Author's Notes: Ragpants speaking. I started this story shortly
after In
the Flesh aired, but never finished it. It could have been that I was
becoming disenchanted with tptb's portrayal of Janeway. It could have
been that I was suffering one of my many crises of confidence in my
writing ability. Or it couldhave been that my life simply got busy
and
my time got subsumed by other projects. I don't honestly remember
now. After the show ended this spring, in an effort to inspire some
new
stories for my JetC list, I suggested that the writers in the group
post our
UFOs (UnFinished Objects) in the hopes that some other author would
find inspiration in them. I posted a story fragment there and
DHRS
grabbed it and ran. She revitalized the story with some terrific new
dialogue and gave it the smut ending I'd always envisioned for
it, but
could never write. Thank you Horsie!! I hope all you readers
will
thank her too. Her e-mail link is listed below.
And Horsie's inspiration inspired me. I did eventually finish my own
story, though it turned out much differently than this one did. My
version of this story is called, Quantum
Possibilities.
Feedback is food for the writer's soul. E-mail me at: ragpants
.
E-mail
DRHS at: Horsie
Make Out Point
by DRHS and ragpants, © July 2001
The Quantum cafe...a ridiculous name, thought Janeway as she took a
small table in the 8472 version of the real thing in San Francisco.
She
twirled Boothby's rose, which he had given her only a short time before
between her fingers, then lifted it to once again catch the sweet,
musky
scent. Roses. She loved roses. Always had, and now
it sent a pang of
homesickness through her as she held it.
She had always wondered why the actual Boothby, the one back at the
Academy, not the astonishingly accurate mock-up here at the 8472
Starfleet simulation, had seen fit to frequently gift her with cut
roses
for her room. She had been, after all, just another cadet
at the time,
even if her father had been something of a hotshot Admiral.
She was
sure that Boothby wasn't trying to curry favor. He simply
wasn't the
type to stoop to such inferior means. Besides, her father
had
paid little attention to her during her tenure at the Academy.
She was
sure she couldn't have influenced him even if she'd tried - which she
hadn't - though a good many of her classmates would not have believed
that.
She heard footsteps behind her and smiled at her first officer as he
sat
down across from her at the table. The breeze that followed on
his
brisk wake carried with it a subtle, delicious masculine scent which
for
a moment, competed with the rose in its ability to distract her.
"Said your good-byes to Archer?" she asked.
Chakotay eased back into the chair. "All done. She's looking
forward
to going home."
"So are we all," replied Janeway, a touch wistfully.
Noticing the rose lying on the table, Chakotay nodded toward it. "A
secret admirer?"
Janeway smiled. "Oh, this...Boothby gave it to me. A real
genetically
recreated rose" She held it out so that he could enjoy the fresh
fragrance. "It might be artificially created, but it smells just
like a real one."
Chakotay wrapped his fingers around Janeway's hand and lifted the
flower closer. "Mmmm. Smells real to me."
Janeway grinned at his bold flirtatiousness and laid the rose gently
aside.
"Can I buy you a drink, Commander?"
"Only if you're having one...."
At that moment. the waiter placed a long-stemmed glass in which a
pale, cloudy blue and faintly iridescent liquor bubbled in front of
Janeway.
"Name your pleasure.." she encouraged him, taking a sip.
He flashed a dimpled grin at her before turning to order from the
waiter.
Janeway glanced around the bar. "So, is it as you remember?"
Chakotay looked around the club. "Close enough. Different
chairs at
the bar, I think. I remember them being black, not gray.
How does it
look to you?"
"Just like home." Janeway watched a couple of uniformed officers
get
up and leave. "In fact, a bit too much like home. It brings
back
memories."
"Good ones?"
"Some," she admitted. "You?"
"Some," he echoed. "Though I have to admit that I never thought
I'd be
sitting in the Officer's Club at the Academy again. I resigned
my
commission, you know."
"I know. But I'll make you a promise. When we get home -
when,
mind you - I'll buy you a drink in the Quantum Cafe even if I have
to
bring an armed
escort with me."
His laughter was genuine. "I'll hold you to that promise, Kathryn."
"I'm sure you will," she smiled, and took another sip, regarding him
fondly. They had been through so much together. She idly
wondered
what he had been like before their shared adventure, even before the
days
when it would have been her duty to arrest him. She held the
glass with t
wo slender fingers under the bowl and ventured to ask, "Chakotay?"
His drink arrived and he tasted it quickly before answering. "Yes?"
"Tell me about those days, your Academy days"
"My records are in the database, Kathryn."
"Cold, hard facts. Sponsor, courses, grades, professor's names.
They
don't tell me anything about you yourself - the kind of person you
were."
"I was young."
"Weren't we all."
He grinned at the tone of her voice. "I rebelled against authority
at
every turn. I even left the Academy at one point."
"But you returned, graduated, then began a distinguished career."
He shrugged. "When we get back to the Officers Club you're liable
to
hear some tales about just how 'distinguished' it started out to be.'
'
"Don't worry. I have a bit of a rep, myself."
"What could you possibly have done?"
"I used to sneak smokes on the roof of the dormitory."
"You smoked? How did you get away with it? There's a no-smoking
rule at the Academy!'
"It was easy; I was on the tenth floor and the door to the roof was
next
to mine. It was my crutch until I discovered coffee. Well,
nearly every
night, I'd peek over the edge and see one of the male cadets taking
a run
through the campus after curfew. He never ran on the pavement;
he kept
to the grass and even ploughed through Boothby's flower beds.
A time or
two, Security nearly caught him but somehow he always eluded them.
I
was up there cheering for him all the way. It satisfied the rebel
in me, I
guess," she grinned. "I never found out who he was."
She took another sip of her drink and glanced up. He was grinning
even wider.
"What?"
"That was me, Kathryn."
She set her drink down. "No."
"Sure was. I ran nearly every night to ease the stress, and I
ran through
the grass to soften the sound."
She shook her head in disbelief.
"I always wondered why that cloud was perpetually hanging over Pike
Hall," he said with a straight face.
It was her turn to laugh.
"Doesn't seem to have done you any harm," he ventured. "You're
the
one I kept hearing about who consistently stumped her Quantum
Theory professors...."
"I owe it all to cigarettes."
"...and took top honors in mathematics.''
"That was me."
"...and turned down a date with Will Ryker."
"Now, where did you hear that?!"
"I was seated at the next table. Just think, Kathryn, you could
have
been on board the Enterprise as family instead of in command of your
own starship."
"It's debatable as to which would have been the better outcome," she
said frankly.
"I think this scenario would win, hands down. Odd, isn't it,"
he mused,
"that we've crossed paths before, yet never met. Ever wonder
how
things might have turned out if, say, ten years ago I bought you a
drink here?"
"Things would have been even more complicated than they are now."
"More complicated? I don't see how..." Chakotay began.
"We might have been ex-lovers now."
Chakotay's usually expressive face became unreadable.
What a conversation killer, Kathryn, she thought. She wondered
what
had possessed her to even say such a thing.
There was a long moment of awkward silence then mercifully, the
house lights came up. Seizing the opportunity to change the subject,
Kathryn asked, "Is it me or are they closing earlier than I remember?"
"Earlier," answered Chakotay, chuckling slightly and graciously
allowing her extricate her foot from her mouth. "However, there's
always the Vulcan nightclub around the corner. It's Ponfarr Night."
She burst out laughing. "Ponfarr Night? Does Tuvok know?"
"It's in my report. If he read it, he knows."
"In that case, I'll pass. There's a full moon tonight and there
are places
I want to take a look at once more before I leave." The glasses
stood
on the table, empty. She offered her hand and he took it.
"Care to walk
with me?"
"Can't think of anything I'd rather do at the moment, Kathryn.
That
includes Ponfarr Night."
Feeling carefree and lighthearted, they stepped out into the well-lit
street and strolled without purpose. Eventually, Chakotay maneuvered
them away from the lights and noise of the quadrangle toward the quiet
of the landscaping and the Bay, for he was looking for something.
"Ah, here it is. I wondered how accurate their recreation was.''
He pushed his way through a barely discernible gap in a tall, thick
hedgerow, pulling Kathryn behind him. On the other side of the
bushes was a grassy promontory overlooking the Bay. The view
of the surrounding waters and the Golden Gate Bridge spanning
them was unrestricted on three sides, and protected on the fourth
behind them by the massive hedgerow.
"I always heard the view from here was breathtaking," said Kathryn.
"Don't tell me you've never been here before?"
"Well, not at night anyway. If I wasn't grade-grinding, I was...''
"Up on the roof, smoking," he laughed, and she backhanded his
shoulder.
"What about you? Ever come up here while you were cadet?"
"Sverda brought me up here a couple of times to talk."
"Sverda? Oh, yes, the Russian girl who inducted you into the Maquis."
A long pause ensued before Janeway, with perfect timing, asked,
"Talk?"
"Yes, we talked."
"I don't believe that."
"What?"
"That she managed to resist the charms of a Ladykiller."
"What?!"
"That's how Tuvok described you in his report. Said you turned
on the
charm and chatted up Archer in the bar. Pretty effectively too."
"Doesn't sound much like Tuvok."
"He's been known to throw a few surprises my way."
"If that's how he described me, how come it hasn't worked on you all
these years?" he teased.
"Who says it hasn't?" she said cryptically, not looking at him but
instead taking in the view. "You've managed to get Kathryn Janeway
to
come with you to Makeout Point" Her voice was playful and seductive
and he looked at her in amazement.
They stood, silently regarding each other for the longest time, then
he
laid his hands on her shoulders. She made no protest as he pulled
her
closer, after seeking and finding permission in her eyes.
Something in the combination of the wine flowing through their veins,
releasing inhibitions; the breathtaking panorama spread below them;
the soft night breezes and rustling grasses; and the knowledge that
they
were completely hidden from view yet could see the world below urged
them on. Their breathing escalated as their bodies moved closer,
and his
hands moved from her shoulders down her arms and encircled her.
The
small hands he admired so much rested lightly on his chest. He
bent,
she tiptoed, and their lips drew closer, tentatively at first, touching
lightly,
then lingered for longer and longer spaces of unmarked time.
They each
failed to question the wisdom of their actions as the terrible needs
of one,
the repressed longings of the other, automatically took over.
Finally, for
a short respite, they stood back from each other, minds completely
in sync,
eyes locked. He slid his jacket zipper, shrugged his shoulders
and shed the
garment down to the wrists. He caught it and spread it on the
soft grasses.
She laid hers beside it, then approached him and slid her hands under
the formfitting tunic, spreading the neck to avoid scratching him with
the Maquis insignia. She lifted it over his head. While
her arms were
up he grasped the bottom of hers and smoothly lifted both it and her
staid
Starfleet-issue bra over her head. He released the catches in
her hair and
it tumbled down, concealing that which he had purposely revealed, and
he
brushed the long tresses aside. Slowly kissing her as his hands tenderly
explored, he knelt them down together. Her head fell back and
his lips
slowly traveled her neck to her sharp, firm nipples. Her hands
were in
his hair, pressing him to her, as if he was of a mind to stop and abandon
her, so with a reassuring, strong hand in the middle of her back, he
lay her
down, never allowing his mouth to break contact with her soft fullness.
After a while it became necessary to break contact to remove the rest
of
their clothing, for the urgent necessity to feel the warmth of skin
from
head to toe was overpowering. Chakotay slid her trousers down
and
pushed her boots ahead of them, then knelt up to swiftly hitch his
down
and off, never taking his eyes from her. Then, hovering above
her,
weight resting on large hands gripping the long grasses which concealed
them, he slowly lowered himself until his lips touched hers.
Her hands
sought his shoulders, pulling his chest to her, arching to press her
belly
to his.
The heat of his passion was obvious and she moved to caress him, but
he took her hands and positioned himself between her legs. A
last kiss,
and his eyes glittered at her while he snaked his body down, big shoulders
pushing her thighs wide, tongue trailing wet down her belly.
She gasped in
anticipation and struggled; he still held her hands, and as his tongue
dipped
and played, she gripped his with astonishing strength. He sensed
she was
bitingher lips to avoid crying out, for fear some passer-by would hear
them,
but it was verylate, and he knew they were safe from discovery.
"Don't be
afraid, Kathryn," he told her,lifting his head. "No one's around.
I want to
hear if I please you." He released her hands and she raised up
on her
elbows, panting for breath, looking warily around. "I promise
you, it's
all right" Gently, his hand on her breast, he pushed her back
down and
buried his head once again, and his technique ripped a cry from her
throat
despite her struggle to remain silent.
With the one hand stroking and cupping each breast and the other
tickling between her legs, occasionally dipping and withdrawing, and
the insistent tongue sending electric shocks through her, she was soon
writhing in ecstasy. The next moment his head was beside hers, his
breath
hot upon her ear, and he was deep within her. It had happened
swiftly,
too swiftly, as if he feared she would refuse, but any second thoughts
she
might have had wafted away on the night breeze that caressed them both.
Holding her in his arms, supported on his elbows, hips pressing together,
he stroked in a slow, gentle, steady rhythm. The night sounds
were
diminished in her ears by his breath, the fresh scent of earthy grass
overwhelmed in her nostrils by his scent. The only thing still
clear were
the stars overhead, bearing witness to an act as old as creation itself,
between the two who had despaired of it.
His muscles under her fingers were straining now and she knew he
was waiting for her, so she somehow found the strength for one more
paroxysm and let it overtake her. His exploded soon after in
quivering
harmony and they rocked together in love and joy and total abandonment.
When the quivering of his muscles had ceased, and their breathing had
slowed somewhat, he kissed her softly and whispered in her ear,
"Please don't say you're sorry, Kathryn."
"I'm only sorry I don't have a cigarette," she grinned, panting.
"You know, that complication you spoke of," he said, alluding to her
earlier remark, "I don't think we would have been ex-lovers.
If I had
ever captured you in such a way, Kathryn Janeway, I would have never
let you go. Then," he grinned, white teeth flashing in the dim
lights
off the Embarcadero, "you would have been with me, in the Maquis."
"Chakotay, you know that alternate reality would have affected this
timeline...and thinking of it is giving me a headache."
"I know a cure."
His slow, hot kisses silenced her and his warm hands were once again
upon her body. As she ran her fingers through his cropped black
hair,
and her heart again began racing, she knew it was going to be a long
night
on Makeout Point.
****
The End