The BLTS Archive - Cloudy
companion piece to 'Overcast'
by Your Cruise Director (cruisedirector@livejournal.com)

---

This is actually a third season story, though the setting is first
season, sometime between "State of Flux" and "The 37s." I wanted to
recapture what falling in love with Janeway was like--for Chakotay,
and for me. I wrote this for Diane, Meri, and Deborah, my unholy
trinity of Graces.

---

I'm in trouble.

I'm supposed to be on the bridge, but I'm hiding in engineering,
pretending to need an update on our dilithium refinery project.

Ten minutes ago, Tom Paris stopped me in the corridor and asked, "Did
you just beat B'Elanna at hoverball or something?" When I raised an
eyebrow, he told me I was grinning like a fool. And this morning, at
breakfast, Kes told me I seemed very...energetic. I think Kes can read
us a lot more than she lets on.

But I can't talk to her. I can't talk to B'Elanna right now, sure as
hell can't talk to Tuvok, and I'm the closest thing this ship has to a
counselor. I guess I have to talk to myself. I haven't tried to keep a
personal log in a long time, but if I don't talk to someone, it'll
kill me.

She'll kill me.

Kathryn.

I can't go to the bridge because every time I think her name, I feel
my face getting hot, and that stupid smile comes back. If we were
hailed by hostile aliens, I'd probably start grinning like a fool as
soon as she said, "This is Captain Kathryn Janeway of the starship
Voyager," in that voice of hers. She'd get up from her chair and
stride toward the viewer, stick her chin out, put her hands on her
hips...and I'd forget to concentrate on the enemy, because I'd be
watching her.

Sometimes, on duty, I have to stand up because I feel like I'm going
to float out of my seat, no matter how well the artificial gravity's
working.

I've been trying to make it go away by focusing on reality. I serve
under her, and she has a lover she's trying to get home to. The last
thing she needs is for me to start mooning over her. Somehow it
doesn't make a difference. I feel myself sprinting down the hall,
bouncing on the balls of my feet in the turbolift-- nothing can bring
me down.

I was smitten practically from the moment I met her. She's so strong,
and so beautiful--I kept studying her when I should have been worrying
about the Kazon and the Caretaker. Then standing on her bridge,
listening to her give the order to destroy the Array...I felt
exhilarated. Everyone else was panicked or anguished about being
stranded in the Delta Quadrant, but not me. I didn't know  then what
was going to happen--whether she would throw me in the brig or make me
scrub the deuterium exhaust conduits for the next several decades. I
didn't really expect her to put me on her crew. I never even
considered that she might ask me to be her first officer, not until
the moment she made her intentions clear.

Even so, I knew meeting her was the first good thing to happen to me
in I can't remember how long.

Of course I thought about her that night. Impossible not to. I lay in
Commander Cavit's quarters, too exhausted to rest, my ship gone, my
crew furious with me for getting us stuck on a Starfleet vessel--Seska
cursing my name, B'Elanna avoiding me, Ayala sobbing for his kids, Tom
Paris coolly sizing me up. From this distance, I could finally start
to admit that the Maquis was probably doomed, the DMZ a lost cause. My
father was dead, my people already starting to scatter. What else was
I going to think about if I wanted to soothe myself to sleep? I had
nothing to anchor me anymore...nothing except her.

That first contact on her bridge. Kathryn Janeway, in my face. I'd
seen her on the viewscreen earlier, but hadn't really looked; she'd
been a uniform, not an individual. When she told her crew to lower
their weapons, she was still a Starfleet captain. Then she marched up
to me after I started to threaten Paris, gave me a body block. Her
shoulder touching my chest, her breasts brushing against me. Jaw set,
eyes narrowed, hair taut as metal. Tough, assertive, lovely woman.

We met as equals for that one second, before I stepped back. The first
time of many. Always willingly. I will never forget that she treated
me as a partner while I was a criminal.

It surprised me that she invited me to accompany her to see the
Caretaker. Later I learned it was because she'd done her homework,
she'd read my file very thoroughly--she thought she knew what kind of
a man I was, and went with her instinct to trust me. I wonder if she
knew I'd back her decision to destroy the Array? She never asked me
to. I'd been composing my list of reasons why she shouldn't throw my
crew in the brig, assuming that I only had the freedom of her ship
because I'd kept Tuvok safe on mine. She gave me this job over Tuvok's
objections.

It's been a long time since anyone made me feel this good about
myself. I couldn't help fantasizing about her, dealing with the
emotional high in terms of physical pleasure, but I didn't think it
meant much at first. I wanted to be close to her, and I wanted to make
her happy--even so, I realized I didn't know anything about her. I had
no idea what she was like off-duty, I couldn't tell if she found me
attractive...I didn't know then whether she had a lover back home or
even on the ship. I had only her face and her voice, and the shape of
her body in uniform. The way she carries herself. How easily she
touches people--I could readily project that in terms of what she'd be
like with someone romantically.  And I can imagine how her hair would
look out of that bun, and how it would feel spilling into my hands or
across my chest. I've gotten off with that vision in my head--Kathryn
Janeway leaning over me with her hair cascading onto my skin--

Ahem. Or maybe I mean Amen.

I'm trying to feel ashamed for thinking about her like this, but I'm
just getting excited again. I can't even muster the appropriate guilt
when I catch myself stealing glances at her hair, or her ass. Because
it's not lust--her physical appeal is the most irrelevant aspect of
what draws me to her. It's not her position either, although I
gravitate towards powerful women. I've had crushes on captains before.
I thought this one would fade in a few days, though, when we started
fighting about integrating the crew, and she turned Starfleet on me. I
didn't expect her to take my suggestions for Maquis officers
seriously, so she really shocked me when she gave Torres the job of
chief engineer. Not just the fact that she did it--I figured she might
decide to make some concessions for me to keep the Maquis in line. But
she really went out of her way with B'Elanna, and with Tom too. She
didn't just win them over--she converted them.

She's nothing like I expected, like no other Starfleet captain I've
ever met. Even arguing with her is a revelation--she always listens,
rarely loses her temper, and she concedes so gracefully that it's easy
to do the same. A couple of times I've wanted to hug her after a
dispute, because of the way she defuses potential conflicts--I'm left
with lots of energy and positive feeling, sometimes I want to direct
it back to her.

We haven't argued that much because I've questioned very few of her
decisions. It seemed important when we were trying to integrate the
crews not just for it to look like I supported her, but for her to
feel that I really did; I knew it would show if she trusted me, and
the crew would respond accordingly with confidence in me and the rest
of the Maquis. I was impressed as hell with her those first few  days,
when everything was in chaos, so I tried to give her some relief when
we had a few seconds away from the mess--joked around with her,
flirted a little. I could tell she liked my smile, she went out of her
way to crack me up. I clung to that in private, though it was probably
because I was the only person she could get a real grin out of, in the
circumstances.

Now I can't stop, which should worry me. But I feel great. Every time
I think about her, that grin comes back, and I feel like I can do
anything at all--fly the ship, fix the replicators. Teach Neelix to
cook. The adrenaline's pumping, it makes the work easy. This has never
happened to me before, at least not since I was a teenager, and then
it was kid stuff. I catch myself touching the bulkheads sometimes just
because it's her ship. If Paris knew that, I'd be a dead man.

She surprised me most when she asked about finding her animal guide.
I'd brought up the subject impulsively, to feel her out about
unconventional methods of counseling--I can't even remember what was
troubling her that morning. I expected her to nod and tell me to set
up some kind of support group for the crew. When she said she wanted
to know more, I was ready for her to pull a Torres on me and leave the
room shouting about my crazy rituals, or to react like Seska and scorn
the entire tradition. I figured at best she was humoring me, so she
could come up with her own condescending scientific explanation for
the experience. Still, I  couldn't help bounding into her office with
my medicine bundle, and grabbing her hand as we sat on her floor, like
a kid on a date. Date. I'm never going to forget that she used that
word, even if she didn't mean it. That made me invincible for hours.

I remember how I felt watching her face while she entered the trance.
As soon as I saw her go under--the first time I really saw Kathryn,
without any of the trappings of her rank or role--I was lost. Or maybe
I mean found. Looking at her, seeing that peacefulness come over her
features, I felt at peace myself for the first time in years. She's
not afraid of change, or losing herself, even disconnected from her
home and her people--she welcomes new experiences, with joy and
wonder. I wanted to sit and watch her all day. How could I help but
feel like I was hers? It scared the hell out of me.

If only I could shake the feeling that she's my destiny. Like a bad
holovid. Lost in the Delta Quadrant to find each other...why does that
seem right, as if this is the way things were always supposed to be?
With my whole crew here, B'Elanna running the engines and Tuvok back
at tactical, I have a sense of closure. It feels complete, like a
family, almost, with Kathryn Janeway at the head, and me beside
her...I'm turning into a romantic idiot.

Still, like that evening on the holodeck. I'd gone to shoot some pool
and hang out--I guess I wanted to be around other people to stop
thinking about her too much. I couldn't believe it when she waltzed in
with Harry, as if hanging out in bars with crewmembers was a casual
occurrence for her. She played along so naturally, though I couldn't
tear my eyes from her when that gigolo said he wanted to make love to
her. She was playing a game of her own, though, with Paris, and with
me--Commander Chakotay, your stick. Uh-huh.

I dreamed about her that night. Not flirting. Straightforward, the way
she usually is. No games. We were in her ready room, she smiled at me,
then she put her hand on my arm, as is becoming her habit when she
wants my undivided attention. And kept smiling when I put my arms
around her, and kissed her. No talk of duty or consequence. The
uniforms melted away. I gave myself to her, everything in me, not like
with Seska where I was always trying to remind myself that it was just
screwing. When I woke up, with a headache and a mess all over the
sheets, I had to rush to get to the bridge on time--and guess who I
ran into on the way? She invited me to breakfast, she seemed
unconcerned about the schedule when I used duty as an excuse for
turning her down. Alone in her private  dining room would have been
impossible then...I almost grabbed her right in the corridor,
listening to her describe all the lush, sensual foods she was dreaming
about. I had to concentrate on vacuum-packed oatmeal and take off for
work, I didn't trust myself not to blurt out everything, otherwise.

It had to have been obvious on my face every time I looked at her. I
thought everybody would figure me out right away, but I don't think
they realized what they were seeing. Not even Seska, who accused me of
slavish devotion, but didn't seem to realize where it stemmed from
until her last moments on Voyager. Now that she's gone, I can admit
what a relief it is to have her off the ship and out of my life. She
would have made things hell for both of us. I don't want any past
reminders of the reasons I don't deserve Kathryn Janeway. I just want
to deserve her from now on.

My fantasies about her are getting more elaborate, and more
ridiculous. I imagine that Neelix will concoct some drink that will
give her a hormonal overload, or we'll catch some alien sex disease
like the one that afflicted Picard's Enterprise, and she'll turn to me
as the safest person around. I suppose we could get stuck in a warp
bubble together, or get switched with our counterparts in an alternate
universe like that nasty one Federation crewmembers have visited
before. Maybe Kathryn's evil twin would enjoy having me, well, serve
under her. Maybe I could sneak into one of her holonovels disguised as
a character. One or  both of us could always get taken over by an
alien consciousness, that happens more often than you'd think, but I
wouldn't want it that way--I want this to be real. I can wait until
she realizes that letting me love her to pieces would be better for
her and for the ship than mooning over her dogsitter forever.

I'm hiding in engineering because of what happened this morning. Such
a little thing, and so silly--I'm sure she's forgotten all about it.
Just an accident. We were in the turbolift, something went wrong with
the power grid, and we jerked to a halt and fell against the side of
the lift. I caught her sort of on top of me, with both her elbows in
my hands. She was smashed up against me with her breasts pressing into
my chest, and while we were shaking to a stop, she was balanced on my
groin. After the lift stilled, for a minute, I couldn't let go--I
couldn't even look away from her. I was trying to come up with a joke,
but the only words which stuck in my mind were the ones I knew I
couldn't say.

So I didn't say anything, just kept staring at her face inches away
from mine, and it suddenly occurred to me that she might be having the
same problem right then--she might not trust herself with me, just for
a few seconds. She's human, and aware that I'm attracted to her, at
least on the most superficial level--not that she dwells on it. But
every once in awhile I'll get a flash from her, a split second where I
see her really looking at me, before she shuts down again. This was
like that, only we both knew that the other noticed, this time. It got
difficult to breathe. I was positive that the moment she came to her
senses, she  would be furious with herself and me, and shut down--she
does that when she gets defensive, sometimes she even lashes out. She
knew, I knew, the situation was no longer tenable.

You know what she did? She smiled at me.

OK. She probably smiled because it didn't mean anything much to her.
Just trying to cover her embarrassment and get us back to light,
shallow banter. It's too soon, she hasn't resolved anything yet about
her relationship to the crew, even to me, it probably hasn't really
sunk in yet that she's never going to see her lover again--she must be
used to being away from him for long periods. She's probably flattered
that I occasionally react to her as a woman. She thinks this morning
was a momentary aberration on my part. Nothing really inappropriate
since  it doesn't mean a damn thing.

And here I am, hiding belowdecks, because I'm delirious. Beguiled by
the scent of her hair, terrified lest I reveal my feelings in some
dramatic physical way. I can't decide whether I want to follow her
around with excuses that have to do with work, or avoid her, so I can
think about her, undistracted by the possibility that she'll catch me
daydreaming. I know it's hopeless, I don't even have serious designs
on her. Still, much better to have her in love with a man who's 70,000
light years away than to worry about anyone else on the ship, or even
actually to have to take action myself. Not now, not yet. She'd make
me think about all of the problems, while I'm so bowled over by her
that my emotions  take precedence over the facts. Starfleet protocol,
Mark, Seska, Voyager's unique circumstances, considerations of command
be damned. I'm not ready to try to come to terms with my feelings. I'm
too happy.

I don't have any reasonable expectation that I can have anything more
with her than what we've already got together, not unless things on
the ship change radically, or we get stranded on a planet somewhere.
Sooner or later, if this is real, we'll have to deal with all the
conflicts, the reasons it won't work, and I'll come crashing down from
this high. It's inevitable, I guess.

But it's so hard to believe right now, as I head back toward the
bridge, where I know she's waiting for me. Just to see her, sit beside
her while she works, even watch the bridge for her in her
absence--it's more than enough. Maybe it doesn't get any better than
this. Maybe I couldn't take it if it did.

I'm grinning again.

--

The End