Speaking into the silence

A coda on "Coda"

by

vanhunks

Rating: G

Disclaimer: Paramount owns the lot.

Summary:  After the crash, after sailing on Lake George, after everything, Kathryn still wonders... A very short mood piece.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm taking a short break from writing "Strangers when we meet", and today I had the urge to write this little story, after watching "Coda" a short while ago.

Speaking into the silence

When Chakotay went quiet, it was never evident in the obvious silences of reluctance to speak, faraway looks in the eyes that indicated his thoughts were somewhere no one could touch them or intrude on them, or stiffness of his stance, a clamping of the mouth.

He was a very private man, Kathryn thought, as she made her way to his quarters. Yet, in a contrary way, his withdrawal was always accompanied by his friendliness, the manner in which he openly made her peace offerings, or suggestions she take a break, or go easy on the coffee, or even challenged her decisions. One had to know the man well to know that he was carrying a burden, and Kathryn knew her first officer as well as she could know her best friend. She knew every nuance, the mood he was in, and if anything, something that troubled him deeply, became a conscious endeavour to deflect any suspicions anyone might have of getting to the heart of the warrior.

He allowed few people to see the soft spots, even fewer to gain entry to the heart of the man. It wasn't that he feared to succumb to any weakness, just that he would not let others see...his pain.

He was her best friend. Yet, Chakotay closed some parts even to her. Maybe they were those parts that she knew desired reciprocation which never came…They had been through too many things together for her not to know when Chakotay was hurting. Oh, he tried so hard this time, too hard, she suspected, to make it obvious to her. To no one else, just to her.

He'll not let her see him again like he was a few days ago. Not that he knew that she knew.

What was the afternoon out on Lake George but that it shielded his own fears? He had been almost effervescent, chivalrous and teasing and smiling, and that was so unlike him. Had it been any other circumstance, one borne out of shared joy, or a successful mission, satisfactory dispatch of all administrative work they ploughed through in her quarters after which they enjoyed a good glass of wine or coffee, she would have said: that was so like Chakotay. This time, the same responses, no one would have suspected they were there to mask what he wanted no one, not even her, to see. For, to expose that part, would be to…

She sighed. She needed to see him. She needed to ask him.

They sailed on the lake, and for once he was the master of his vessel and she, his first mate. What did she know about eighteenth century sailors' knots? She had enjoyed his company, basked in his attentions and relaxed more than had she been alone in the aftermath of the crash. He hadn't wanted her to be alone, and he sensed that as he always sensed so many things about her. She needed the distraction, needed to stop brooding about her life; how tenuous one's grip sometimes was on it. She had had some intense reflection, and it must have shown, to him at least. Her own attempts to come to grips with her accident had been feeble. She had been fooling herself that throwing herself in her work so soon would actually give her a stay, make her forget that she almost died…that she died…that Chakotay…

Chakotay had entered her ready room, ready to ease her out of her pensive state.

The smile was warm, the rose a surprise. She didn't think him the type to present a rose with a flourish, and one that defied the obvious precepts of women liking red roses.

A peace rose. How symbolic.

They talked about everything. Maybe some part of her welcomed it, that they avoided talking about the crash. It could be he didn't want to remind her of the horror of it. Still, that he didn't talk about it was telling; it was a measure of delaying the confrontation of the pain. His pain.

When she reached his quarters, she took a deep breath and overrode his codes.

The doors slid close behind her as she took a few steps inside. The light was at a very low illumination, something Chakotay always favoured. It was not the first time she had been in his quarters. Suddenly now, it felt like it was. She was intruding, she knew, but she was banking on their friendship, that he forgive her that intrusion. He stood at his viewport, hands behind his back. She smiled. He must know she was standing there. He didn't turn to look at the intruder.

"I've come to say thank you."

"I thought you did," he said, still not looking at her, his gaze fixed on the miracle of stars. "Three days ago, on Lake George."

"So, I've come to reaffirm my gratitude."

"That I made good company?"

"Don't trivialise what you've done, Chakotay. It's beneath you."

"Well then," he replied, only then turning to look at her, "there's not much to add, is there? You've recovered, Kathryn."

In the semi dark she could only see a glint in his eyes, the mouth that seemed somehow stiff, unsmiling.

"If I told you I haven't? I'm still having nightmares..."

"I'll be there, Kathryn, when you need me."

She gave a soft sigh. Of course, he'd be there. All she had to do, was voice her desire. Now, she didn't need his protection so much as that she just…needed him. But Chakotay's own needs went unnoticed…so many times…so many times…

"What about you, Chakotay?"

"What about me, Kathryn?"

"You've done everything, Chakotay, except talk about the crash."

"I was not the one who died, Kathryn," he said bluntly. She felt a sharp stab of pain.

"Maybe that is the problem."

"What do you mean, Kathryn?"

He moved forward, closer to her, and this time she could see him more clearly. He looked pale; he had been exemplary on the bridge the past few days, though she could see the ravages sleep deprivation. She knew she had done the right thing, coming here.

"There is a amazing amount of trauma for anyone who had a near death experience. It's impossible to sleep for a while. You tend to lapse into deep reflection, wondering about the tiny threads that keep you alive, the fragility of life which we sometimes take for granted. I know I have - "

"Kathryn, it's - "

"- and then you are left. You watch your best friend die and you scream desperately at her to keep breathing, not to die - "

"Tuvok told you that?"

" - and I see my best friend's tears, and my own spirit touches him. I think I am flesh…real, but he can't hear my reassurances - "

"Kathryn..."

Chakotay's face coloured.

"I see how he holds my body, so close, so desperate. I have never seen him vulnerable. Never. I want to comfort my best friend, and tell him things I should have told him long ago..."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Kathryn," Chakotay said, closing up as suddenly as the blush had started in his face.

"I was reminded how short my life really was, Chakotay, and I was...distressed..."

"I did what I had to. You're my friend..."

"Naturally. Would you tell your friend you love her so much, the thought of her dying terrified you?"

Chakotay looked away and Kathryn raised her hand to touch his cheek. He turned to face her again. A deep sigh escaped him.

"You couldn't know that," he whispered hoarsely, trying to turn away from her. She touched his arm this time, gently.

"I didn't, Chakotay, until I died…" She felt a violent shudder, berated herself. She wanted to be strong doing this, wanted to be brave. Now, the crash, the thought that she could have died and never know of his feelings unsettled her again. Summoning the strength to contain herself, she continued: "I - I didn't know the depths, Chakotay, of what you felt…"

"It wasn't meant for you to hear, Kathryn. Forgive me."

"It was you, Chakotay, your voice that brought me back. I kept hearing you. You don't know how I grasped towards the anchor that was you..."

"You - "  Kathryn could see how he struggled to voice his thoughts. "You - couldn't have known," he said darkly. "You couldn't have..."

"I saw your tears..." she said softly. "I heard your cries, and I felt your arms around me…"

"I was afraid," he admitted finally as he looked long at her, his face no longer pale, but hungry, as if she had just given him back his own life.

"So was I. I wanted to live, I wanted to return to my life, to my body, and feel your arms around me. It was a place, Chakotay - " she paused as a tear rolled down her cheek. "It was a place where I realised I want to be forever…in your arms. I didn't know I could want it so much as I did then, when I saw you holding me…and you - you wept, for me…"

Her eyes had closed at the memory. She felt him draw her to him, felt his finger brush away the tears. She gave a deep sigh as she rested her head against his hard chest, feeling his arms around her like he did in a time, a place where all his masks were stripped from him. Her arms wound tightly around his waist, her fingers barely clutching the package she'd been holding all the time. He felt so warm, so strong as his hand caressed her head, held her close to him.

When all her masks were finally gone, all she knew was that she could show him without falling, without fear that she needed him - not just for the roses, the small talk, the quirky smiles and teasing gestures, but for the fear, the vulnerability, the tenderness, the joy and most of all, the tears. Her hand stroked his back; there was so much that was liberating, the declaration flew from her:

"I love you…"

Her words, soft, gentle as a breeze that calmed, bathed them in warmth, solace. She felt his lips against her hair.

He held her a little away from him; there was a new sheen in his eyes. Did he emit a sob?

"I despaired, Kathryn, that I would lose you. Something in me became ice cold at the thought that I would never see you smile again, never see that spark in your eyes, never hear your voice again, never talk to you again. You're the very breath of my life, and with you gone, I would have died too. I was afraid…"

"I'm here, now, Chakotay. Touch me…I am real… I was given a rare gift, a blessing of life, to live again. I was given the grace to tell you of my feelings. I'm not afraid anymore…"

He nodded, pulled her to him again and kissed her, reverently resting his lips against hers.

When she stood back, she held the gift to him.

"For you, Chakotay, with all my love…"

***  

END

vanhunks

April 2002