Disclaimer: Paramount rules. I’m just playing with their dolls.

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

Undeniable

By Mizvoy

Chapter 7 (Chronologically)

May 17, 2379 (one year anniversary of Voyager’s return)

Monterey Starfleet Compound 0300 hours

“Come here before you’re struck by lightening,” Kathryn ordered, and Chakotay obeyed, making his way to the gate and striding up the slate pathway to the porch. She pushed the screen door open, looking past him at the trees that were being whipped around by the raging storm and the rain that was blowing horizontally across the yard. “Go on into the living room where it’s warm. You must be freezing.”

He brushed past her, through the porch and back door, and into the cozy, warm den that was pretty much as he’d imagined it would be. The light, he realized, was not produced by candles, but by the glowing embers of a fire in an imposing stone hearth that encompassed the whole northern wall. Except for the flames, a single lamp was the only illumination in the room. He glanced around, looking for Randy Wingate, but soon realized that the room was unoccupied and quiet except for the rainwater dripping from his clothes and forming a pool on the quarry tiled floor.

“I’m making a mess,” he apologized, looking down at his feet. “I’ll wipe this up before you slip on it.”

“It’s just water,” she replied, pausing in front of him to brush his wet hair away from his eyes. The warmth of her hand made him realize how cold he was and he shivered involuntarily. “We need to dry those clothes. You can change out of them in the bathroom down that hall. I’ll replicate something you can wear in the meantime.”

He nodded, noticing for the first time that she was dressed in a pale yellow silk gown and matching robe that did nothing to hide her curves. He looked around again, curious. “Where’s . . . ?”

“Are you looking for Randy?” she smiled. “He brought me here and then beamed to Paris to supervise the reception for the new Bolian ambassador day after tomorrow. You know me—duty before pleasure. Now go change before you catch cold.”

“Aye, Captain,” he grinned. He tried not to think about the fact that they were alone as he stripped out of his wet clothes and dried off with a luxurious towel. He realized that he was completely sober, the cold rain having nullified the effect of Chell’s margaritas. He could use a drink, he thought, as he imagined Kathryn moving through the cabin in her smooth yellow silk. There was a soft tap on the door and then a hand appeared through a narrow opening holding a fleece sweat suit.

“This should fit,” she said. “When you’re finished, bring out the wet clothes so I can put them in the ‘fresher.” A few minutes later, he emerged from the bath carrying his clothes wrapped in a towel just as Kathryn appeared in the hall, carrying some wet towels in her arms. He figured she’d taken the time to clean up his mess.

“Where do you want these wet things?” he asked.

“The ‘fresher’s back here,” she said, swooping toward the kitchen and taking the bundle from him. “Make yourself comfortable by the fire while I fix you some hot tea. Are you hungry?”

“No, I’m not hungry, but tea sounds great.” He realized as he sat down on the hearth that the fire was holographic. The user activated the emitters for a certain timeframe, and the computer automatically “poked” the fire and “added logs” until it gradually turned to embers and ashes. Kathryn had dialed back the program, as several logs were now burning brightly, and Chakotay was grateful for the heat that radiated from the fire.

“What in God’s name were you doing wandering around during a thunder storm?” she asked as she handed him a steaming mug of tea. “Did you and Seven have a disagreement? Or did she send you on some fool’s errand?”

He smiled, cradling the warm mug in his hands. “No disagreement. I walked her to the transporter station so she could beam back to San Francisco and didn’t get back to my quarters before the rain started. I was taking a shortcut through the alley when I smelled fresh coffee and thought of you.”

Kathryn nodded. She’d wondered why he’d been lurking around behind the cabins, afraid he might be looking for her while Seven cooled her heels elsewhere. “Seven left?”

“She went back to San Francisco to regenerate and get ready for an important interview tomorrow on the east coast.”

“The east coast?”

“Actually, Princeton. Their cybernetic program.”

“Sounds ideal for her, but why didn’t she bring a portable regeneration unit with her so she could stay with you?”

“She dislikes them, for one thing. She claims that they leave her feeling anxious and tired. I suppose it’s like sleeping on a cot instead of a bed.” Chakotay sipped the tea and felt it warming his throat. He wondered if Kathryn had any idea how unromantic life was with a former Borg drone. “And we’d initially decided not to stay, not realizing until today that there was a family picnic. Since it was too late to make changes to Seven’s schedule, she left. I’m going to the picnic alone.”

“I envy you. Like Seven, I found out about the picnic too late to change my plans.”

“Too bad. We’ll miss you.” He glanced appreciatively around the small cabin. “I can see that being on the admiral’s list makes life much more comfortable. I have a tiny one-room cell while you have a cottage complete with a fireplace all to yourself.”

She laughed. “Rank has its privileges. But they come with a price.” He noticed, for the first time, a pile of PADDs strewn across the coffee table. She’d been reading reports, as usual, ever the diligent officer.

He glanced at the clock. It was the middle of the night, and she’d been dead on her feet when he’d talked to her hours earlier. “You’ve been working? I thought you were exhausted.”

“I was exhausted. I am exhausted. But there were a couple of hot issues waiting for me after the reception. I should’ve ignored them, but I made the mistake of glancing at them instead of just falling into bed, and then . . . well, then I was too agitated to fall asleep.” She didn’t tell him that she’d also been regretting her words to him about meeting in September, that she’d been overwhelmed with guilt and anxious to cancel their plans. The reports had been an attempt to get her mind off of her actions and lull herself to sleep. A failed attempt.

“Hot issues?” He knew he shouldn’t ask. He was no longer on active duty and had no need to know, but he could see she was worried about something and instinctively wanted to help her.

She passed a hand over her eyes in frustration, remembering the political speculations she’d been studying. “I don’t think I’ll be exploring the gamma quadrant after all, Chakotay. They want to make use of my ‘considerable diplomatic skills’ by assigning me to the Romulan sector.”

He watched as she stood and walked to the sofa and sat down, putting her feet on the coffee table. He knew her so well that he could tell she was upset, even though she looked serene, and he wondered if this change of assignment was the sole cause of the problem. She often resorted to a hot bath when she was struggling to relax and come to terms with a challenge or a disappointment, and he could tell from the steamy atmosphere in the bathroom and the damp tendrils of hair around her face that she’d recently crawled from the tub. “You are a miracle worker when it comes to diplomacy, you know.”

“What I hate about it is that it’s a desk job. After spending the last year closing out Voyager, I was hoping to get back out there and do some exploring.”

“You will, don’t worry. The Romulan situation is a potential powder keg. They might just start a war or something.”

“I said exploration, Chakotay, not a war.” She sighed again and shook her head as she put her feet down and picked up her coffee mug. “I’ll get over this petulance eventually, you know. I’m still getting used to taking orders again.”

He laughed, moving away from the heat to sit beside her on the sofa. “I think you’ve been traveling too much lately. How long has it been since you were home?”

“You must mean Indiana, since I haven’t had time to even look for my own apartment, much less move into one. I haven’t been home in almost six months. Oh, I met my mom and sister on Risa in March for a short vacation, but that really doesn’t count.”

“Maybe you should take some leave. Go back to Indiana. Reconnect with friends and family.”

She shook her head. “I’m only on earth for a long weekend before heading out again. I have to return to San Francisco early tomorrow morning and then head out to Starbase 718. Maybe I should’ve left tonight like Seven did.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” He stared into the fire. Most of the time, he was glad she was not on earth. It was easier for him knowing that she was gone so much, that he didn’t have to worry about running into her unexpectedly in San Francisco. “I’ve missed seeing you around.”

“Is that so?” she smiled, obviously pleased, even though her eyes sparkled with wicked humor. “And that’s why you avoided me like the plague at the reunion.”

“You noticed that.” He gave her a shamefaced look. “I didn’t want to get in the way. You were the star of the show, Kathryn. I’m around the crew a lot, but not you. They miss you and want to spend time with you.”

She let him gloss over his withdrawal, unwilling to threaten the easy tone of their conversation by bringing up their recent past. “I miss them, too. Everyone, so much. I should thank you for all the messages you’ve posted about the crew. You’ve done a great job of keeping me up-to-date on the major happenings in everyone’s lives.”

“It was always my job to keep you informed on the crew.”

“And you always did it to perfection.” She emptied her cup and relaxed into the cushions. “Speaking of jobs, how about your book?”

“I sent you the draft. It’s supposed to come out soon.”

“The draft was wonderful,” she admitted, looking a little embarrassed. “I meant to write and tell you how much I liked the blend of history and story telling. You have a real talent for writing, Chakotay. I felt like I was inside that anomaly with John Kelly.”

“Seven thought it read too much like fiction.”

Kathryn frowned. “I hope you didn’t take that comment too seriously.”

He rubbed his face, reluctant to tell her the truth but strangely compelled to do so in spite of himself. “We’ve been struggling, Kathryn. Our interests, our natures, are so different. It’s like we don’t speak the same language.”

“They say opposites attract,” she quipped, immediately regretting what was a flippant response to a serious comment. “I’m sorry. That was a pat answer, and you deserve better.”

“I deserve exactly what I’ve got.”

She turned to him, a wave of guilt washing over her. He was involved with Seven because she’d pushed him away for seven years. “I’m to blame for this, not you. And certainly not Seven.”

The conversation had finally turned personal, and Chakotay found himself relieved to have things out in the open. “The blame is mine. I lost focus. My single goal should have been to support you, to lighten your load. It was selfish and egotistical of me to get involved with Seven when you were so alone.”

She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the sofa cushions, remembering the many times he’d walked into her ready room or quarters to report on a personnel problem or troubling episode, always finding something humorous or ironic in the story to make her smile. As he spoke, he would shift his weight from one foot to the other, pull on his ear, give her a wry grin as he described the foibles and spats that seemed inevitable when people lived and worked in such close quarters. She opened her eyes and smiled at him, “You always helped me smile and keep my perspective, Chakotay. That didn’t change because of Seven. You needed something I couldn’t give you. Something Seven could. I never really felt alone as long as you were there.”

He could feel a blush crawling up his neck. “I wish I could believe that.”

“We were always a good team, Chakotay,” she murmured, her voice soft, her eyes unfocused, remembering. “Sometimes I wish you were still with me. I grew accustomed to you, and there are times when I’d do anything to have you beside me again.”

His eyes widened as the meaning of her words hit him. Yet, he could never be her first officer again, never go back to that limited, unnatural relationship. He looked away, unable to breathe. “I . . . I couldn’t . . . couldn’t . . .”

She chuckled, leaning toward him and placing her hand on his arm. “Don’t stutter, Chakotay. I was just day dreaming. Besides, I’d never impose those parameters on you again.”

He turned to face her, his eyes dark with barely restrained passion, his warm hand covering hers. “Kathryn.”

She pulled away, alarmed at the way her pulse jumped at his touch. “Chakotay, stop. There’s something important I’ve been fretting over and we need to discuss. Having you appear at my door like this has made everything much easier to rectify before it’s too late.”

“What are we rectifying?” he asked, trying not to panic.

“I can forgive myself for what happened in San Francisco last September. I had been drinking. You were relieved to find me still sane and in one piece. We were both ecstatic that Voyager’s crew was finally, truly free.” She stood up, walking to the hearth, keeping her back to him. “It was impulsive, spontaneous, and impetuous. And maybe there was a little bit of curiosity . . . about how we would’ve been together if . . .” She stopped, and he could tell that she was gathering her strength before she turned to face him, her voice firm. “But to meet again on purpose would be wrong. We both know that it would be.”

He studied her as if he’d never see her again. He wanted to memorize the long, auburn hair pulled haphazardly onto her head, damp tendrils curling by her face. The porcelain skin sprinkled with cinnamon freckles, the flashing dark blue eyes. The slender physique and diminutive height sheathed in smooth yellow silk. The power of her personality, her charisma, her character as she confronted him took his breath away. She was a tantalizing combination of contradictions—brilliant, yet simple and down-to-earth; petite, yet powerful and commanding; controlled, yet enthusiastic and passionate; serious, yet witty and fun-loving. He never tired of her, never tired of looking at her or talking to her.

When Voyager had burst into the Alpha Quadrant the previous year, he’d been so relieved to be over her, to have moved on to Seven of Nine. After nearly seven years of fascination and hopeless dedication, he’d finally found someone else to love, someone just as complex and compelling, someone who was ready to commit to him and love him back. He’d found a life partner and had put Kathryn Janeway behind him once and for all.

Or so he’d thought.

He heard the faint beep of the ‘fresher as it signaled the end of its cycle. “My clothes are dry,” he said as he stood up, breaking the charged silence between them just as the second wave of the storm gave the cabin a violent shake. “I should go so you can get some sleep.”

“Wait until the storm lets up, or you’ll just get soaked again.” She moved toward him, stopping to brush his hair away from his tattoo, so close he could see down the front of her gown at the hint of cleavage. She couldn’t let him leave until she’d explained to him, as gently as possible, that she was not going to meet him as she’d promised, but she dreaded seeing the hurt in his eyes as she rejected him again.

At that moment, a lightening bolt struck a tree outside the cabin with a deafening roar and a blue-white flash of light that first blinded them and then plunged them into total darkness. Kathryn, who had never really outgrown a terror of thunderstorms that stemmed from her childhood on the Indiana plains, instinctively threw her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. For a moment, he was too shocked to react, but then he put his arms around her and tried to soothe her.

“We’re okay, Kathryn,” he comforted her. “The power will come back up as soon as the computer cycles through its diagnostic.” She was trembling in his arms, and at first Chakotay thought she was crying, only to realize that she was shaking with laughter. “Kathryn?”

“I’m sorry,” she giggled, her voice muffled by his sweatshirt. “I’ve stood on the bridge and faced down the Kazon, the Hirogen, the Vidiians, the Malon, the Borg-how many, Chakotay?—but one lightening bolt and I’m a six-year old again, scared to death and ready to crawl under my bed with the dog.”

“It just surprised you, that’s all.” He chuckled with her. “But, I doubt that the crew’s confidence would’ve been strengthened if the captain had jumped into the first officer’s lap every time we went to red alert.”

“No matter how much I wanted to sometimes,” she admitted, pulling back to look up at him with a sheepish grin. “There were so many times I needed a hug.”

“I wish I’d known that.”

“How much confidence would the first officer have had in the captain if she’d been that weak, Chakotay?”

“Who says needing reassurance is weakness? Did you ever think that maybe the first officer needed some hugs, too?”

Suddenly, they became aware of their close proximity, and what had been a friendly, comforting embrace transformed itself into something that was much more. Kathryn found herself staring into his eyes as she realized again how much they’d needed each other on Voyager. But that was over, a year in the past, and everything had changed.

The holographic fire came back to life and the glow of the single lamp returned, but Kathryn didn’t move from his arms. “I want you to know that I don’t regret what happened in San Francisco. But we can’t let it happen again, Chakotay. Not ever.”

He felt an icy fist close around his heart as he understood what she was implying. He swallowed, struggling for his voice, gripping her shoulders with his hands. “You want to cancel our meeting in September?”

“I think we should.” She couldn’t hide the tears in her eyes as she looked up at him. “Don’t you? Think of Seven. We can’t hurt her like this.”

He cupped her cheek, running a thumb over her lips, his other hand on her waist. “Kathryn,” he whispered, “this one time, in all the years I’ve known you, let it be just you and me. Not the ship, not the crew, not Seven. Just the two of us. Our needs.”

What could she do when he looked at her with such love and devotion? What could she say when she knew the wrong words could break his heart and ruin the relationship that had become the very bedrock of her existence? Should she deny the truth and send him away before it was too late? Should she turn him away one last time, and forever? “Chakotay,” she started, shaking her head.

“No,” he stopped her, pulling her firmly against his body. “I love you. I know you don’t want to believe it, but I do. I’ve loved you for years, and whether we meet again or avoid each other for the rest of our lives, I’ll always love you. Nothing can change that.” He paused to take a deep breath. “Be honest with yourself, Kathryn, for once in your life. Be honest with me. Tell me what’s in your heart. Tell me the truth.”

She felt the tears streaming down her face, felt her aching need for him in the core of her being. She feared the words, feared the change they would inevitably cause in their relationship, and yet she owed him the truth a dozen times over. She owed them both the truth. “I do love you, Chakotay, you know I do. But . . .”

“No ‘buts.'” He cupped her face in his hands, wiping the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs as he gave her a look of pure elation. “We’re in love with each other, Kathryn. Don’t make it more complicated than it needs to be.”

He leaned down and brushed her lips with his, and she slid her hands under his sweatshirt, feeling the smooth warmth of his skin and the power of his body as she deepened the kiss. The storm continued to batter the cabin, but the occupants were oblivious to everything but each other. All rational thought evaporated in the heat of their passion.