PART SEVEN
Chakotay felt much, much better. His mind was clear now, although his body still bore the ravages of exhaustion. He could see as clearly now as he had ever seen, marking his own descent into the hell he had experienced the last two weeks with great shame and guilt and embarrassment.
More than ever, he was aware of how he had treated those closest to him. It was easy, came the unpalatable thought, to justify his behaviour as a condition he couldn't help, or he wasn't himself, something else had controlled his mind. Yes, it was easy.
It didn't make his embarrassment or his guilt less. He felt sick to the stomach of what he had put Carina through. Sick. He owed her a great deal. Since Seven of Nine died, he had tried to be both mother and father to his daughter. Her resemblance to Seven didn't make it easy. He didn't make it easy. Carina was just like he was: hungering for connection. Yes, he owed his daughter a great deal.
But in the last hour since he had awakened, his thoughts were mainly dominated by one person - Kathryn. He sensed she had been with him last night. He knew that her presence had finally calmed the raging demons in him. He knew that losing her six years ago, the memories that plagued him for so long, missing her like his very breath, had been the things his demons brought to the fore again. It was knowing that he had lost her forever that had driven him so much in the last six years.
He sat up and gingerly put his feet down on the floor. Giving a sigh of relief, he found he could stand up straight without feeling dizzy. He had been pumped so full of sedatives that he never wanted to come near a hypospray again. It was a way of keeping his dementia under control, he knew, and a measure to protect Carina and Tomaso and Shauneez. Somewhere in his hazy recollections, he could still hear Tomaso threatening to kill him if he laid a hand on Carina again. Again. How many times had she been in the way of his thrashing body and flailing fists? He recalled that she had cried often during the journey to Earth, something that had enraged him even more. He didn't want to hurt Carina. Never.
Just mentioning Earth had struck him blind with rage. He hadn't wanted to come to Earth, knowing that he'd have to come within Kathryn's orbit again, that Kathryn was happily married and lost to him. He had heard too that Kathryn had a child. The thought of Kathryn bearing another man's child had filled him with sick, profound jealousy and longing. It threw him into a spin for months after hearing the news. But he remembered back in those first years they had shared a summer together in Venice, how much Kathryn had wished that Carina was hers. She never said it openly to him, but a few times in the night, in her restless slumber she had murmured that wish. And so he finally understood how much damage had been done to Kathryn as well when he made Annika Hansen pregnant.
What Seven of Nine had done was, he supposed, an act of desperation, an act of betrayal and deceit. Yes, he had had a role to play too, being seduced while he was inebriated. For that he paid the price, fifteen long years. But he was not sorry that he had Carina. She had become the light in his life, although he knew that he had never really done justice by her either. The spitting image of her mother and being unreasonably angry with Seven all those years had blighted his relationship with his daughter.
Something he wanted to correct.
He moved to the window, enjoying being alert for the first time. The headaches were gone and the fire in his body, the flames of hell that burned unceasingly through him were gone. A freight run to one of the more distant and isolated worlds where he'd picked up a flu virus was what brought on his condition. He remembered feeling sick, vomiting often, remembered the dizzy spells, convincing himself that it would blow over because he had a very strong constitution. He remembered the fever, the constant sweating, the damp and dank sheets; he remembered letting himself go, not caring, falling into degradation. Then he remembered the humiliation of his daughter washing him.
The view looked good this morning. The sun was out. He remembered the doctor's diagnosis and prognosis late last night, after he had finished his treatment.
"Captain, I can assure you now that it was not your recessive 'mad' gene that brought on your dementia."
"What?"
"No. That has always been under control since I treated you that time on Voyager. You were never in danger of succumbing to it again. While the people of Diatorath display similar symptons to our own Earth flu, that strain of their virus has an adverse effect on humans. High fever, burning sensation in the body, aching muscles, and most of all, dementia. I've treated a few cases in humans of Diatorath flu. Don't blame your grandfather again - "
"Doctor, are you telling me…?"
"That condition I cured on Voyager. You may have thought otherwise, but I can assure you, you won't contract or succumb to it again. Or this alien 'flu…"
He had time only to mouth the word 'thanks' before drifting naturally with great relief into sleep. Now he was awake and he felt good, although the feeling of well-being was tempered with the old envy that Kathryn was lost to him.
How could he explain to anyone how precious the short week every summer had been to him? After a few years of marriage to Annika, he had refused to share a bed with her. His body hungered constantly for Kathryn and sometimes, God help him, he used Annika, Annika who was always pathetically happy to have him make love to her.
Summer in Venice. That first year it was unplanned. They had met there accidentally. Had chosen the same destination to spend a few days' vacation. Perhaps, he had concluded in the years following that first meeting, it had been destiny that brought them there, to Venice, a coincidence greater than providence, greater than anything they would ever understand.
He had wanted to escape from the drudgery that his marriage had become, had wanted to be alone somewhere, drifting like flotsam on a sea of nothingness. He was content being carried on a current to nowhere. That current led him to Venice.
He had seen Kathryn standing on the Bridge of Sighs. She looked lonely, devastated, melancholy. Her sadness burned roads of pain right through his heart. Then she had looked up and seen him. She smiled - a tender, sad smile. When he joined her there, they had held hands. The attraction was instant. Drawn to one another, they had found it impossible to prevent what was to happen next. They had dinner in a small, intimate restaurant. Later they had walked the narrow alleys, holding hands, delaying the inevitable moment of joining and reclaiming what was always theirs. When he reached his hotel, she had not demurred when he simply kept holding her hand and led her to his room. It felt hypnotic, mysterious, beautiful. And for seven days they were happy together. They made a decision that they'd meet like that every year.
"I ask only this, Kathryn. Please…"
"Yes…"
Then had come their seventh year together. Kathryn left in the middle of the night while he was still sleeping; she left him with the rosewood box and the journal. He had gone completely mad for a while, a madness that was tempered by the reality of their situation, and the acknowledgement that Kathryn had been right. It offered him no relief, however, that she had done what she needed to do: put distance between them forever because it was destroying her. He had to swallow the fact that he had asked too much of her. Too much. After that, he punished Annika. He'd taken her at will and subjected her to depravity, never engaging in conversation with her. Annika went on with her work and he went on with his. They lived apart in more ways than just living in the same house and separate rooms. Punishing her was his punishment for throwing away what he had with Kathryn after they had had their first major argument on Voyager, weeks before they were home in the Alpha Quadrant. He had stormed off and sulked like a child, drunk himself senseless, and being so unconditioned to unbridled drinking, had easily been seduced by Annika who, it seemed, had wanted him for a long time.
He didn't remember much of that night, but he did remember that she offered him solace.
Some solace. Three weeks later she told him she was pregnant. He went to Kathryn first. Kathryn who broke off their engagement immediately and told him to honour his pending parenthood by marrying Seven.
Chakotay shook his head, trying to rid himself of those memories. He wanted to concentrate on the new dimension to his life, to the one thing that remained burned in his awareness as he wept against Kathryn's bosom yesterday. It had been her voice that pulled him to the surface, that brought him back from the brink of madness, that soothed his fevered brow, that comforted him.
And her words, "…my love…"
He hadn’t imagined those words and for the past hour they had haunted him. Why would she use such an endearment if she didn't mean it? Did she mean it? Where was Greaves? Why? Could Kathryn in one moment give him hope only to dash that hope in the next? During their steamy nights in Venice she had often called him "my love…" more times than he could remember; he had used all kinds of endearments for her. He had felt her skin yesterday - velvet and soft yet firm, skin that unleashed every memory of their times together. He heard her voice, mellow, familiar…oh so familiar!
He felt a prick behind his eyelids. He was never, as long as he lived, going to stop loving Kathryn Janeway. He had killed himself emotionally on Dorvan, then later on Polarya, trying to forget Kathryn, trying to keep himself from calling out her name in his desperation. Seven had sensed this and turned into herself, her own loneliness hers only, never his. They had had an agreement but only if Seven herself asked for a separation, would he leave. She never did and so he never went. In any case, her veiled threats that he wouldn't see Carina kept him trapped. Mainly he cared about Carina, remained in a loveless union because leaving it meant leaving Carina. He couldn't leave his little girl, for she was all he had. More times than he could remember, he too wished that Carina had been Kathryn's. There was nothing worthy from his union with Seven of Nine, except a child who resembled her mother and who unwittingly was punished because of it.
Carina reminded him that he was unhappy.
A sound outside alerted him to someone approaching. His heart hammered furiously. The door opened. It was Kathryn, resplendently dressed in admiral's uniform.
"Kathryn…"
Beloved.
Her face was as he remembered it always - smiling, kind, tender. Her eyes never left his, never broke contact with him. She walked slowly towards him and didn't stop until she stood in his embrace. A movement, quiet and instinctive and so completely natural that there was no thinking about it, no prior planning. She felt warm, here, her golden hair like silk beneath his fingers. He cupped her head against his chest. Her arms enfolded him and he wanted her arms to keep holding him. He pressed his lips into her hair, inhaled the smell of fresh apples mixed with brandy. Or that was what he imagined. What he knew was that he was drowning, this time in a sea where Kathryn was his anchor with a destination plotted, a sense of coming home.
For long, long minutes they didn't speak, just breathed in the hallowed nearness of one another, treasured a new connection. For suddenly he felt new, something about Kathryn was different, free. But first, the urge to explain his own need of her…that which had been paramount in all his desires, in all his dreams, in all his thoughts for fifteen long years.
"I was like that deer in the psalm…" he murmured softly, finally, remembering once reading the psalm and admiring the sheer poetry of it. "My thirst was great and my hunger unceasing…"
Lifting her head, but reluctant to move out of his embrace, she looked deeply into his eyes. He felt the prick of tears again. She felt so good, so home that his hope sprang like a wild brook in his chest.
"So was mine, my love…" she whispered softly.
"My love? You called me that yesterday. It was what kept me…hoping. Your…" He didn't want to bring up her husband, didn't want to mention the name, yet he had to know what was happening, why Kathryn felt so free standing like she did in his arms. "Your husband…?"
She gave a deep sigh, the shadows returning to her eyes. A sad smiled played around her mouth. A sad, sad smile.
"He died, Chakotay," she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. "A month ago, in an accident that claimed the life of Owen Paris as well…"
"Owen Paris is dead?" he asked, dazed, the knowledge that her husband was dead too evoking in him a myriad of conflicting emotions.
"Yes. Owen and Horatio. Owen died instantly, Horatio died a day later…"
"I am sorry to hear it, Kathryn. I would never have wished for something like this to befall you. I kept away…you must know…"
"Yes, Chakotay. I knew you would remain true to your promise, hold on to your honour. But now I am alone again - "
"Alone?"
"I've put off contacting you, to find myself again, I suppose. Your arrival here has hastened my decision. Yes, I am free again, though not so free as you might think," Kathryn said, and he thought he saw a slight fear in her eyes. Of what was she afraid? he wondered.
"Kathryn?"
"I have a daughter, Chakotay. Her name is Greer. She has taken the death of her father quite hard."
He closed his eyes, picturing Kathryn with a little girl, feeling the old rancour rising in him again.
"A little girl…"
"Yes. I'd like to introduce you to her. But first, there's someone wanting to see you. I've asked her to wait outside."
"Kathryn, before she comes in, tell me now: is there hope for me?"
She gave him a beauteous smile.
"As much hope as you want."
Only then did he lower his head to kiss her and when their lips touched, he felt the old chemistry again. It sent little shivers down his spine. A long, lingering, tender kiss he was reluctant to break, but had to. Her eyes were watery, a sheen through the tears.
"I'll wait for you, Kathryn. There's much to talk about, including how my daughter came to read your journal."
******
When Kathryn stepped out of the hospital room, she gave Carina a quick hug. Carina looked rested; she had slept like a log. Kathryn had taken both Carina and Tomaso to her own home, letting Tomaso sleep in the spare room and Carina bunk down in Greer's room. Carina had exclaimed with wonder at all the soft toys, the typical things little girls hoarded in their rooms, a little shelf with books - from Peter Rabbit to stories of Flotter and Treevis.
It had been good talking to the teens, good to get to know Carina.
"Is this Greer?" Carina had asked as she pointed to a picture on the wall.
"Yes, that's Greer." Kathryn's heart had raced like mad as she gauged Carina's reaction.
"But she looks like - "
"Yes, Carina," she added softly, "yes, she looks like her father."
And with that, she had begged with her eyes that Carina not question her anymore. They had washed, had dinner with her and later had gone to sleep, since both were exhausted, especially Tomaso.
Now, Carina was ready to see her father.
"Go to him, sweetheart."
Carina's eyes registered surprise at the endearment. She smiled a little, still too hesitant meeting her father.
"When will Papa see Greer, Admiral?" she asked.
"As soon as we are all ready to leave for Indiana…"
"I hope he likes her."
"I pray so too. Go now. He's waiting."
**************
Carina stood just inside the door, too afraid to put another foot forward. The last time she had seen her father, he had been spitting like ten cobras. He had given her a hard time and even in his delirious state, he lashed out at her. She knew he couldn't stand looking at her for long because of her mother.
But she was not her mother, if only Chakotay could see past that. It was difficult for him, she had to concede. Her meeting in the garden with Admiral Janeway had been astounding. She had liked the older woman instantly and felt very, very drawn to her. Admiral Janeway had taken a lonely young girl to her bosom in a way her own mother never had. She had always missed that, feeling connected to her mother. With Admiral Janeway it was so normal, so spontaneous. She could cry as much as she wanted to and feel good and cleansed afterwards.
She prayed that her journey to Earth had not been in vain and that her father would be happy again. Chakotay stood by the window looking her way. He looked stern, unsmiling.
Her heart sank.
Was she wrong? Did she make a mistake after all?
She stood, wanting to run out the room again.
Then he put out his hand.
"Come here, child."
"Papa!"
She ran into his arms and cried her heart out. He held her very close, whispered words of reassurance to her, made her feel like a little girl again who sat on his lap while he told her stories and ancient legends.
When at last he held her apart, she saw that he was serious.
"Papa…?"
"Forgive me, Carina. Forgive me for everything. For deserting you, for hurting you whenever I looked at you and thought I saw someone else. Forgive me…"
"Papa…all is forgiven. I love you, Papa. I wouldn't have brought you all the way to Earth if I didn't. I would have left you right there in your room on Polarya to die in shame and loneliness!"
She hadn't meant for her words to come out like they did, but then she stood and gaped at her father in total amazement and consternation.
He was laughing. She had never heard him laugh.
"Papa?"
When he finally stopped, he pulled her into his arms again and hugged her fiercely.
"Thank you, honey. I love you. I…am sorry for all the hurt I caused you over the years. It's different now. I'm glad you braved my anger to bring me here. All is well, okay?"
"And Admiral Janeway? The lady of the journal? Your own true and everlasting love?"
"Carina, I don't regret that you read the journal. I feel a little relief that I'm not alone anymore. Yes, sweetheart. Kathryn Janeway is my own true love, my first and only - "
"And you promise to tell me later how it all went wrong."
"Yes, honey."
"And Papa?"
"What is it?"
"I remember three years ago, when I showed you my science project specs, you said I reminded you of her. I asked whether you meant Mama? You never answered me, Papa. Never. Will you answer me now?"
She saw her father's eyes go warm with remembrance. She thought that Admiral Janeway-Greaves should tell him to cut his hair and shave. She was sure her father would listen. She thought that her life was about to become very exciting.
"I meant Kathryn, honey. You reminded me so much of her then. You were only eleven and already you showed an intuitive feel for science; your curiosity was natural born, I guess. Your mother was great too, but never as great as Admiral Janeway and never as intuitive."
"I am like Admiral Janeway?" she asked, her heart wanting to burst with pride.
"In more ways than both of us realise…"
"Oh, Papa, I am so happy. Can we live here on Earth forever?"
"That, Carina, only Kathryn can answer for us."
Carina heard the door open, heard the light footsteps of Kathryn Janeway. Her husband had died a month ago. She had told them last night and she had felt alternately sad for Admiral Janeway and happy for her father. The way the Admiral had walked into the ward yesterday and calmed her father with just her voice… Carina knew now that Kathryn Janeway was the only woman for Chakotay.
If they could convince her.
*************
END PART SEVEN