AUTHOR: Sally
SUMMARY: Chakotay POV, set some time after Voyager gets home
RATING: PG, some mild swearing
DISCLAIMER: only Benji himself does not belong to Paramount… how’s that?
THANKS: to Beth, Jo, Chris and Becca for reading this through for me.
NOTE: Its amazing how one sentence in a conversation can trigger a memory, and that’s what happened to me, and how come I was able to create this. This piece is inspired by a late night conversation at a party many years ago. This is dedicated to the original Benji. Should he ever find this and read it I hope he will not take offense at my use of the nickname I gave him all those years ago. Added: 12/29/01. I have not heard any news of my friend in a couple of years. Until yesterday. This story is now dedicated to the memory of Benji's mum, with thanks for giving me such a great friend throughout some turbulent high school years.
It’s easy these days to look back and laugh, to smile about the way things once were. It helps that Kathryn makes it easy. She is willing to sit down with me and remember. I still recall the first time that happened. It was at the first crew reunion. Tom and B’Elanna’s idea. Get the crew together without all the brass. And I just happened to be the person with the land to spare. We chose a midsummer evening, and partied well into the morning. We could have been our children, the way we were acting. Bonfires were started as the night fell in and the following morning bleary-eyed people gradually made their way over to us, thanking us for all that we had done. They didn’t just mean the party.
I’d had to actually force Seven into attending the damn thing. She spent a few hours socialising and then disappeared into the house for the rest of the night. I think she expected me to follow her but, unlike her, I always enjoyed a good party. And when the captain and first officer don’t have to play at rank then it’s better.
So Kathryn and I ended up gravitating towards each other. Natural, I suppose. We’d been friends for years, and at events on Voyager I’d usually accompanied her. As people gradually began to fall asleep, or pass out from the alcohol that had been inbibed, we’d ended up sitting a little ways off, watching over our people, as if we were still responsible for them.
The conversation turned silly, as it often did. It was now her way of dealing with the guilt she still felt even after all this time. I played the role of straight man, letting her jokes bounce off me while reassuring her all the time. Somehow we ended up with me sitting up, and her lying down, head leaning against my thigh. I wanted to reach out and run my fingers over her hair, flowing loose over my leg, but I couldn’t.
And then, amazingly we managed to talk about us. I found myself apologising for making life awkward by falling for her. Those feelings that I’d always had for her had disappeared. I don’t know when or how. Well, I suppose that had been evident when I found myself dating Seven.
Kathryn had never felt the same way I had. She valued me as a close friend, and confessed as much that evening. And I felt glad that I’d never pressured her any further, that we had both left the matter well enough alone all these years. Somehow through it all we came, friendship intact and our sense of humour still as crazy.
As the sun had come up over the edge of the horizon we slowly shifted and parted. Our crew gradually left, drifting off in two and threes. Kathryn hitched a ride back with the Wildmans and Icheb later on. There’s a story about Icheb and Naomi from that same evening, but that’s for another time. I went back to the house and crawled into bed. Slept most of the day through, much to my wife’s disgust. She was just relieved the event was over.
Unfortunately for her, the Paris’ had other ideas. What was supposed to be a one-off became an annual event. Over the next few years people gathered at my farm, the numbers attending varied from year to year. Eventually, they began to bring with them spouses and loved ones, who felt privileged to be invited to such an event. Kathryn and I ended up informally hosting the events, not exactly our doing, but it was us they all came to thank the following morning.
After event number three Seven left.
To be honest, I think I was surprised she stuck it out that long. I knew she was uncomfortable. I mean, no one must like to be reminded of her husband’s former love. The rest of the year, as if by silent agreement, Kathryn and I stayed out of contact. But at the reunions we gravitated toward each other, to catch up one another’s news. Seven would disappear inside and for the one night we’d be best friends again, passing a sleepless night the way we had done for so many years on Voyager.
The same year that Seven left, Kathryn brought with her the new man in her life. He proved to be an instant hit, and seemed to take a liking to me as well. By the time the sun came up I had Kathryn laying her head on one of my legs and him on the other. I’d never thought of myself as a dog person, but this golden retriever lying like this changed my mind. In the morning she’d made a crack about doggy morning breath and Benji had just looked at her, black eyes gleaming, tongue loosely hanging out the side of his mouth. That dog knew he was in no danger from her.
Strangely enough, Ben was also the name of the man that Seven eventually took up with. They never came to the reunion, but I heard from Harry since he worked with both of them. I think Kathryn was nearly sick when she heard that name. From then on, the dog was called nothing but Benji. If one of us was in a foul mood and he’d done something wrong then he was called Ben. Dogs are intelligent creatures. They soon learn. And Benji did. It didn’t matter the tone of voice, he knew by the name he was called whether or not he was in trouble.
That dog was smart too. He got into my house the year after Seven left. On a low table I had two pictures. One of my ex-wife, the other of my best friend. It sounds strange to have had a picture of Seven still but she was my wife, and I had loved her. Anyway, Benji got into the house and into the room where the pictures were. Kathryn had run in after him, calling him, pleading with him to come to her. I had followed. We caught up with Benji in that room and he had turned and looked at us, eyes pleading, face grinning. And tail wagging. With one swift wag of that tail he had knocked Seven’s picture onto the floor and smashed the glass. Kathryn’s picture, which had been stood next to it, barely moved.
Kathryn had laughed and called him Benji, even as she lifted him away from the broken glass on the floor. She succeeded, but only after he’d managed to put a large paw right in the middle of Seven’s face.
Eventually I laughed as well. How ironic life could be at times. We cleaned up the glass between us, and the picure ended up with the garbage. I think I may have been the one to put it there, but it was past repair anyway. Kathryn made a crack about Benji being well trained. I had to agree. We were still protective of each other, and I know the air had been blue the day Kathryn had found out about Seven leaving. No doubt the wise thing had been listening to his mistress’ words as she expressed her feelings on the subject.
The reunions continued. We watched our family grow up, some left us, others joined us. Kathryn began to stay longer than the night. She’d arrive days before the event and leave several days afterwards. Benji would run in the fields while we’d sit on the front porch. Sometimes we’d sit in comfortable silences, while other times we would laugh about the events of that particular gathering.
And it hit me one day that this was what I’d once pictured. The two of us, like this. Sitting on a porch, teasing each other over subjects such as coffee versus tea, while a dog bounded about in the distance, chasing the local wildlife.
On an impulse I asked her to stay. She must have acted impulsively as well because she immediately said yes. Within a month she had moved her possessions into what had once been the guest room and now it was her room. Benji took up his corner of the kitchen, near the stove.
He’d watch us sometimes as we bantered. Must have been wondering what was going on between us. We realised that we did love each other, but it was no longer the wild, romantic love I’d once dreamed of. This was a deep comfortable love, and I found myself totally content with it. And he must have been happy too, I suspect.
When he died, ten years later, we both found ourselves miserable over it. He’d been a part of our lives for so long it was hard to remember a time without him. We made a little plot for him out back and buried him there. During the reunions we’d occasionally come across people sitting there, in quiet contemplation. He’d been a favourite among the crew.
Tom would shake his head at me. An older Tom now, his only daughter grown up and married to a son of another former crewmember. He’d shake his head at me as if to chastise me for allowing myself to come second to a dog. But second had always been my place. Second to Voyager, second to Benji.
And you know what, to this day, I still don’t mind. Because every night I still have the pleasure of Kathryn’s company.
Funny that… first it was Voyager that drew us together, then it was the actions of a dog. Every so often I find myself looking across at Kathryn and shaking my head. There was always something that drew us back to each other. Now there’s no Voyager, no Benji to keep us together. Just memories. And just us.
FINIS