and maintain their affection for each other.

“When the time’s right,” she promised him, “we’ll simply start showing up places together and let everyone jump to conclusions.”

He rolled over, trying to find a comfortable position so he could fall asleep. The apartment was never quiet, even in the dead of night. The walls were so thin that he could hear one neighbor using the bathroom and the other neighbor’s heated argument with his roommate over whose turn it was to do the laundry. The wind rattled against the building, nearly drowning out the constant bang and creak of the heating system as it struggled to keep the water pipes from freezing. And in the background he could hear the constant hum of mining equipment as the work in the frozen sector continued tirelessly. But, he had learned to sleep in spite of the noise and noise and was soon snoring softly in his narrow bed, oblivious to the cacophony that surrounded him.

A few hours later a small person slipped quietly into the room, careful not to awaken him. Small and light, the visitor glided through the apartment without a sound, systematically visiting the tiny galley and bath before coming to him in his bed, leaning over him, a hand reaching out to grab his shoulder.

“Let me in, Chakotay, before I freeze solid.”

“Kathryn?” He sat up and stared at her shadowed form, automatically opening the sleeping bag to her as his face broke into a brilliant smile, thrilled with the sheer joy of seeing her again. “How many times do I have to tell you not to take off your clothes until you’re in bed?”

“I was afraid I’d wake you up squirming around undressing.” She crawled in, shivering with hypothermia and putting her icy feet against his legs. “How do you endure this relentless cold?”

“Thoughts of you keep me warm,” he joked as he wrapped his arms and legs around her and drew the sleeping bag shut around them both. “Did it occur to you that having an icicle climb into bed with me would also wake me up?”

“I guess not,” she chuckled, her teeth chattering. “I was too cold to think.”

He buried his face in her hair, breathing in the familiar citrus aroma of her shampoo. “I didn’t think you’d be back until day after tomorrow. I didn’t think I’d see you again until next weekend.”

“I couldn’t bear the thought of another boring reception or another week without you, so I volunteered to come back and see if I could review an advance copy of your report for Ramirez.” She smiled when he groaned at her comment. “That is, if I get around to reading it.”

“I spent all night editing it.” Then he realized she must be joking. “Kathryn, after seven years of practice, I can write a report that will suit someone even as picky as you.”

“Well, I might’ve had an ulterior motive in coming back early.” She was thawing out nicely and managed to mold her body closer to his. “Have you checked the Terran calendar lately? Do you know what today is?”

“You mean Tom’s party at Sandrine’s? Voyager’s second anniversary?”

“I should’ve known you’d remember.” She kissed him tenderly, stretching her body against his in the growing warmth of the sleeping bag. “Do you think they miss us?”

“They’re probably speculating about our mutual assignment in the Romulan sector.” He shifted slightly, sliding his legs down beside hers. He didn’t want to think about the reunion, much less talk about it, still feeling guilty about his quick departure and the half truth he’d told Seven of Nine about his reason for taking the job.

“You’re worried about Seven’s reaction to our being posted together, aren’t you? You’re afraid she’ll be embarrassed or teased.”

“I never meant to hurt her. She did absolutely nothing wrong.”

He remembered the day he’d informed Seven of his decision to join the survey team on Remus. Since his last brief tryst with Kathryn a few weeks earlier in San Francisco, he’d been distracted and distant, his thoughts constantly straying to his former captain, wondering where she was, whether she was thinking of him. But if Seven had sensed his withdrawal from her, she had simply tolerated it as part of the continuing struggle involved in human intimacy, to use her words. She’d wanted to think his departure was purely professional and not necessarily the end of their relationship.

“It’s a perfect opportunity for you,” she’d observed. “And it’s fortunate that the admiral will be close by. Would it be possible for me to join you after I complete the spring semester?”

“No,” he’d replied a little too quickly, “the Romulans are limiting the number of individuals allowed on the teams.”

“I see. Then this is a separation of extended length?”

He’d taken her hand, forcing himself to say what he should’ve said months earlier. “Seven, I won’t be coming back.”

She’d blinked, momentarily confused. “But you will eventually return to the Federation. To Earth.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “You wish to terminate our relationship?”

He’d reminded her of their earlier conversation, their need to reevaluate the “exclusivity” of their relationship. They’d talked for hours, and she’d listened to him patiently as he’d explained his need to move on, her need to find someone better suited for her. She hadn’t cried, a fact that had left him both relieved and worried.

Kathryn’s voice brought him back to the present. “Chakotay? Did you hear me?”

“I’m sorry. I must be tired.”

“I just said that I’ve missed you. How long has it been since we were together? A month? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

“I missed you, too.”

“This time last year, we hadn’t seen each other in eight months. Now we can’t stand to be apart for a fraction of that time.”

He smiled down at her, brushing her long hair out of her eyes with his hand. She was right about their growing need to be together. Much to his relief, their passion hadn’t cooled, but had simply become a deep and abiding bond between them. “I’m afraid, Kathryn, that you’ll get tired of me if you see me too often.”

She closed her eyes, pushing her cheek into his palm. “Never.”

“What would the crew have done if we’d walked into Sandrine’s together tonight?”

She chuckled. “Harry Kim might’ve needed oxygen.”

“You realize, of course, that because you aren’t there, Tom Paris will probably win the pool tournament and hold it over your head as long as possible.”

“He can do it for a year, no more. Next year, we’ll go to the reunion together, Chakotay, and I’ll put him in his place.” She opened her eyes and studied his face. “You will be with me this time next year, won’t you?”

He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. Was it possible that Kathryn Janeway, the most confident, independent woman he’d ever met, actually thought she might lose him? “I plan to be with you as long as you’ll have me, Kathryn.”

“A life sentence then?”

“A lifetime isn’t long enough for me to show you how much I love you.”

“I love you, too, Chakotay.” She wrapped her arms around him. “I wonder whether Tom’s started that damn betting pool again?”

“To be honest, Kathryn, I doubt that he ever called it off.”

“I wonder if it’s too late to place a bet?”

He chuckled. “That would be poetic justice.”

They fell asleep in each other’s arms, cocooned in the warmth of their mutual love, happy to be together at last, even if it was only for a short while.