The BLTS Archive - A Real Resolution by Hannah H. (hannah1971@aol.com) --- Uh-huh. Please feel free to read the notes at the beginning of "Peeping Tom" for my prediction as to the screwing-with-our-J/C-minds nature of Monday's episode, "Resolutions." Yes, I loved it; yes, I hated it; yes, I was an absolute *wreck* at work Tuesday. And yes, I'm a big dope who won't be happy until Janeway says, "By the way, Commander, you were *great* last night." So here's my follow-up to Monday's ep. It reflects my thoughts alone on what happened between them, and if you don't agree, that's okay. Life is like that. The great ones, who remain great even with Marcel the Monkey screwing up their perfect scenes, are the property of Paramount. I ain't trying to make money off of this; I just want some peace of mind. :-) --- He stared down at the little tomato plant, watching the way the leaves teased his fingers as he traced the narrow stem from tip to root. It was small, still; only three days had passed since Kathryn--Captain Janeway--had reclaimed it from the plot in which she had carefully planted a dozen of its siblings, and any growth it had managed in the upheaval was unnoticeable. Chakotay wondered absently if she had been down to check on its progress since she had transported it from New Earth to Kes's waiting hands. For a short time, Kathryn--Janeway--had been so methodical about watching the transformation from seed to sprout to small, but recognizable, tomato plant. He heard himself chuckle. He had teased her that she was going to spend more time washing the dirt off her clothes than actually growing anything edible, and she had narrowed her eyes at him with mock menace while brushing at the offending dirt with exaggerated gestures. Finally, she had laughed, and he had gone happily to heat water for her bath. Chakotay had walked slowly away from the fruit section of the hydroponics bay, and now sat heavily on a bench near the flowers. He could readily call up a picture of Captain Janeway's face when Kes had suggested putting benches in the bay--her face lit up like a firefly on a summer night, her eyes glowed-- what a marvelous idea she had said, or something of that nature. She had the same look on her face, in her eyes, when he had let her open her eyes and finally see the secret project he had finished: her bathtub. Sometimes, he mused, it was amazing how easy it was to make her happy. Like the "ancient tale" he told her of the brave warrior--he'd never expected the tears, that smile, the touch ... He leaned forward on the bench, gripping the edges of the seat with his hands. He hadn't realized, until he'd been obliged to put it back on, how uncomfortable their uniforms could be. To make her happy, to make things easier, he had taken to wearing the uniform most of the time when the voyage began, even off duty. It was a symbolic gesture for the benefit of the Maquis crew, but he did it as much for her as he did for the message. It pleased her. Now, though, he knew that they were past that, and he wore civvies, left over from their stay on New Earth. After all, he had found other ways to please her. "Hey." A slight smile spread over his face before he looked up, and when he met Janeway's--Kathryn's--eyes, he noted the same smile. "Hey," he responded. "I know it's a cliche, but ... is this seat taken?" She indicated the half of the bench not taken up by him, the half he had left empty for her. "Looks like it is to me," he offered, and followed her with his eyes as she lowered herself onto the bench. Her hair was down, and, most surprisingly, she wore one of the dresses that had made the return trip with them from the planet. "You look wonderful." She blushed, an echo of the same blush that struck when she had realized he was more than a little interested in the towel she wore during their first encounter with the mysterious little monkey--when she had realized that his hands had stilled on her shoulders during that unexpected backrub. He loved that he could do that to her. "Thanks," she said, and the slightly huffed tone told him that she didn't appreciate her body's involuntary responses. Her voice was warmer when she added, "Were you waiting long?" She was reaching a hand to him, then, and his fingers intertwined comfortably with hers, as instinctive a bond as long-time lovers share. He squeezed gently. "No. Not at all." A lock of hair had fallen in front of her shoulder, and he took it in his other hand, tracing it with fingertips as carefully as he had the tomato plant stem. He leaned in to kiss her cheek; she put a hand up to push him away, teasingly, but changed her mind halfway and circled around the back of his neck instead, pulling him into her. He listened to her breathe for a long moment, his forehead pressed to hers. So fleeting, these moments, when she finally let her guard down, sure of not being discovered by the crew. He closed his eyes, inhaling her scent, hoping that this moment would never pass. "I never expected this, Commander," she chuckled deeply, and he could feel the rumbling purr of her throat where his own palm rested against her neck. "This is one contingency I didn't plan for." "I know, Kathryn," he answered slowly, kissing her face again, moving his mouth towards hers. Her throaty giggle was contagious, and he worked hard not to lose himself in her laughter. "But sometimes ... " He gave in to the laughter then, and, releasing hands, they embraced into an impenetrable mass. "Sometimes what ... Chakotay?" she whispered as he reached for the barrette that held her hair at the crown of her head. He freed the rest of her hair, and loosened it around her face. Pausing just before pressing his lips to hers, he said, "Sometimes the most unexpected things can be the most rewarding." --- The End