Sacrifices

It's my birthday, I am alone in my quarters, the sound of Elgar's cello concerto echoes through the room, surging to its triumphant climax. Before me is a single glass of chardonnay - untouched. It wasn't supposed to be this way.

I knew that a career in Starfleet entailed sacrifices, arguably I was one myself, or at least all the moments of my childhood that my father missed due to the great and glorious ideal of Starfleet were sacrifices. But he still had a home, a family who loved him, even if he could not be with us as often as he wished. I never intended to sacrifice the very things which kept him grounded, but I have.

There is a data padd next to the glass of wine, I don't need to read it, i know it's contents by heart, the words contained in it have been my constant companion for the last few weeks. It is Chakotay's report of an incident which he does not recall, but which he has a record of. It is evidence, finally, of all that I have sacrificed to this ship, this mission. It has cost me Chakotay and there is nothing I can do but accept the fact and learn to believe it is better this way.

A little while ago I sat in the mess hall and watched my crew, really watched them. It was as though I were seeing them for the first time, how had I not noticed how many couples there were among them? How many had paired off in the last year? How long have I been walking around with my eyes closed? Too long. I knew about Tom and B'Elanna, a relationship between two members of my senior staff is difficult to ignore, even for one who has become as adept as not seeing as I. Now I realise they are not the only ones who have fallen in love, learned to take solace from one another. I felt invisible, an outsider in their lives. I have no one to blame but myself for this, and it hurts to know that I have no alternative but to continue.

Perhaps another captain could have got closer to his or her crew and still sent them into danger, sent them, sometimes, never to return. But I am not cut from that cloth - it hurts enough already, I don't think I could manage if I knew more about their lives, if I considered them my friends. Distance is my way of dealing with this - and it was so much less of a problem when i had Mark and my family to return to.

Where did I see myself at this stage in my life? Certainly not lost and alone; I suppose I imagined a life a lot like my father's, a loving relationship, home, children. It does not help me to remember how suffocated I sometimes felt when I was home with Mark between missions, how I used to long to return to space. I am not as much my father's daughter as I thought, or perhaps I am just beginning to realise that I have been running away from things for a lot longer than the four years we've been out here. so far.

That is a sobering thought.

I didn't have to be alone tonight, it was my choice, as it always seems to be. Neelix offered to throw me a party, Chakotay invited me to have dinner with him, but I'm not in the mood to celebrate and I don't think I could put myself through spending time off duty with Chakotay. Not because I am angry, unable to stand the sight of him, but because I am afraid his presence will make my resolve weaken, that I will throw myself into his arms and beg him never to let me go. I can't allow myself the luxury of loving him and yet I do; for weeks I have told myself that the situation is hopeless, our relationship irretrievable, that what I ought to do is find a way for us to be friends - with both of us clear that there is no possibility of more. But my feelings for him are not something I can control, it is not a question of allowing myself anything, I love him, it is a simple immutable fact that when I allow myself to dwell upon it fills me with joy and despair in equal measure.

So, I remain at an impasse, unable to let him go, or to bring him closer; the sacrifices I have made have never seemed so overwhelming.

I glance out of the viewport, see the greens and golds of the planet we are in orbit of, and wish with all my heart that it was Earth.

Sacrifices - part 2

The marketplace is a hive of frenzied activity. Its stalls stretching as far as the eye can see, selling goods I could not imagine in my wildest dreams. There are people everywhere, the whole area teeming with countless species, some I can identify, more I can not. The sound is deafening, hundreds, if not thousands of voices raised in the act of buying, selling or bartering. My eyes and nostrils are stinging from the aroma of unfamiliar spices and scents. It is a cacophony of the new and the strange, a chaotic assault on the senses that is tantamount to being bludgeoned, and I, the great explorer, the pursuer of brave new worlds, am interested in none of it.

Instead my attention is drawn to one slight woman, standing on the fringes of the crowd, seemingly immune to the sound and motion going on around her. She is standing still, as she has been since I first saw her, long minutes ago; leaning back against one of the crush barriers, her head turned sideways, her gaze seeming to rest on her own hand, stretched out before her, resting on one of the railings.

She is an oasis of still and calm, in stark contrast to the uproar of the crowd and now I am close enough to see her properly I realise that she isn't actually looking at her own hand. In fact her gaze is far away, abstracted. As though she is dwelling on matters of far greater importance than a crowded marketplace. Sometimes she can be so damn aristocratic, patrician - it merely reinforces the impression of distance between us. The unattainable, beautiful Kathryn Janeway.

And I want her.

That probably makes me the biggest fool alive, but I can't help myself. There is the equivalent of a three ring circus going on around me and still she is all I can see, all I can think about.

I feel my heart rate speed up, my breathing become shorter, shallower; the tightening in my groin that reminds me that I am human and that at least part of my response to her is sexual. I've never known a woman who can have this effect on me, whose merest gesture can touch my soul, like sunshine on a blackbird's wing.

I've spent many days and nights wondering what she thinks of me, how she sees our relationship; the eternal, imponderable question - does she love me? Does she care about me in even a fragment of the way I care about her?

The answers to these questions depend entirely on my mood, sometimes I believe, with complete certainty that she does love me, that someday she will find a way to show me this, a way that does not involve choosing between me and Voyager. But there are other days, days when our relationship flounders on the rocks which lurk just beneath the surface - days when I wonder if she feels anything at all, when such simple emotions as love and loving seem beyond her. But still she draws me to her.

I realised a long time ago that I had not fallen in love with some misguided idea of who she is; the brilliant, confident Starfleet captain. I fell in love with a woman who is all those things but a woman who can also get things wrong, who can be stubborn, selfish, who can cause pain. A woman who can make mistakes and then be haunted by the consequences.

I know she is hurting, she's been more distant than usual in the last few weeks. I know it's my fault, but typically we haven't discussed it, we'll probably never discuss it. It doesn't make it any easier that I don't remember what happened, that I'm as confused about the whole episode as she is.

I weave my way through the crowd towards her, she is more compelling than anyone I have ever met. Even now when I know all her instincts are telling her to put even more distance between us, I don't want to let her go without a fight.

It is clear that I am the last person she expected to see, her expression goes in the blink of an eye from distant to unguarded, vulnerable, naked. I can see fear, isolation and love; it is fascinating and terrifying. My voice, when I find it is hoarse, it cracks with emotion - and the words I speak are from the very depths of my heart. I feel as though i am just about to step off the edge of a precipice.

'Kathryn, I want you, let me make love to you, just for today, let me love you.' Her words are carried away by the noise of the crowd, but I can read her lips, one word,

'Yes.'

Sacrifices - part 3

Our hands bind us together as we make our way through the crowds of people, I know that I am hurrying - but she is glued to my side, unmoved by the jostling, or the gaps we squeeze through. I glance at her face every now and again - she is intent, focussed, a look I've seen a hundred times, in battle, at times of crisis. I know she is fighting her conscience and her training; that her desires are at war with her very nature. It is a battle I do not believe I can effect the outcome of. Now I am prepared to grasp the moment, tomorrow we both might regret our actions.

The main square lies at the edge of the market place; I walked this way from the beam in site, noticed the hotels there almost in passing. A small smile crosses her face as we sprint up the steps of the first one we come to. It is almost as though the clock is running, as though we are two Ensigns who have escaped from our superiors for a few hours, not the Captain and the First Officer. The receptionist detects my, our urgency and names an exorbitant price for the room for the day. I protest, start to negotiate, until a hand winds it way around my forearm in a caress and a soft, sultry voice whispers, 'pay them anything they want.'

We kiss for the first time barely inside the door of our room. Kathryn steps into my arms and her lips touch my cheek delicately and then brush over my mouth as her arms wind around my neck. The realisation of a thousand dreams come true crashes over me in that moment and I am still amazed that she has accepted this, is in fact actively participating. But my doubts and my fears are absolved as she deepens our kiss, parting her lips to admit my tongue as my hands find the seal to her uniform jacket.

The next moments are a blur of movement, exploration and desire. Her lips and fingers sweep over my chest, leaving my head heavy with sensation; the feel of her in my arms, the knowledge of what is to come. As I pull her turtleneck off I am confronted with pale, creamy skin which seems to demand the touch of my hands, my lips; a demand I am more than happy to comply with.

We stand like this for the longest time, holding each other, touching, tasting; whispering softly to one another, half words, sighs, endearments. I want to stay like this with her forever. I guide her back onto the edge of the bed, kneeling at her feet as she sits before me, beautiful, completely new, her body flushed with arousal, her breath coming in gasps. I start to run my palms over her and she sucks in a breath at the contact, her ribs rising sharply; she is too thin I notice and my touch becomes softer, more soothing. Slowly I remove the remainder of her uniform and her underwear and as I slide the last, small, soft piece of cloth over her hips I stare at her with absolute awe. One of her hands rests on the bed, clutching the delicate fabric that passes for a counterpane; the other rests on my shoulder, her fingertips tracing invisible patterns against my skin, her touch sending shards of heat throughout my body. Her head is thrown back in abandon and the afternoon sun, which pours through a window we did not even notice, let alone consider covering, catches the reds and golds of her hair as it falls around her face, sets it on fire.

The seconds stretch; anticipation and tension building between us as I slowly allow my hand to move upwards, to find heat and moisture. My exploration is tantalisingly slow, my concentration fixed entirely on the need to give her pleasure. Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips as my fingers move lazily through her folds, feeling her shudder and thrust slightly against my hand. She tightens her grip on me, her nails digging into my shoulder as I lower my lips to follow the path of my hand. My tongue strokes slowly over her, until I hear her gasp - my name - and a sugre of triumph fills me. Her hand is wrapped into my hair, pressing me into her, the air is filled with her scent, the sound of her groans. Abruptly she tenses, stills and gasps out my name as I feel the spasm of her inner muscles and the shake of her body. She falls back onto the bed looking beautiful, dishevelled - her body glowing, I have never wanted her as much as I do in that moment.

We are not patient and gentle but instead seem to be ravenous for each other, mouths, hands desperate to touch everywhere, in case we never get another chance. Our bodies crash together feverishly, our mutual goal to reach the pinnacle together as quickly as possible. Quickly, much too quickly my control has snapped and I am thrusting rapidly into her. She climaxes with a low quivering cry and as I feel her orgasm I am lost as well, collapsing into her arms as I come.

She surprises me in the next few moments, as I roll off her she covers my face with tiny kisses, her hands running slowly over my back and shoulders. When I hug her to me she hugs me back, settling into the cradle of my arms, smiling sleepily as I brush a few damp curls away from her forehead. I kiss her cheek and as I watch she closes her eyes and drifts off to sleep. I've wanted to watch Kathryn sleep like this for such a very long time, so much so that I shake off my own torpor just so that I can look at her.

I watch her, memorising the faint smile on her lips, the tiny droplets of perspiration on her brow and the blush which marks the line of her collarbone. Sleep creeps up on me and gradually I relinquish my hold on consciousness. In the last moment before I close my eyes I realise how much it will cost me to give her up now.

Sacrifices - part 4

When I open my eyes the first thing I see is his face; we are wrapped in each others arms, our bodies still entangled. His eyes are closed, his expression full of peace and, unexpectedly, I find myself fighting back tears. It just feels so natural, so right - as though there is no other way I ought to be waking up. It is a mistake I know, but for a moment I allow myself the luxury of pretending that we are different people, with different lives. In my imagination this is not the first time we have woken up together, there we have been a couple for a year, perhaps longer, we have a life together, a home, possibly even a family. This is not a hurried few hours that we have snatched away from our responsibilities, but instead a romantic afternoon shared by two people who have no reason to be afraid of their intimacy but who realised a long time ago how they felt about each other - and acted upon those feelings.

I move slightly and my dream falls to pieces around me, my body feels sore from the activity; muscles I haven't used in the last four years protesting - and yet I wouldn't trade this afternoon, especially since the memory may have to keep me company for several years to come, possibly even a lifetime. Still he slumbers and I wonder what his dreams are about, whether they are happy or tinged with regret, sadness. Responsibility reasserts itself and I remember the ship, the call in I, we have missed. Tuvok must know where we are, that we're together and safe, he probably knows what's happened between us as well - if he had any doubts about our safety he'd have sent an armed security detachment after us by now. I know the way his mind works.

I move carefully from the bed, freezing as Chakotay stirs, but he doesn't wake; instead he slides a little further into the space that my body has just been occupying, burrowing his way deeper into the bedclothes. The wave of tenderness this prevokes brings tears to my eyes - again. I wasn't expecting to feel like this, so sad, I don't know what I was expecting to feel - I was so swept away by him, lost in that glorious explosion of a moment, lost in a man who had just walked up to me and told me he wanted me. I never want to let him go - but I will.

My communicator is still attached to my jacket which is on the floor, with the rest of our clothes. As I separate it I remember that waking moment, the way we'd slept, holding onto each other, knowing that we will have to let go eventually.

I take the comm badge into the bathroom and have a quiet conversation with Tuvok. He responds to my initial hail by asking me to wait. I hear the swish of the doors and realise he has gone from the Bridge to my Ready Room so that we can at least have a private conversation. I am glad of his discretion, although I am not sure now what purpose it will serve.

I don't bother with an excuse or an elaborate explanation, couldn't summon one if my life depended upon it. So I restrain myself to apologising, tell him that we're fine, that we'll be back soon once we have attended to a few personal matters. Tuvok's reply is perfectly noncommital; he doesn't exactly tell me to take as long as I, we need - but that's the feeling I get, that he thinks it's logical that we sort out our personal demons, I don't know if he understands what that is likely to entail.

After I've closed the connection to the ship I find myself wondering what I've done, what I was thinking, how I could possibly have forgotten responsibility and duty for a whole afternoon? But I know the answer to that, I know the reason, I know every inch of his body - now. I know the depth of his eyes and the taste of his skin, I know about the mole on his stomach and the scar on his shoulder - I know him and I don't want to give him up, but I know that I can; and that makes it harder somehow.

Back in the bedroom and Chakotay is still fast asleep, either he sleeps like this all the time, which I doubt since he always responds quickly to emergencies, or he is more tired than I thought. Perhaps we both are, tired of keeping things at bay, tired of keeping emotions and desires under control.

I kiss his brow, his eyelids and his cheek until he wakes. His smile is like sunrise in that first moment and I have my questions about his dreams answered. But then I know he has remembered and I know that he knows that I have not changed my mind - I expect pain and I see resignation.

We make love again - slowly this time, our movements seem to be burdened by the weight of what we must give up. His hands hold my hips in place as he thrusts in counterpoint to me, slowly, so slowly I don't know how he can stand to hold back, to wait for me - but he does. As I move above him, arching and rocking to his tempo I realise there are tears streaming down my face, that I am crying for him, for me, for us.

Sacrifices - Part 5

We lie together afterwards, awake this time, spooning in each others arms, still touching, still holding on; both of us reluctant to let go. Even though we have been here for most of the afternoon already and we both know that we will have to go back eventually. As the light fades from the day we start to talk, not about 'us' or command, or about what we will have to do when we leave this room, this sanctuary, but inconsequential lovers' talk. The kind that is part curiousity, part jealousy - prevoked by the need to know who this person is that you have allowed into your life. It surprises me when she begins though, I was not expecting her to want to know. But she rolls onto her side to look at me, with the sheet wrapped tightly around her and her hair spilling over the pillow and asks me about my first lover.

I wach her face as I tell her about Meena, see her smile at the genuine affection in my voice as I describe the afternoon I lost my virginity to the girl who lived next door. Her slight shyness at discussing something so personal is enchanting. The poignancy of the moment hits me when I realise that somehow we have gone about this the wrong way, that we should not be lying here, finding out about each other, having just made love for the second time - but we are.

In my mind's eye I can see that fifteen year old boy who can not quite believe his luck at being allowed to touch a woman's body for the first time. Somewhere deep inside of me he is still there - and a few hours ago, when I first kissed Kathryn there was a little of that wonder in me once again.

But I am curious now, know she would not have asked me if she were not prepared to divulge the same information herself, so of course I ask. It's a sad tale, not that unusual even now. I can see the young woman she was, desperately trying to make amends for her success, to make amends for something beyond her control. She whispers something about learning the hard way and I wish for her sake that it had been different.

The minutes trickle by, we are silent, still - both of us, I think waiting for the other to make the first move. Abruptly she sits up, hugs her knees to her chest and tells me that she has checked in with Tuvok, and that it really is time to leave. I want to persuade her to stay longer, tell her that if Tuvok knows where we are we may as well stay until nightfall, or better still tomorrow morning - but I want to make things easier for her, so I agree and force myself to get up.

I make bets with myself as we dress, how long I can go without looking at her, speaking to her, touching her - and lose everyone of them. All of the time I am hoping against hope that she will change her mind, that she will suddenly tell me that it doesn't have to be this way, that we can be together after all - that this is a beginning, not and end - but it doesn't happen.

As we leave I look back at the room, wanting to fix it in my memory, for all that it is not especially luxourious, or especially memorable. She reaches down and squeezes my hand with hers and when I look at her I remember that she cried, that she would change her mind if she could, but that she has to be the Captain, while she only wants to be my lover; and for as long as she believes the two are incompatible then that will have to be the way it is.

We step, blinking into the sunlight of the late afternoon, the market still noisy and crowded before us. She loosens her hold on my hand and I see responsibility return to her with all of its lethal force. She opens her mouth to say something, I don't know what - but I stop her, my finger on her lips as I whisper,

'It's all right, I know.' Then I kiss her one last time, a long open mouthed kiss which she does not back away from, or resist, until I pull back. My forefinger strokes her cheek once - and although I know I am prolonging a moment which must come, still I can not help myself. I wrench my gaze away from hers and step into the crowds. I do not look back.

Sacrifices - Part 6

My attention drifts away from the data padd I am reading and I forget the need to concentrate on its contents, I forget about the away mission tomorrow which I ought to be preparing for, I forget about everything - except him.

It's been a month now and I still can't stop thinking about Chakotay, all that we were to each other for that brief fragment of time. It is almost breaking my heart that it actually seems to have improved our working relationship, for now. I suppose it's that the uncertainty has gone, that at least we know now how we feel about each other, finally. But I can't allow that to continue, if I let him keep thinking that I might change my mind I'll only hurt him more. I need to make him understand that there is no hope, that I can't change my mind, that he is a sacrifice I have to make, given our circumstances. Even though I don't want to, even though I love him.

Taking away the uncertainty, letting him know something about my feelings was the only gift I could give him and it isn't enough. He deserves more, he deserves to know how very much he means to me and he deserves the relationship we could have - but I can't allow myself to do that. The risks seem too great. A relationship between us would effect our every interaction on duty, every discussion, decision and order and if one of us were to be lost - I don't know if the other could continue and that's the risk I know I can't take.

But still he haunts me; that night, after we returned from the planet I couldn't sleep, I lay on my bed, my body aching for him, remembering how he had touched me, how it had felt to hold him. I am struggling against the tide of my feelings, the pull of him - I don't know how to stop that, just that it will have to be done. Finally I will have to be clear with him, have the confrontation we have both been avoiding. But not yet - the trade mission takes priority, it's liable to be awkward, and I can't afford to be distracted by Chakotay - I'll talk to him when it's safely behind us, when we have what we need and we are out of danger.