It was 1800 hours.
Captain Kathryn Janeway glared balefully at the doors to her quarters, wondering where the hell her best friend and once-again First Officer was.
They hadn't exactly lived and died by the clock on New Earth. They rose with the sun and slept at moonsrise. On Voyager, however, daily life was governed by military time on the 24-hour daily cycle of Earth.
As such, 1800 hours meant 1800 hours.
Not 1804.
Or 1807.
Or 1814.
At 1817 Janeway was fed up. "Computer, location of Commander Chakotay?"
"Commander Chakotay is in his quarters."
Kathryn bit back an exasperated curse. Within hours of returning to Voyager, the headaches and muscle tension she suffered through as side-effects of the burden of command had returned with a vengeance. Miniature anti-matter explosions erupted inside her head every second. Her neck, shoulders, and upper back felt as though she was being subjected to torture upon the Rack. And to top it all off, she was feeling mildly claustrophobic. Months of spending virtually all of her waking hours traipsing through the woods, walking along the river, and working in her garden all conspired to fool the starship mindset her brain had been born to live with.
She hurt, she ached, and her best friend was lounging in his quarters without a care in the world.
If she had to suffer, she mused, so could he.
Anger transformed into concern as Chakotay ignored the captain's repeated attempts to gain his attention at his door. "Computer, override the lock on Chakotay... on Commander Chakotay's quarters. Authorization Janeway Alpha 47."
The doors parted and she cautiously stepped inside. The living room was dark and empty, save for a small reading lamp glowing softly on the desk and a half-empty mug of abandoned tea. Kathryn's ears, however, discerned the sound she'd come to depend upon in the darkest and loneliest times of the night: Chakotay's gentle, even, relaxed breathing as he slept.
She peeked cautiously into his bedroom and came up short at the sight. Anger and impatience were forgotten as she studied his sprawled form. He lay on his back, one arm thrown above his head and the other across his chest. He was still in full uniform, complete with communicator and boots. The expression on his face, though, was anything but peaceful. He appeared to sleep the sleep of the truly, bitterly exhausted. Kathryn knew that the last three nights on New Earth had not been soothing for her, as she had heard only the sounds of Chakotay tossing and turning in his alcove bedroom as sleep eluded him.
Before New Earth, no lines, no boundaries, no parameters, had existed between the two of them, as they had not been aware that such devices were necessary. Captain Janeway was devoted to her ship. Kathryn was devoted to Mark Johnson. Chakotay was slowly, quietly falling in love with Captain Kathryn Janeway, both the starship commander and the woman.
On New Earth, they had "defined parameters" when circumstances forced their feelings into the warm night air. Weeks, months, of living together, working together, and sharing the small space they had had not been conducive to hiding feelings.
Kathryn had slowly become aware of Chakotay's feelings for her the night they first met the monkey, when she had been going on about primates and bug bites and Chakotay had been far more interested in his damp, towel-clad, smelling-like-sin former captain dripping on him. At first she'd thought it was a classic "last man and woman on the planet" case. Of course he'd find her attractive - she was the only woman there! But then she'd realized that it went deeper, much deeper than that.
The man had built her a bathtub.
A bathtub, for God's sake! Just because she'd made one off-hand comment about liking baths. And here he comes, a week after their exile began, grinning from ear-to-ear as he led her, blindfolded, outside their shelter and gleefully pulled a sheet off his beautiful creation.
He'd still called her "Captain" more often than "Kathryn" at that point, but he'd built her a bathtub.
And a headboard for her bed.
And he cooked all three meals a day.
And offered her nothing but a smile and a mug of coffee when she slithered out of bed in the morning, cheerfully accepting the fact that his roommate was not a member of the human species until she'd had her caffeine fortification.
And then there'd been that storm. The plasma storm, where she'd spent the better part of three hours cradled in his strong, warm arms under a table while her life shattered around her. Then the clean-up of the resulting storm debris, and the ultimate betrayal of her body as her muscles had seized up to the point where she'd been unable to keep her pain to herself.
His hands - long, gentle fingers - caressing her hair, reverently moving it aside. Soothing her work-abused muscles with the first touch. His soft voice as he spoke of his mother.
Then flames that threatened to fan out of control as those same hands stopped. Held her. Immobilized her as awareness dawned.
Fear sent her fleeing from him. Need for control pushed her back out to confront him.
The "Angry Warrior" story had been her undoing.
She'd been so careful. She'd made a concerted effort, after the "towel incident," as she privately thought of it as, to keep their relationship flowing on a smooth, straight course. They were friends. Best friends now. Roommates. Dependent on each other for basic human contact.
Then Chakotay broke the rules she'd never laid out by falling in love with her and telling her by wrapping it up in a story that slammed into her soul with more force than a simple "I love you."
And, damn it all to hell, she was falling in love with him.
Falling. No, that wasn't right.
Plunging. Plummeting. Descending into emotional depths she'd never fathomed and had no way of escaping.
Damn the man, anyway.
They'd sat there that entire night, hands clasped like a life line. Then they'd wordlessly retired to their separate, lonely bunks as the night sky began to ever-so-slowly brighten.
A week later, they were lovers.
She still didn't know how she'd allowed it to happen. Why she'd allowed it to happen.
It had been raining, she remembered. The sound of the fat drops hitting the roof had woken them up after dawn, and the rain had continued to fall, unabated, all day long. By evening, they were both getting testy, cooped up inside as they were, bumping into each other every other minute and beginning to communicate by snarls alone.
For some reason, they'd bumped into each other - again - and froze. And then they'd begun to laugh. And then, for whatever ridiculous reason, she was laughing and crying and hiccuping in a most ungraceful manner. And she'd sought Chakotay's warmth and steadiness by allowing herself to be engulfed in his welcoming embrace.
The rain had continued to pound above them as their own hearts took up a similar beat. They'd eased into the first kiss as naturally as though they'd done so all their lives.
They made love for the first time in the shadows of the encroaching dusk. But there'd still been enough light to see each other's eyes, to see the love that had blossomed and matured in the eternity and a day they'd lived on New Earth.
Afterwards, he'd kissed the fresh tears she'd shed when their fulfillment had tossed her over the physical and emotional edge. And he'd been surprised when she'd reached up and brushed away the wetness from his own eyes, tears he hadn't known he'd shed himself.
Eternity somehow was no longer enough, but they treasured what they had.
Tuvok's staticky voice over their forgotten comm badges brought the abrupt realization that even eternity could be finite. Kathryn and Chakotay had packed their belongings, but not even the return to their uniforms could force their feelings away as easily. Before they'd beamed up to Voyager, they'd quietly, firmly agreed that what had been on New Earth could never be on Voyager. They would command their ship together. They would be best friends, confidantes. But they would never cross the new lines their positions and emotions had forced them to draw.
Kathryn stood next to Chakotay's bed, reports and lateness and Voyager herself forgotten. She had not known a heart could be so full and ache so badly at the same time, as hers now did. She kept repeating to herself like a mantra that a relationship with Chakotay while they commanded the ship wouldn't work, would cause problems, and was inappropriate.
But standing there, watching him sleep, remembering the peace she'd felt for the first time in her life lying within his arms, she kept reminding herself of the parameters they'd defined even as she reached for him.
Chakotay awoke to a tugging sensation and groggily glanced up to find Kathryn Janeway at the foot of his bed, pulling his boots off. "Kathryn?" he rumbled. "What are you doing?"
She said nothing, merely removed her comm badge and his and set them on the nightstand. She then removed her rank pips, one by one, and placed them next to the communicators. Then she reached down and removed his rank bar, setting it next to her pips.
The next thing either of them knew, Kathryn was stretched cat-like atop him, her lips hot and firm as they descended upon his.
Chakotay's common sense was rapidly departing, but he clung to whatever shreds remained. "Kathryn," he gasped, cradling her face in his broad hands. "We can't... We agreed this wouldn't work..."
She kissed the palm of his hand, then smiled for the first time in that entire miserable day. "As I recall, I agreed. You just nodded your head and stared at me with those damnable eyes of yours and told me more with one look than anything you might have said. Two people this much in love can't stay apart, and they're foolish to try."
Those eyes closed now. "Kathryn," he whispered raggedly. "Don't... Don't say it if you don't mean it. Don't tell me we can make this work now and then change your mind an hour, a week, a year down the road. Don't let me love you now and tell me I can't later. It would kill me."
His eyes opened again, and met hers. Her blue depths were steady and unwavering, even as the tears began to silently fall. "We'll make this work. Somehow. It won't be easy, but I promise to try." She managed a shaky smile. "Damn it, you scare the hell out of me. Your feelings, your love... They go beyond anything I've ever known. And mine for you... I'm engulfed, surrounded... It terrifies me. But what we have only comes around once in a lifetime, if ever. I'll be damned if I'll give it up. I love you, Chakotay."
He held her tight. "I love you, Kathryn. We'll make it work. I promise."
Later, much later that night, Kathryn's voice came, quiet and lazily slow. "The crew might not approve, you know," she drawled. "Captain and First Officer in a relationship. Conflict of interest and all that."
Chakotay chuckled and brushed a kiss over her bare shoulder. "Kathryn..." He sighed. "I caught wind of the latest bets in the pool. Three-quarters of the crew bet that we'd end up being lovers on the planet. How they were going to confirm or deny this, I have no idea... Now that we're back, odds are 50/50 that we'll end up moving in together."
Kathryn yawned and smiled, sliding one arm around Chakotay's waist. "What was the other option?"
He smoothed her hair back. "That we'll try to carry on a secret affair."
She placed a kiss on the underside of his jaw, then snuggled sleepily against him. "So I'm worrying for nothing?"
"Pretty much."
They were quiet for a time. Just before they were about to fall asleep, Chakotay's voice rumbled one last time in the darkness. "Almost forgot... There were a few bets that you're pregnant... Or if you're not, you will be soon..."
He expected a cry of alarm or astonishment. At the very least, a jolt of surprise. Instead, she merely stretched languidly and yawned. "The crew needs something to do with all this free time they seem to have in overabundance. Schedule a series of battle drills for each shift."
He began to laugh. "Yes, ma'am."
Another yawn. "And Chakotay?"
"Hmmm?"
"Place a bet in the pregnancy pool. Maybe we could cash in in a few years."
Kathryn Janeway fell asleep tangled in Chakotay's arms. He merely laid there, staring at her in complete shock.
He fell asleep with the woman he loved in his embrace and a smile on his lips.