A simple misunderstanding
A silly piece about two silly people
by
vanhunks
based on a "what if " scenario of Amanda47
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Paramount owns Janeway and Chakotay.
SUMMARY: A short humorous [hopefully!] piece for J/C. Based on a "what if" scenario of Amanda47 who posed this in Voyager's Muse of VAMB. Admiral Janeway could have been lying about Chakotay and Seven of Nine. Captain Janeway could have heard wrong, couldn't she? This is a short tale about a simple misunderstanding...
A SIMPLE MISUNDERSTANDING
You don't have to agree with me. My assessment is based on my decades long association with the humans concerned. Two of the same. The same two. Only separated by a universe, the one maybe right next to the one you're in, or heaven forbid, part of the same timeline. Preferably then, a different universe. Janeway and her other self from the other universe or the other future or whatever you want to call it – these things did always give me headaches – are two of the stupidest officers to straddle two quadrants in Starfleet.
There. That is my assessment. They are two stupid people. Thesaurus says "unintelligent", "dim", "thick", "dense" "slow," "dull", "dim-witted", "brainless". Now while they are by no means any of these interesting characteristics, they do on occasion act as though they have no brain, as evidenced by some of the decisions they have made concerning their lives and happiness and eternal joy.
Here is a conversation between these two, on Voyager, a day or so before it unexpectedly arrives in the Alpha Quadrant. But before I lapse into the tribulations of captains and admirals and first officers and Borg, I think you should know that while I serve very well as a third person narrator, I am not that omniscient, nor will I claim intimate knowledge of the thought processes - in literary terms often entertained by the great writers of the twentieth century, known as stream of consciousness. I have observer status and sometimes, I tell you, I get the best seat in the house.
Now I have to impart this little bit of information before I can get started on that conversation between two of the same, the AKJ and the CKJ of the AQ and the DQ.
I hail as a twentieth century pest, often maligned and dare I say, unfairly judged to be an instigator of pandemics and other global pestilences. Mark me: my own perceptions may differ from all humans who had at some point in their lives come in contact with me. As Musca Domestica, intrepid insect of the underworld and progenitor of maggots, my best characteristic has been my ability to go unnoticed when humans converse. They may claim me a pest. I've been swatted, sprayed, caught barehanded and shaken drunk, spat at, mutilated. Why, it's been known for flies to cause sleeping sickness too, but that wasn't me. It was my cousin Tsetse. But let me not get into that little debate, though I must add here that it's not entirely improbable that he was responsible for Janeway – the Captain, that is – being caught napping while her first officer was soon to inherit a tag of "erstwhile" and "wed".
It is not easy being a twentieth century progenitor of maggots thrown into a twenty fourth century starship, gracing the bulkheads of ready rooms, private rooms and a few other [officers'] rooms. There to engage in what had always been – except in cinematic trickery – the greatest physical asset of flies: the ability to cling to upside down surfaces as naturally born to such an ability.
It was not me, but a group of twenty first century fanatics who wanted to see the behind the scenes
trials and tribulations and private conversations of certain people, notably the Kathryns Janeway. I'm somewhat disoriented here, but not entirely out of it that I couldn't make up my mind about what I saw. Or heard. Or sensed.
The conversation. Ah, yes. Janeway and Janeway.
She's come to tell her she could be home tomorrow and she's come to inform her of twenty crew who died in the meantime and she's come to warn her of imminent loneliness some twenty three years on. The imminent loneliness very was closely associated with a certain first officer [soon to be "erstwhile"] who would, in lieu of a waiting period of seven years, choose another mate. That could be prevented upon the intervention of the younger Janeway who should cease to be sacrificial in her sensibilities and change the tide of the future forever.
Think about it: Janeway of the Future suddenly struck with self-serving, less than noble sentiments in warning Janeway of the present that there's no place like home and hearth and husband and well… you get my meaning. Would Janeway of the Present succumb to such lack of nobility in destroying the happiness of another? Borg at that?
"Don't get me wrong, Admiral – "
"I'm never wrong, Janeway."
"Have I always been this obnoxious?"
"Always."
"Why then, you're a bitch."
"I'm you."
"I hate to think that is what I'll become."
"No, Captain. That is not what you will become one day. That is what you are."
"Then I am a misrepresentation of myself."
The Admiral burst out laughing, the creases in her face deepening, exposing her encroaching frailty. The laugh, I should tell you all, sounded like a cackle, so that "witch" instead of "bitch" would have suited her better.
"Captain Janeway, you have refused to heed my warning, so let me spell it out to you…again."
Now, it must be said here that both ladies [ladies!] were standing hands on their hips and why not? The one was a version of the other and certain habits never die, see? Much like boxers would size one another up in a ring and skip light-footed around before punches would fall and one would kiss the floor, or hockey players facing off, or fencers crying en guard! or… Well, you know what I mean. They stood, facing off, and I could swear the older Janeway was going to deck her younger self for being so dim-witted.
"I heard you, Admiral."
"No, you didn't. Commander Chakotay will marry Seven of Nine. She takes the gap you should have filled, you dim-witted slowpoke. Take your precious parameters and burn them, for the love of Mike. They never did us any good. It's your fault!"
"Mine?"
"What do you think? I'm the later version of you – you miserable itch. You made me what I am now."
"I don't believe this…" the younger Janeway cried in outrage.
I say outrage because CKJ lifted her hand and wanted to strike the older AKJ. Her cheeks flamed. Twin spots of red denoting only two of three things: anger and anger.
"The Borg makes a play for your man, Captain and you step back, because you have honour, you have self-respect, you have dignity, you have compassion, you have an overdose of guilt."
"He can't be in love with her…"
Boy, she could have said, "He's not my man…"
"Because you think he ought to be in love with us? With you? Look at me! I am the result of your complacency!"
The younger Kathryn gave a shrug.
"If you're the result, then I let my conscience speak louder than my desire. I stand with that. If Commander Chakotay and Seven of Nine have a romantic liaison, then I am the last person to stand in their way."
"Romantic liaison? They marry! They love. They fuck."
"That…you are crude…"
Oh,
yeah… And I'm you… [that's me, the fly on the wall].
But AKJ is relentless. Seems to me as though she were fighting for her very existence. And why not? Whatever decision CKJ was going to make, would impact on her future, not so? Forgive this poor Musca his confusion. AKJ launches into part 2 of her diatribe.
"Seven of Nine dies three years later in a shuttle crash. Then some more years after that, your man dies. Of a broken heart. Of loneliness. You – the future you - visit his grave regularly and become old next to it - old and grey and sick and cheerless. I – " Here AKJ paused, then slowly drew in a deep breath and expelled it equally slowly. "And I become…this."
"That's in your universe."
"I've done my homework. We're in the same timeline, Captain. Look at me. Do I look happy to you? You'll be getting these grey hairs, mark me. You will have all these damned old age wrinkles nobody wants. Your complexion will be sallow and unlit by life. You will have breasts that hang like old cow udders and thighs that look like dried strips of meat. Try it the day you stand in front of your cheval - yes, you will have one of those one day, and stand naked there. What will you be? A roadmap of ancient lines. You'll hate what you see and why? Because no man has touched that body and serviced it good and proper."
Jeez… Did I tell you the old lady can get really crude? Don't ask me about her little bedroom secrets…
"They laugh at me," she continued while the younger Janeway blushed at her projected self's crude statements. "Children. In my own neighbourhood in Indiana."
"Why would they do that?"
"Because, you little idiot, I become an eccentric. I walk around carrying tomatoes, for heaven's sake. A stupid little kid threw a tangerine at me. I pelted him with tomatoes. Know what, Janeway? I think the road is the corridor of this ship and I walk on that road, alone."
"What's so wrong with that?"
"In the dead of night, until Harry Kim finds me and guides me back to my house?"
"I won't become that, Admiral."
"Wrong, Captain. How many times must I remind you I – AM – YOU - ?"
So here's the do: these two ladies deadlocked in loneliness. I was only sitting there, quite above the Admiral's head in the Janeway quarters, minding my own business. So how could I help overhearing them? The younger Janeway seemed unfazed by the older Janeway. The older Janeway, stolen a shuttle and traveling all the way to the DQ in search of CKJ, only wanting the younger Janeway to get home and get on with it and get her man. That man, according to the older Janeway, was happily dining, wining and bedding the Borg.
"That is not true," said Captain Janeway, but the way her face paled spoke volumes.
The way I wanted to drop from the ceiling and smite younger Janeway with my feelers… Why, cousin Tsetse would have had a fit. But Captain Janeway was thinking…thinking… Only yesterday she heard sounds coming from Commander Chakotay's cabin as she passed it.
"Trust me," the Admiral promised. "The way my life ends is the way you're going to play it."
The Admiral looked resolute in her stance.
"You do what you have to do and leave me to do what I have to do, Admiral," Captain Janeway said finally, as if she were addressing a completely different person and not a future version of herself.
************
END PART ONE
PART TWO
That happened on Voyager. The admiral left, did her thing, engaged the Borg and its Queen and who knows? There may be a Borg cube drifting out there carrying the latest Queen of the Delta Quadrant. Maybe the cube didn't explode and all… She did always want to be a queen. Albeit it a little old in the bones and grey in the hair and saggy in the bosom, I am sure the Borg Hierarchy saw to it that her flesh rejuvenate, her hair fall out and her bosom part with the rest of her body.
Queen of all she surveys. Rows upon rows of assimilated.
This fly is taking you to sojourn with Captain Janeway while traveling towards Earth. Her mind, as I can tell you, has been working overtime. Suddenly the tossing and turning in bed in the dead of night is no longer caused by the pressures of command, but by the admiral's prophetic words. I say prophetic, for who but Captain Kathryn Janeway would read a man's motives other than what it is supposed to be read? Why she even listened to her future self, is beyond me. I have no compunction in breaking rules and confounding every known fly species in the heavens, and to tell you that I was as baffled by her actions as every Maquis a week later, is putting it very mildly indeed. Very mildly.
Ah, but you know me - sometimes omniscient, most times observant Musca Domestica. I have seen what no one has seen, not even those who think they know better, or tried to turn a television tube inside out and try to divine the precept of : if it didn't happen on the screen, it didn't happen.
Now this precept has been the saving grace of authors – fanfiction authors - for they have divined the undivined and placed the Janeways with every known crewman and alien and placed the Chakotays with most crewmen and some desirable female aliens. What a good thing it was that they never did listen to certain powers and idiots! They've married them, let them have babies. They've tortured them, folded them, mutilated them, loved them, separated them, brought them together again. They've had them meet at the Academy, in hospital, somewhere stranded on worlds other than New Earth. They glorified them in song, in poetry, in the tub, in the shower… They've connived and strived and created and recreated and I tell you all: they've out-danced, outwitted, out-written and out-thought the powers that be, hallowed be their names for evermore.
Now, about the thing that led to Janeway ignoring the Maquis and ignoring her first officer and listening to her future self after all. Besides listening to her own heart which I tell you, BETRAYED her. It rang falsely, since she has become adept at convincing herself to believe something utterly against her better instinct. What if? asked that girl Mandy. Yes, what if? If it hadn't been for "what if", heaven alone knows how utterly uninspired Voyager and the tales of the Delta Quadrant really would have been.
Instinct? Good grief! The woman had none. If she had, she would have bedded the man way back after the Array, and then too, she would have thought of all sorts of PARAMETERS that would have provided the unnecessary impediments to opening up.
Please get your mind out of the gutter. I know what you're thinking.
Captain Janeway blew many chances over the years but she was going to let the one chance slip through her fingers through a simple misunderstanding. Did you ever think it was above Starfleet Captains and Admirals to be so colossally stupid? Here's me, watching them and actually praying they wouldn't listen to one another. Okay, Captain Janeway didn't listen, but it was easy to let suspicion take hold once the seed of it had been planted, no less by a personage far greater than the Captain. And in such a dramatic fashion too, coming from the future and her very presence suggesting that every word issuing from her mouth to be an incontrovertible truth.
But, the Admiral could have been wrong…
So yeah, I'm in the Janeway traveling circus walking down the corridor when she paused as she was about to pass the quarters of her first officer.
Her ears pricked. I tell you, since the Admiral's momentous visit and her subsequent alleged assimilation into the new Delta Queen, Captain Janeway was exceptionally attentive to any sound issuing from the Commander's quarters. He had already turned down a dinner engagement. Since it was the first time it happened since they had started this little cozy, comfortable and very suitable ambiance in her quarters, that caused her to frown. The Commander kept his smile, endimpled those cheeks to almighty depths designed to crumble any resolve of hard-hearted captains and suggested the now famous "rain check" excuse for not attending to her needs.
Another sleepless night and the following evening, about an hour after Alpha Shift, she occasioned to drift past his rooms in a not entirely new ritual, since she had always walked past the commander's rooms. This time though, she paused as she heard voices. At any other time Janeway would have entered without knocking practically, such was the depth of the friendship and the open door policies that marked the depth of that friendship. But now, her step was hesitant, the hand that raised to press the chime far too cautious.
Naturally, there must be someone with him. She heard, didn't she?
Here's the famous "rain check" check…
"Chakotay, surely there must be a more romantic way that you can propose," she heard Seven of Nine say to the as yet, behind the yellow door Chakotay. It was definitely Seven of Nine's voice. Who else could it be? The woman made a hologram out of him. He took her on three dates and if tonight's "rain check" was anything to go by, the date had far surpassed the sell by period and evolved into "will you marry me". The Captain raised this woman-child from child-to-woman so she knew the nuances, recognised inflections and became acutely aware of the betrayal. Serves her right for raising woman-child to become all woman. It's like biting that hand that feeds you, isn't it? After all I've done for you, now you've taken my man?
But it seemed our intrepid Captain wasn't going to walk off, short of having to walk IN on the proposal see? What is it about human nature – and here I deem Captain Kathryn Janeway to be consummate in allowing this malaise to plague her – that they love to punish themselves? Instead of walking away like I asked her, nay, implored her, the woman entrenched herself at the entrance to Chakotay's cabin. Or else, one's body could be arrested in a kind of stupor, the brain willing the flesh and the flesh refusing to comply. Like fear can render one immobile…
Commander Chakotay's voice rang out in the immortal entreaty, "Will you be my wife?"
"I have not known you long before I knew that my life would never be complete without you…"
"Then shall I go on my knees, my love?"
There was a shuffle and a short scuffle and a little bright laugh – sounding so un-womanchild-like, but Annika Hansen alright.
"Oh, Chakotay, you had my reply long before you went on your knees."
"I love you, I love you, I love you…"
It was the voice of Commander Chakotay. Then there was a shuffle again.
"How I love you!"
It was the voice of Annika Hansen
"You are my love, my life, my very existence. I cannot breathe without you."
"Kiss me then…"
"I do not belong here…"
And that, my dears, was the voice of Captain Kathryn Janeway.
It was also the reason the Maquis disliked their Captain and the reason Chakotay never saw her for two years, until the day of Miral's second birthday.
Here's the deal. I know something you don't. Do I tell you on this instant and have you share what they call in literature dramatic irony? That way, we all know something the characters or some of them don't. But be not misled. This literary device is a little more complicated than just what the audience sees and the characters don't. Janeway might make a decision or issue a decree based entirely upon what she has heard and so the unfolding action thereafter follows a path that will ensure an ending either totally comical or heartbreaking or melodramatic or just plain unsatisfactory, but that, unbeknownst to the protagonist but entirely known to us. And dare I say, we wail and gnash our teeth at the coming tragedy. There are tragic overtones mainly in the way Janeway lives her life after making certain choices.
Of course it is tragic if Admiral Janeway becomes the object of ridicule; is driven to walking around her farm with tomatoes and pelting heckling kids with it. Of course it is tragic if Admiral Janeway stands at the grave of her erstwhile first officer promising to keep it well-tended for the next hundred years, talking to a headstone as if it were the commander himself come to her in the flesh, so to speak. Of course it is tragic that she is without a man by her own choosing for the rest of her wrinkled sundried prune-like life and sagging udders. Of course [and something she didn't tell her younger self] she still tries to find her erotic trigger and then coaxes it into a counterfeit of sex and orgasm that is damned tragic for her being well into her sixties.
So what do you say? You want to be in on something this early? Of course, if I allow this little thing to languish to the end where our two agonists are in denouement mode, it would seem an excessive contrivance and bad literary device to tell someone at the end, "but oh, I was only doing this…"
No, that would not do. It would never do.
But first, let me tell you what Captain Janeway did after she walked away from the commander's cabin, never having gone inside like she had originally intended and instead, going to her own quarters where she sat down and thought on what she heard. As I have intimated earlier, I am not that omniscient, being most times an observer. But, as you all know, a way for a character to reveal her motivations, her pain, her joy, her intentions, is prevalent in her actions.
Janeway paced the floor of her bedroom, looked pointedly several times to her bed, then sat down on that bed. Her hands covered her breasts, caressed them I should say, and her eyes closed. I have to tell you here that I observed how a tear rolled down her cheek. After the tears she walked to her bathroom, freshened up and then padded back to her bedroom where a mirror - not the cheval she was to have not two years later - revealed the hands-on-the-hips stance. Her face became strong – the planes more pointed, more set, more resolved.
When they finally stood on Earth for the first time in seven years, Captain Kathryn Janeway set about fighting for her crew, managing to keep all but Chakotay out of prison, who languished there for a year while his Annika Hansen visited him regularly and remained within hailing range.
Janeway incurred the wrath of the Maquis who believed she has now reneged on her loyalty to them, ignoring them, hardly making a conscious effort soliciting their good opinions. Chakotay was lost to her and she had no time for his people. And why should she? Chakotay had come to tell her something and she had misread him completely. Again.
On Miral's second birthday, on the farm Palings owned by Admiral Owen Paris and his wife, they invited Admiral Kathryn Janeway to the party. They hadn't wanted her there, but Owen Paris was adamant that they let sleeping dogs lie, that they resolve to forgive one another and that uh…history be allowed to run its course. So if anyone asked, it was actually Owen Paris who invited Janeway and not his son and daughter-in-law.
Chakotay, freed at last, attended as well.
You can imagine that classic scene.
But first, Commander Chakotay's cabin, on Voyager. Did I tell you that Commander Chakotay can be colossally stupid too?
************************
END PART TWO
PART THREE
"You wanted to see me, Commander," Annika Hansen said as she entered Chakotay's cabin.
"Good. Yes. I need you for something."
"If it has to do with Captain Janeway, then you do not need me for anything."
"No, well, you see, I have to do something – "
"You have already said that, Commander."
"Please, sit down, Annika."
And so Annika Hansen seated herself on the commander's couch, waiting for whatever it was he wanted to do with Captain Janeway. I took a flying leap with Chakotay to his bedroom where he slid open a drawer and took out two PADDs, returning quickly to Annika Hansen.
At this point I should tell you that they had already had three dates and even by my own estimates, pretty innocuous. They drank, Annika got tipsy, telling him he should bed the Captain, and that was the end of that. Her sojourn into the ways of the humans when trying to organise their mating behaviour was about to be dashed. She had certain precepts and Chakotay was not acting according to them.
"What is it, Commander?"
"Here, you take this PADD. Read your lines."
It had to be the joke of the century. Annika Hansen took a cursory glance at the text, looked at Chakotay and asked, "You wish to rehearse a marriage proposal?"
"Just study those lines."
"I have already memorised them."
"Good. Now – "
"Commander, why is it necessary to rehearse when all you have to do is tell – "
"I want it to be the most romantic proposal, so I don't want to put a foot wrong."
"Captain Janeway will take anything, any place, anytime, on whatever foot. She loves you."
"Annika, are you going to do this with me or not?"
Annika Hansen sighed. Chakotay looked…expectant. He held up his PADD.
"Will
you be my wife?"
"I
have not known you long before I knew that my life would never be complete
without you…"
"Then
shall I go on my knees, my love?"
Annika broke into a bright little laugh. She was beginning to enjoy this, see?
"Oh,
Chakotay, you had my reply long before you went on your knees."
"I
love you, I love you, I love you…"
"How I love you!"
Now, you all know that at this point, just outside his quarters, Captain Janeway had muttered her 'I do not belong here' little speech and moved off.
"Commander, even for an ex-Borg, your declaration and proposal seems over the top."
"Annika, humour me. You know I love her, but this – well, it's new for me and Kathryn is pretty preoccupied with the Admiral right now. I want to do it just right – "
"Going on your knees… I think she would appreciate you telling her right to her face."
"I'm not a poet – "
"But you are in love. Whatever the words are, whichever way they will issue from your lips, it's going to be the right words…"
Annika Hansen teaching Commander Chakotay in human mating behaviour. Jeez. The man deserved to be cold-shouldered. Why on earth he needed to rehearse his proposal beats me completely. He may not be a poet but I don't think he has ever been lost for words. Okay, if you discount the lizard scene when Paris crossed the threshold with her and they evolved… But as I told you before, this man can be silly at times, and this time was one of them.
"Annika, when the moment is right, as soon as we touch down, then I'll propose."
"Seven of Nine knowing Chakotay wishes to marry Captain Janeway even before she knows it herself? I am much honoured, Chakotay, that you have used me to do a dummy run."
A dummy run. I liked the sound of that.
The consequences of this little scene proved dire. The captain did what she does best with her life – brooding and lapsing into depression, telling herself that Chakotay deserved to be happy and Annika deserved to be happy and… She didn't speak with him and became very quiet, reserved, ignoring him unless it was to speak about the debriefings. He thought she was just unusually preoccupied because of the pending debriefings and left her alone.
The first day on Earth, just outside Headquarters. Chakotay cornered Kathryn Janeway. He wanted to go on his knees. Her eyes were bloodshot and he failed to understand why.
"Kathryn, there is something I wish to tell you – "
"I know, Commander. And may I wish you well in your marriage…"
"What?"
"You and Seven of Nine. You deserve to be happy, Commander. I shall try my best to keep all of you out of prison – "
"Kathryn, wait, you don't understand. You're my friend and – and – "
"She's waiting for you, Commander," Kathryn of the bloodshot eyes told him as Seven of Nine approached. "Good luck…"
Before Chakotay could say anything more, before he could tell her the truth, before he could go on his knees even, Captain Janeway sped into the building where she cloistered herself with the Admirals who would see to it that only Chakotay landed in prison and the rest of the Maquis were free. Owen Paris was happy as a lark because he got a brand new granddaughter.
"Did you propose to her?" Seven of Nine asked Chakotay.
"She walked away… She walked away…"
"Our rehearsal didn't help you much?"
"I…think…she heard us…"
"Then go to her and tell her the truth…"
But it was all for naught. Kathryn resolved that Chakotay be happy with his Borg, Chakotay went to prison and Seven of Nine who tried once to tell Captain Janeway the truth, got sent away before she could get a word in edgeways.
Or wait, here is that little conversation.
"I wish you and Chakotay every happiness."
"We're not married, Captain."
"You will be."
"Captain, you are mistaken…"
"What, that he proposed to you?"
"Well, yes, he did – "
Annika Hansen wasn't helping. Her words drove the wedge deeper and underscored that lady's suspicions that such a momentous occasion was indeed on the cards. Captain Janeway became reserved, ignored the Maquis who couldn't understand why she changed towards them. Did anyone know of her feelings towards the Maquis first officer? If they were convinced of anything, it was that Janeway treated them abominably after the debriefings. She refused to see Chakotay, refused to see Seven of Nine and basically kept to herself, being integrated into that august body they call the Starfleet Admiralty.
Now that she was an admiral…
"We're scum, now that we are home, that's what," Ayala said.
"We were never really a Voyager crew…"
"She let Chakotay go to jail. She's not even visiting him."
"She hates all of us now…"
*****
In Janeway's bedroom, Indiana. That lady is doing what her future self warned her of. Standing in front of her cheval naked, appraising her body and doing a few other creative things with her hands and fingers.
She had politely turned down Clay Harland, a Bajoran-human hybrid who wanted to marry her. After two nights in bed with him, she was convinced that her fingers could do the walking over her body far more effectively. I only saw the covers move and bodies locked and heard the odd grunts, but no long-drawn-out keens as I have heard Janeway give when she pleasured herself with fancy dildos.
A dildo with Chakotay's name on it. Sheesh. And how she used it! I shall refrain from going into graphic detail here as it was embarrassing to detail just what she did. Suffice to say, after the act, she was right as rain as if Chakotay had never been in her life and good to go for another forty eight hours. She did, however, during her orgasms, cuss Chakotay in four letter words.
Thus:
*&%$$CHAK*&^%$CHAK.*&%$$CHAK*&%$$CHAK*&%$$CHAK&**=$%#YES!
&*(^%%#YES!&^%$##YES!!!
There was no dignity and no decorum in the privacy of her bedroom. I caught her once at it in her office. You know the place: Holy Ground of the Admirals.
*******************
Chakotay, being freed, made his way straight to Annika Hansen where she had lustily ensconced herself in the clutches of Dalby, of all people. Annika wanted to have nothing to do with him.
"Because Admiral Janeway seems to blame me for your lack of passion."
"She blames you?"
"As you say, she heard us and when she cornered me, it didn't help that I blurted it to her."
"What?"
"That you proposed to me."
"I never proposed to you."
"Of course you did, Chakotay. To any human standing ears plastered to your cabin door, that was the way it sounded. And when Admiral Janeway asked straight out, I said 'yes, you proposed' and she didn't wait for me to qualify my statement. That's a misunderstanding for you."
"I will go to her."
"Please, take her off our hands. Take her away. Take her far away…"
But it was to be a year later only, after Chakotay had been diverted by helping in the reconstruction of Dorvan V that he made his way to Earth. He had been invited to Miral's second birthday party. If Janeway wasn't there, he was going to go to Headquarters and drag her all the way to the Paris family home.
He was a man with a mission.
**************
END PART THREE
PART FOUR
The only thing wrong with Chakotay's mission was that Admiral Janeway who fashioned dildos with Chakotay's name on them, was not at Headquarters. Her aide informed him that she was at Palings, the Paris family home.
That suited Chakotay better.
He was a man with a mission as I said. He flew his own shuttle and when he touched down, hardly skipped a beat when he saw the people in the distance. His Maquis friends would be there. That would suit him just fine. They could all witness whatever was going to happen.
Kathryn Janeway was the first person he saw standing on the lawn where a marquee had been raised. It didn't phase him a bit – such as feeling sorry for her – that she stood alone one side, watching the proceedings. She was still in Coventry, he noticed. They weren't going to let her off lightly. This time they ignored her. If she wanted their loyalty again, why, it all depended on him.
She turned when he approached, her eyes widening when she recognised him. She wore a slacks, and over the slacks a slinky three quarter top that figure-hugged her. Her hair burned like it always did and he almost lost his resolve in those eyes that glared like fire.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"I was invited. Why are you here?"
"Owen asked me to come."
"Not Miral's parents?"
"No…" The words came heavily from her. He didn't want to feel sorry. But he did.
"I didn't marry Annika."
"You were going to."
"No, I wasn't. You listened to your damned future self. That woman…"
"My future self – "
"That Admiral was the goddam loneliest individual I ever saw that you listened to, Janeway. She wanted to make sure you're lonely. She told you I married Annika, didn't she?"
"H-how did you know?"
"I didn't. But it was an educated guess."
"I don't need you now, Chakotay."
"Oh, yeah? Do you prefer using alternative means to satisfy yourself? And I don't mean another man about the bedroom. Dildos, fingers, anything…"
Janeway blushed furiously. I was hoping that no one heard that.
"I do nothing of the sort – "
"Not according to the Admiral. She was pretty graphic, you know."
"I refuse to talk about it."
"Okay, Janeway. So I satisfied myself too, imagining it's you. They gave me a Janeway blow-up doll in prison…"
Janeway smiled a tender little smile. She was warming finally to him.
"Janeway, what you heard – "
"I didn't hear anything."
"Yeah, then you must have been a fly on the wall in my quarters when Annika and I rehearsed – "
"R-Rehearsed? You rehearsed a m-marriage proposal?" Janeway stammered.
"So you heard!"
"Then why aren't you m-married?"
"I will be, just as soon as I've done this…."
Wheeeeee!!!!!!
Of course everyone present watched this little scene. Even little Miral who instantly demanded that her Daddy kiss her Mommy just like that.
Chakotay had pulled Janeway none too gently into his arms and bore his lips down on hers in a punishing kiss. She struggled like a fish for two seconds then melted into the heat of the kiss. When he unlocked his lips from hers, he was breathing hard.
"Come."
"W-where?"
"You'll see," he said as he pulled her roughly from that spot so that she stumbled after him.
Chakotay stopped in front of Admiral Paris, that august gentleman of the Admiralty who smiled benignly at Janeway as if he knew something she didn't. It was clear to all who witnessed this little scene that Admiral Paris had invited Admiral Janeway to his granddaughter's birthday party for the sole purpose of hitching her with an Angry Warrior.
"Admiral," Chakotay said, pulling Janeway to stand against him, "I want to take this woman as my lawfully wedded wife."
"And what say you, Admiral Janeway?"
"I have a say?" she asked feebly.
"I take that as a yes."
************
I can only describe certain things I saw from the porch of the farm in Indiana where Chakotay had taken his wife. By the greatest willpower he didn't ravage her in his shuttle. Two reasons: the trip to Indiana from Palings was too short and secondly, the man wanted to do the thing right. Though there are those fanficcers who swear by these quick fixes in odd places like turbolifts, jefferies tubes, ready rooms, hydroponics bays, cargo bays, short trips in shuttles and other narrow confines as well as pool tables, etc. Chakotay was of a mind that waiting to get home with his brand new bride was still the honourable thing to do. Besides, after he had barked at Admiral Paris to leave them alone for two whole weeks, the grounds around the farm would do very nicely. Chakotay was sure to get himself into a starship with his new wife and do all the naughty things with her he was supposed to do on Voyager, and then all those odd places like turbolifts and jefferies tubes would be places of passion.
But not now.
Chakotay wanted a bed. He was going to make love with his wife for the first time and for that, he wanted that first time to be on a bed with satin sheets. He didn't wonder if Janeway had satin sheets and simply assumed that she had. What with faking it with Chakotay-dildos and all, the woman needed a real man but the faking must have produced some satin sheets and black ones at that. He was going for ivory but he was certain he would never notice colours once he was inside his woman.
Follow my four thousand faceted eyes, ladies.
On the porch I detected two shoes – one ladies shoe and a gentleman's shoe. A jacket belonging to Chakotay had caught on the railing of the porch. The front door was open and in the small foyer the other shoes lay about. Further down a passage there was a pair of trousers and a pair of slacks. A stocking – well, there's got to be silk stockings, dammit! – caught against the wall, of all places. Another stocking just inside the bedroom door which Chakotay, barefoot and all, kicked right off its hinges. A delicate lace bra lying beside the bed, a torn panty, a torn pair of boxers…
Two bodies lay entwined in the sheets – the ivory satin ones he imagined after all - the bliss of togetherness on their sleeping faces, lost peacefully in complete abandon.
At which point, ladies and gentlemen, I close the curtain.
***************
END