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I was alone in our shelter when that fateful static filled the room.
„To Captain Janeway, do you read me? This is Tuvok calling Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay. Please respond.“
I needed a moment, scrambling for our com badges that had already collected a thin layer of dust.
Controlling my trembling hands was no easy task.
„Chakotay here.“
„Commander, it’s good to hear your voice. Is the captain with you? We have news, but, unfortunately, only very limited time for communication.“
Dumbfounded, I said, „She’s currently on a walk, please go ahead, Tuvok.”
„Commander, I have contacted the Vidiians. With the help of Danara Pel, we were able to obtain a medicine which we believe will effectively treat your condition. Doctor Pel also provided us with concealed access to the Vidiian’s subspace communication relays. As we are still 590 hundred light-years away from your current position, it will take us approximately six weeks to rendezvous with you. We will only be able to make contact with you again when we’re in normal comm range which means about thirty hours at our current speed of warp 6. Do you copy?“
„Understood, Tuvok. I’ll inform the captain“, I managed to reply, my head spinning and my heart racing.
„I’m looking forward to our reunion. Tuvok over and out.”
***
It’s been five weeks since then and I still can’t say with certainty what I felt at that moment. The closest description would probably be ‚everything and nothing‘. Absolute joy and hopefulness at the thought of being reunited with our colleagues and friends, living in a community again. But at the same time, there was also an immediate sense of loss creeping up on me. Fear of losing what we had built on this planet, fear of losing you, Kathryn.
At that time, the perplexity still must have been written all over my face when you came back.
I hadn’t even noticed you entering.
„Chakotay, are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost“, you said with a mixture of amusement and concern.
I honestly didn’t know what to say at that moment. In hindsight, I should have told you right away about my communication with Voyager but at that very moment, I was totally overwhelmed.
„Voyager”, I brought out, then my voice trailed off.
Your smile turned into one of compassion, likely assuming it was the blues catching up on me. „Oh, Chakotay“, you said, tenderly touching my forearm, „I know.“
Then your tone switched back to defiant optimism: „A wise man once told me not to sacrifice the present for a future that may never happen. I’m a strong believer that also applies to a past that can’t be changed.” After a short pause in which you ostentatiously raised your woven basket into my field of view, you added with a full spread smile, „And for the immediate future, I see a lovely supper with freshly plucked berries for dessert. You heat up the soup, I prepare the berries!“
***
I promised myself to tell you the next day, right after breakfast. And then I didn’t.
You sensed that something was still off and thus convinced me to go swimming with you as a welcome distraction. I guess it worked, but not in the way you thought.
Never on Voyager have I seen you so happy, so carefree, so in touch with your very being.
With your hair pinned up in a messy bun and your wet shirt clinging to your body, you were squealing with joy when we tried to dunk each other in the river’s floods.
How could I have told you then?
And we still had time, far over a month. I certainly could gift you a few more days of untroubled bliss before you had to worry about the crushing responsibility that soon would rest on your shoulders again.
***
„Life – it’s strange. Isn’t it? How fast its course can change?”, you said a few days later as you took in the beautiful scenery in front of us.
We’d climbed up the steep hill that overlooks our shelter and now sat on the grassy soil, side by side, content in our athletic accomplishment. Due to the exercise, a few strands of hair had managed to struggle free from their braid and now clung to your damp skin.
It was hard for me to keep my eyes on the landscape when the view right next to me was so intoxicating.
„What do you mean?”, I finally replied, realizing you actually expected me to answer.
„Today, it’s September 23rd“, you said, looking at your clasped hands, resting on your knees.
„Would’ve been Mark’s and my first wedding anniversary.“
„I’m sorry, Kathryn”, I said, unsure of what else to reply. But you didn’t seem to notice anyway and instead went on with your musings.
„But then we got flung halfway across the galaxy, our only concern being survival... Oh, Chakotay, those first few weeks felt like war, and I utterly unprepared for the task. How I wished for the kind of work I had before, just being a science officer again. How I longed for that wedding dress I had already picked out.” A wry chuckle escaped you.
„Well, you’ve never let it show“, I replied, my admiration for your strength and professionalism sincere. “And you know, I’ve watched you riding every day.” To lighten the mood, I said with feigned seriousness, “Such a cold and lonesome heroine.”
I didn’t miss my mark, you let out a loud laugh and playfully slapped my arm. “Tone it down with the warrior stories already!”.
Then you turned serious again, looking me straight in the eyes. “I never felt lonesome with you by my side.” For a moment, those words lingered between us. “We should have brought Voyager home together”, your voice cracked, feelings of pain and guilt contorting your delicate features.
When it seemed that you couldn’t tolerate that thought anymore, you suddenly stood up, dusting off the backside of your pants. Then you looked at me again, adding with a sardonic voice, “Well, and then we got bitten by a bug.”
At that moment, I finally, finally should have told you. Had I really been acting solely out of concern for your well-being, as I had convinced myself, I should have told you then. I should have told you that most likely we would be getting another chance at completing our mission of bringing Voyager home together.
And I promise, at that moment when I saw that hurt in your eyes, I was so close to telling you.
I don’t know what made me hesitate another second.
And then the moment was gone. You extended your hand to help me up and said with a smile I couldn’t quite read, “I suggest we explore different paths then. Some not available on Voyager. You’re with me, Chakotay?”
And by then I didn’t really want to tell you anymore.
***
Over the next few weeks, I felt we grew closer by the day. Since the day of our little hiking excursion, you finally let me into your world and I readily shared mine.
You told me about your childhood, your years at the academy, and all the events that shaped you into the wonderful woman you are today. You told me about Justin, your father, and how you lost them in such a cruel fashion way before their time. How it enforced your decision to switch from science to command so you would be more in control.
I still can’t say who of us was more surprised when one night you let your feelings overpower you and you cried in my arms. When we shared a first shy kiss.
By then, about a month had already passed since that cursed communication with Tuvok. Far too much time for any reasonable excuse as to why I hadn’t told you about it. I finally had to admit to myself that I had lied to you. A lie by omission, but a lie nonetheless. And if I was honest with myself, it was more than just a simple lie, it really was a betrayal.
I’m sure that had you known the truth, you’d never have shared your most personal feelings with me the way you did. If you had known we were supposed to function as captain and first officer again, I would never have learned so much about you.
And frankly, that’s exactly why I didn’t tell you. The closer we got, the less I could bear the thought of losing you. Because I was sure, once we were back on the ship, you’d withdraw from me, wanting to go back to a more professional relationship.
***
I think that was the point when desperation and anger joined my simmering feeling of guilt.
I didn’t want to lose you, in fact, I wanted more. So much more. I wanted all of you, body and soul.
And I thought I saw a gleam of hope to my dilemma of hiding the truth from you. If I succeeded in making you mine, if you wanted me as much as I wanted you, I hoped you’d reconsider your strict “no” concerning a romantic relationship on Voyager. I hoped that once certain barriers were crossed, even you couldn’t go back. That it might even make you condone my betrayal.
***
So I made a move on you. Usually, I’m not an impatient man but I knew that time was running out. Five weeks had already passed. Five weeks! Looking back, I don’t know what made me hesitate for so long.
When I gently pushed you against the wall to engulf your mouth in a probing kiss, you responded so fiercely that I wondered how long you had been waiting for this moment.
***
Now you lie next to me, your naked body basked in the warm light of our bedside lamp. Your long hair is slightly tousled, your skin still flushed from our lovemaking. You’ve never looked more beautiful to me. Your eyes are dark with desire and you smile at me in a way that nearly makes my heart break.
You prop yourself up on one elbow and gently trace the outlines of my tattoo. Now there are two of us smiling because we both know we’ve done this a hundred times before in our imagination.
As if you could read my mind, you say with a slight laugh in your voice, “I just want to make one thing clear, Chakotay. I didn’t sleep with you because you’re the only guy on this planet, well, although, in fact, you are!” Then you add, longingly, “I’ve wanted this for so long. To be able to give in to this yearning.”
“So, reality is on par with your fantasies?” I quip, wistfully thinking about how I just witnessed you wince and cry out in pleasure. Hoping that these last hours, this wonderful, perfect afternoon, will be enough to make you see. Myself, I long so desperately for that love and light.
“Oh, so much better, Chakotay, so much better.” And with a voice I can’t quite put, you add, “I now know why I’ve never given in before. The flames would have consumed me.”
Then you lean over to kiss me again, and it’s the brightest and yet most cruel sensation at the same time.
I still don’t know how you’ll react when you’ll soon learn the truth and I brace myself for a fallout.
Perhaps my memories of New Earth will have to be enough for the next seventy years.
Perhaps you’ll never address me again if it’s not an order.
And even in the light of this horrendous vision, I realize that I don’t find it in me to regret that I didn’t tell you.
END