Revisions
by Melissa
Final scene, located in part two between triple asterisks, by Jennifer Ferris
Author's Note/Dedication: I have struggled with this story since first seeing Resolutions (thanks, Sandy!) about two months ago. Carrying the story from idea to conception was not as easy as I thought, and I especially struggled with the end. After much back and forth with someone in email, that person wrote a sample end scene and passed it on. I liked it so much I asked if I could make it part of the story, and luckily, she agreed. So with pleasure I present Revisions, with a final scene by Jennifer Ferris, and dedicate the body of the story to her--not just for writing said scene, but for listening to me rant and stimulating my brain on countless occasions already. Thanks, Jen.
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Part One
One longing look at him before the transporter took them back to the ship. Nothing since.
The turbolift, meant to whisk you from deck to deck in minutes, had never seemed so slow or so confining. He looked at her back, saw the muscle leaping at the base of her neck, saw the stiffness of her shoulders, her elbows bent, arms crossed in command stance. Several deep breaths did nothing to calm his building anger, which soared every moment she ignored him. He should have known this would happen, despite the assurances she had made him, despite her promises to try. They had been back on the ship only an hour and he already felt like the Maquis leader again; shut out and mistrusted. She was back on her ship now. There was apparently no room for *them* on Voyager. With anyone else he would have said he was overreacting; that all she needed was a period of adjustment--but with Kathryn, he could see that the atmosphere had already affected her, that she was changing back to the Janeway of old before his eyes. He'd be damned if he'd stand by after three months alone with her and let it happen.
"You can ignore me all you want, *Kathryn*," he said quietly. "It still won't go away. It won't change."
She would not turn to face him. She couldn't. She knew that once she met his eyes her resolve would vanish. She knew she wasn't being fair, that he expected her to comply with the decisions they had made on the planet before beaming up. But she hadn't known then how she would feel being back on her ship, in the bowels of Voyager, amongst the crew who had risked their lives to retrieve their Captain and Commander. She hadn't known how torn she would feel. She hadn't counted on regret, or sorrow.
"Well, *Captain*, I can't say this is a surprise--I wish I could. You can pretend all you want that you don't wish we were back there as much as I do. But I know the truth, no matter how much you decide to take out your regret on me."
She whirled on him at that, mouth open to snap a reply.
The turbolift halted at the bridge.
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It was surely the longest duty shift of his life. He had toured the ship as quickly as possible, avoiding everyone he possibly could, and completed all the checks she requested of him--early. He had entered her ready room, handed her the padds without looking at her, and walked back out before the doors had even closed the first time. He could feel the eyes of the bridge crew on him as he paced restlessly across the command level, could feel the surprise when he reappeared so quickly. He saw the looks Kim and Paris exchanged when they thought he wasn't looking, knew they were wondering what was going on. Why the Captain and Commander weren't smiling, or talking to each other--or them, for that matter.
"I'll be in my office," Chakotay finally said. "Tuvok, you have the bridge."
"Yes, sir," replied the Vulcan from the tactical position, making no move down to command.
The doors closing behind him, shutting out the curious faces, was balm to open wounds. He sank down at his desk, head falling into his hands. He had never thought it would be so hard to keep up the charade all day. *If it's this hard now, what will it be like tomorrow? Next week?* He propped his chin up on his arms, eyes closing, heart sinking even farther. His heart had been given away months ago, and now he was leaving it behind. On New Earth. Down amongst the monkey she had befriended, the bathtub he had lovingly built her, the home they had begun to create, the tomato beds she faithfully tended, the bed where their whispers had dwelt in the realm of "always". His throat closed painfully at the memory of two clasped hands that had started everything for them.
His voice had shaken slightly towards the end of the story, but he met her eyes bravely as he spoke the last line. "...and in that way, the warrior began to know the true meaning of peace."
Her eyes shone with tears, her lips moving upwards in a trembling smile. An enchanted smile. He had enchanted her. He could see it on her face, and his heart soared impossibly higher. "Is that really an ancient legend?" she asked.
The grin broke over his face, and he dropped his gaze to his lap for a moment before looking back at her, seriously. "No. But that made it easier to say."
He watched in amazement as she raised her hand slowly toward him, her fingers lifted, inviting his. He brought his forward, twining his fingers in hers, his thumb gently rubbing hers. He blinked the tears out of his eyes as she tightened her grip, almost painfully, and they sat there like that for a long while. Then, suddenly, they began to talk.
About the rest of their lives.
Together.
He wondered for a long time if the "defining parameters" comment had been made to force a confession from him, to get him to say it first, to open the discussion she was afraid to begin. Whatever her original reason, it had been worth it. The ensuing conversation, which lasted most of the night, was empty of the words "protocol", "decorum", and "parameters". Instead they had outlined plans for the future, for exploration of the planet with the shuttle; ignoring his laughing protests she had taken his unfinished sand painting and drawn plans for a bigger garden; he had taken it back from her and added plans for a large addition to their home. Their *home*. *Their* home. They had each repeated the words several times. And in the morning, when their grumbling stomachs belied the need to sleep and cramped muscles insisted they get up and begin moving, she had leaned over and kissed him, briefly, shyly, before going outside. He had sat there for several minutes, believing that he would wake up at any moment and find himself back on Voyager, alone. A mindless exuberance had swept through him, and he had jumped up, walking outside.
She knelt amongst the tomato plants, pulling up weeds, patting down dirt--and he was enchanted in turn. He all but ran to her, pulling her up by her waist, turning her, picking her up, spinning her around. She laughed down at him, her hands going around his neck as they spun until finally his knees gave way and they tumbled to the ground. He held her tightly to him, her head tucked in the crook of his neck, his free arm caressing her hair, her leg nestled between his.
"Kathryn," he murmured, and his voice was full of tenderness, and gratitude. No other words were necessary.
"Chakotay?"
He jerked up, startled, to see B'Elanna standing before him. From the look on her face, she had tried to get his attention several times.
"Yes, Lieutenant?"
The half-Klingon looked at him, eyes narrowed. "We missed you."
Chakotay nodded. "We appreciate your efforts to retrieve us."
"Do you?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Permission to speak freely, sir?"
"When have you ever asked before?" he muttered irritably.
B'Elanna pulled out the chair on the other side of his desk and sat down, leaning towards him. "You don't exactly seem thrilled to be back."
Chakotay met her gaze evenly, the emotions in his eyes carefully masked. "Of course I'm happy. It's...good to be back on Voyager."
She looked at him a long moment before he finally broke the stare and looked away. "Who are you trying to kid, Chakotay? What happened on that planet?"
"I told you I couldn't cook, Chakotay, but you just wouldn't believe me!" She grinned at him from across the table as he politely tried to deposit his mouthful of food in a napkin. "You should have come back from the woods a little earlier."
He wiped his mouth with the corner of the napkin before wadding the whole thing up in a small pile in the middle of his barely touched lunch. One eyebrow quirked at her. "I think we should have taken Neelix up on his offer of leola root seed."
Her outraged bark of laughter hit him just before her napkin did. "That's the most insulting thing I've ever heard you say, Commander," she said, pushing back from the table in mock annoyance and striding towards the door. His arm shot out, grabbing her wrist and pulling her backwards so she fell awkwardly across his lap. "No, Chakotay, don't try to make it up to me now," she snapped, trying to hide her smile.
"We can't possibly eat this concoction you call lunch, Kathryn," he said, his lips curving upwards as one hand raised to trace the contours of her face.
"I'm the Replicator Queen, Chakotay. You're the only one who's good at cooking, I'm afraid."
"That's not the only thing I'm good at," he murmured suggestively, his face moving closer to hers.
"We can't have that for lunch," she chided gently, her body already shifting towards his.
"Who said anything about lunch?"
"...tell me?"
"What?"
B'Elanna pursed her lips together, staring at him across the desk. "Are you going to tell me what's the matter between you and Captain Janeway?"
Chakotay ran a hand backwards through his hair, reaching for the half-full water glass next to him and taking a sip. "Nothing's the matter, B'Elanna. We just have a lot of work to do." He put the water down and reached for the top padd in the pile next to him. "If you'll excuse me?"
The engineer stood up slowly, her eyes still on him as she backed towards the door. "Breakfast tomorrow?"
"Sure."
B'Elanna turned and exited the office, and he let the padd fall to the desk. He closed his eyes again briefly as auburn hair seemed to fall around him, the memories still too close and raw to be able to set the pain aside completely. New Earth had been home for three months; Voyager had been home for over two years. Each had one common element.
Kathryn.
'Home is where you are', say the Maquis, he thought. Home for him had become where she was. And if they had never touched, never made love, never admitted their feelings for one another back in that drab gray shelter, he would have still been content to stay by her side for the rest of their lives. The hope that one day they would be together would have sustained him for the journey. But now, knowing that she loved him, knowing the scent of her hair as it fell across his shoulder in the morning, knowing the taste of her lips beneath his, knowing the way their bodies fit together as if they had been cut from one mold, he could not return to the platonic relationship of before. He didn't know how he would bear it. He didn't know how to hide it anymore, except behind the mask of brusque anger he had been wearing since their return to the ship.
Promises had been made.
"You scamp!" she laughed at him, pushing her dripping hair out of her eyes, hands on the hips of her soaked dress, her 'command stance' made even funnier by her bedraggled state. He grinned down at her from the boat, the sun shining off his hair, his eyes twinkling in the afternoon light.
"You look good like that, Kath," he said. Her eyes narrowed a little, and her hand extended up to him.
"Wouldn't it be more fun if we were both wet, Chakotay?"
His stomach lurched up and back rapidly at her words, his groin tightening instinctively, his pulse already rising. "Perhaps," he rasped, his throat suddenly dry. He placed his hand in hers and allowed her to pull him down into the water. They stood together in the waist high river, hands, lips, and bodies coming together naturally with the ease of longtime lovers though they had not yet taken that final step. Several moments later, her legs began to weaken, and his arms tightened around her back as he plundered her open mouth.
"We're going to drown if we don't move to the shore," she murmured into his mouth. He pulled back from her at that, his hands moving up to cup her face, pushing errant strands of her hair away, running a finger down her cheek softly.
"I'd never let anything happen to you, Kathryn," he said quietly, and marveled at how she could bring him from arousal to near-tears in seconds.
"I know," she whispered, the strength of their feelings solid between them. Her fingers trailed up to his face, tracing his eyes, his nose, brushing the inked lines on his forehead gently. She smiled, and he caught his breath at the joy in it. "My warrior," she said, her hand linking with his.
"I promise to always bring you the peace you have given me," he replied, raising their clasped hands and kissing her fingers.
"My peace comes from you. It always has."
He caught her up in his arms, burying his face and emotions in her neck as he carried her to the shore. "I love you," he said, setting her down on her feet, and then lifted her chin towards him, concerned, as tears welled up in her eyes. "What is it?" And then he realized. "Surely you never doubted that I love you? Even if I've yet to say it?"
She shook her head. "No. I knew. I just--you never--"
He pulled her back into his embrace, his chin resting on her hair. "I love you, Kathryn Janeway. Get used to hearing it."
"I'll never get used to hearing it. And I love you, Chakotay--I love you."
He could bury himself in work. The pain would still be there when he surfaced, but he could delay it, cloak it for extended periods of time. Avoid his quarters, where he would have to envision her in his bed. Avoid the bridge at all costs, though thankfully she had taken to spending most of her shifts in the ready room. Avoid the mess hall at peak times. Avoid her whenever possible by using the ship's computer to track her presence. His office was safe; she never came there. He took to haunting far corners of the ship like a ghost; he spent so much time in Engineering B'Elanna threatened to enlist him to clean the plasma converters. He spent long hours in Stellar Cartography blindly reviewing star charts because he knew no one would question him or bother him. And he always, always carried a padd with him, so he could become engrossed in it if possible. He'd read the same reports so many times he could recite them by heart if required.
He knew the bridge crew was staring at him again; he could feel their eyes on the back of his head as he reviewed Paris' helm report for the third time in a row. He had seen the looks Kim and Donaldson were exchanging when they thought he wasn't paying attention; he knew that everyone was wondering what had happened. He had taken to counting the minutes until the end of his bridge shift, and knew that any moment the beta crew would start to arrive on the turbolift.
*Finally,* he thought as the doors swished open to reveal Paris and Ensign Richards, the first arrivals. He waited for Paris to descend to command level, watched Richards replace Harry at ops. Quickly he reviewed the readings of alpha shift with the Lieutenant, and then handed over command of the bridge. As he began his way up to the lift doors, he saw the ready room doors slide open. *Damn,* he cursed silently as he stepped aside to allow the rest of beta to enter the bridge. He waited for Janeway to enter the lift, hesitating a moment to see if Tuvok was joining them and cursing again when he saw the Vulcan begin to brief the new tactical officer. He stepped inside, turning to face the doors as they slid shut.
"Commander," Janeway greeted him evenly.
"Captain." He bit out.
Several moments of silence passed as Chakotay struggled to remain quiet, until he could stand it no longer and snapped, "Computer, halt lift."
"Computer, resume."
"Computer, *halt lift*."
They turned and glared at each other, Chakotay doing a very good duplicate of the face Janeway usually reserved for the Kazon or the Borg. "What do you think you're doing, Commander?"
"What do you think *you're* doing, Kathryn? Are you so different from the woman who slept in my arms the last two months? How can you just turn off those feelings?"
"I am the Captain of this ship, Chakotay, and the crew's needs come first." But her voice wavered on the last words, and he lunged in further.
"Not to me, Kathryn," he said quietly. "'From that moment on, her needs would come first.'" he quoted, taking a step closer to her. "The crew needs a content and happy Captain, Kathryn. We are better together than apart."
She looked away from him, took a step back towards the wall. "We are together, Chakotay. Every day."
He snorted. "Every day. When you hide in your ready room, and I spend more time in Stellar Cartography than the ensigns assigned there." He stepped closer still, not stopping until she backed into the wall. "We need each other, Kathryn. We need what we had on that planet, we need it here." One hand lifted, large fingers stroked the side of her face. He saw her shiver in response to his touch. "Kathryn. I love you. Please."
Janeway met his eyes for a moment, and then looked down. "I--I can't."
Chakotay straightened up, dropping his hand abruptly and turning away from her, eyes closing briefly, recognizing that the dull ache in his heart had increased. "Resume," he said quietly, and got off at the officers' quarters without a look back to see Janeway still against the wall of the lift, regret shadowing her eyes like fog.