Here it is . The J/C special (at least I hope so).

Dedicated to: First to Kate and Robert (for their wonderful contribution to the acting world)
Also to my sister, Ame, her friend Allison, and my good friend Lauresta (even though she’s not
too optimistic about this whole relationship)

A Wish To Dream On (Part One)
by Lisa

Captain Kathryn Janeway sat at her desk in her ready room, going over the day’s routine.
She sipped her tea silently, deep in thought.
The bell chimed, and Janeway absently called the usual “Come.” In walked Commander
Chakotay, her first officer. “Excuse me, Captain,” he said, handing her a notepad. “These are
the security updates from Tuvok. He certainly wants to live up to his promotion.”
“What did you expect, Chakotay?” Janeway said, smiling. “Of course, knowing him, he
would probably have done this anyway, wouldn’t he?”
Chakotay laughed. “You’re right.” Suddenly, he became uneasy. “Are you still up to dinner
tonight?”
Janeway’s grin remained as she answered, “Yes, but I’m not so sure about you.” At his
questioning gaze, she continued, “You’ve been more uncomfortable around me with each new
day. Is there something that I’ve done wrong?”
*I wonder what he thinks of me?*
“No!” Chakotay responded, almost too quickly. He sighed and said, “I’ll tell you at dinner,
all right?”
Janeway wanted to question further, but Chakotay left before she could ask any thing more.
*He loves you.*
Janeway started at the sudden thought, then began to wonder why it had come at all.

Chakotay walked down the hall toward his quarters after his duty shift ended. He had to hurry
so that he would be ready for dinner, especially considering what had happened that morning.
*You love her, and you’re afraid to admit it.*
*Get out of my head.*
*Not until you listen.*
Chakotay pushed the thoughts out of his head, not wanting to think about that right then. He
hurried through the hallways, hoping that the night would turn out the way he expected it to.

Janeway paced nervously in her quarters. She had no idea what to wear to dinner, and
Chakotay
was coming in a half-hour.
*Why so self-conscious? Just wear a dress and you’ll be fine.*
Janeway wouldn’t take the advice kindly. She tried on several dresses before choosing one, and
still felt uncomfortable. What was wrong with her? Chakotay had been her friend and first officer
for
three years now, but with each passing day, it seemed to become more than a friendship. This
scared
Janeway more than she could admit. What if they were really in love? What if that happened and
they got home to their families and her husband. What would he think?
The questions rolled around in her head. The more she tried to push them away, the more they
came back to haunt her.
*What are you going to do now, Kathryn? You’ve gotten yourself into a really big mess .*
The bell chimed, and Janeway forced the thoughts out. She would pull through this. She
always
did. She walked to the door and gave into Chakotay’s smile, following his gestures to the
holodeck.

The evening went fairly well, or so Chakotay thought. They talked a lot, and even shared a
few
laughs, but still their hidden feelings hovered over them both. Chakotay could see Kathryn holding
back on some subjects.
“What do you plan on doing when we finally make it home?” was one such question. She
looked around for a while, as if deep in thought, then avoided the question entirely by bringing up
something that he himself wanted to avoid. Finally, the most feared question appeared.
“What was it you wanted to tell me, Chakotay?”
Chakotay sat, thinking a dozen things at once.
*So tell her, already!*
*She might reject me, and I’d lose everything that has happened for the past three years. Then
where would I be?*
*If you don’t take the chance, you’ll never know, will you?*
Chakotay sighed heavily, then turned to Janeway.
“Kathryn,” he began uncertainly, “we’ve been friends for quite a while now, right?”
She nodded, and he continued.
“I’ve been thinking a lot lately about where we’ve been going in this relationship, and I’ve been
almost hoping that it might go a little further.”
Janeway’s gaze never faltered as she looked into his deep brown eyes. After a silence that lasted
for several minutes, she whispered, “I’m afraid, Chakotay. Almost too afraid to be here at all.”
Tears
welled up in her eyes, but she fought them back. “What will happen when we get home? What
about
my husband?”
The statement hit Chakotay like a knife. Her husband hadn’t come up very much at all, no
matter how much they talked about home. *She does have a good reason to be afraid,* he
decided. *The only family I had was my father, and he’s been dead for years.*
Without warning, Janeway began to cry. Naturally, Chakotay went over to her and held her,
wanting nothing more than to comfort her. What more could he do?
*I love you, Kathryn Janeway, and nothing will stop that.*
He almost said the sentence out loud, but stopped himself. That would not help anything right
now.
They finally broke apart. Janeway wiped her tears away and tried to regain her dignity, but only
partially succeeded. “I’d better leave,” she whispered, then left Chakotay alone in the whistling
breeze of the holodeck.

* * * *

“I still do not understand this new concept of food,” Seven complained to Neelix. “It is most
disorienting.”
Neelix laughed and motioned her into another bite of the food in front of her. “It’s good for
you!”
he exclaimed. Then he began hoping again that no more such incidences as last weeks’ would
occur again.
The door to the mess hall slid open, and in walked Captain Janeway. She looked tired, and
Neelix decided to take on this new challenge. He put on his biggest grin and called, “Captain, care
to join us?”
Seeing Seven and Neelix, Janeway smiled and moved over to their table. She sat down almost
as if she were collapsing, and her tired look lingered. “How about some of your Corilian stew,
Neelix? I think I could use some right about now.”
Seizing the opportunity, Neelix hurried over to the kitchen and made the stew, making up
comments in his mind while he worked.
When he brought the stew, he started to repeat his long list. “Are you feeling a little under the
weather today, Captain?” By the way she looked at him, he knew the answer was yes. “What
seems to be the problem?”
Janeway sighed and took a sip of the stew before answering. “I just haven’t been getting much
sleep lately, Neelix. There’s been too much happening.”
“Perhaps you should take some time to work in the holodeck workshop,” Seven commented,
grateful to take a small break from the distasteful food that Neelix had to given her, of which she
still didn’t get the idea as to why she had to eat. “Your Master Leonardo might help to get your
mind off this ship for a short time.”
Janeway smiled at Seven, amazed at all the changes happening to her as she grew more
accustomed
to life on Voyager. “Thank you, Seven, but I really don’t have time to even eat breakfast. I have
to get onto the bridge and do all the daily propaganda.” She tasted some more of the stew, tried to
deep her face clean of disgust, then asked, “Do you two want to come to a holodeck party I’m
having next week?”
Neelix immediately said yes, but Seven looked puzzled. “What will be the nature of this—
party?”
Janeway smiled. “Commander Chakotay’s birthday is next week, and I thought we could
surprise him.” The thought of Chakotay brought pain to her heart, but she hid it away from her
companions. She didn’t want anyone to know what happened the night before.
Neelix almost felt that same pain, but in a different way. “Remember when we threw a party
for Kes on her 2nd birthday? She was so confused at all that was happening, and yet she loved
everything, and just because we did it for her .”
Janeway put her hand on his, as if to say sorry, then left the room before she herself started to
cry.

*************
“Love takes time to heal
when you’re hurting so much.
Couldn’t see that I was blind
to let you go.
I can’t escape the pain inside
’cause love takes time.
I don’t wanna be here
I don’t wanna be here alone.”
“Love Takes Time”—Mariah Carey
*************

*One week later.*
Chakotay entered the holodeck, expecting half the crew, but found only Captain Janeway
shooting pool in the once familiar French bar. Seeing him, she smiled and beckoned him over. He
was handed a pool cue and the game began.
As time went, the tension eased between them. Suddenly, Chakotay remembered that they
were alone. “Where’s everyone else?” he asked. “I thought this was a party.”
Janeway muttered a usual to the game, “Eight ball, corner pocket.” The ball went in without a
scratch, making her the winner of the last four games. The clock chimed 8 o’clock, and Janeway
walked over to the bar. She reached behind and retrieved a small package wrapped in colored
paper and a single ribbon. This she handed to Chakotay, motioning him to open it.
Intensely curious, he carefully unwrapped the package. Inside was a string of old Indian beads.
He was confused for only a moment, then realized its meaning. Though he understood it, he eyed
Janeway curiously. “Just what am I supposed to do with this?” he asked with a bit of sarcasm.
With a sly look, Janeway said, “They are special Indian beads. The one who holds them can
use them to make one wish that his heart truly wants.” Janeway paused a moment, then added,
“At least, that’s what the legend says.”
Chakotay looked deep into Janeway’s eyes, then followed the tradition that was put before him.
He took Janeway’s hand and wrapped the beads around her wrist. Then he pulled her close to him
and
kissed her.
Janeway felt a strange warmth flow through her. An immense guilt held inside for a few
moments, but disappeared as she wrapped herself in the love given to her.
The door to the bar opened, and in walked Tom Paris and B’Elanna Torres, hand in hand. The
couple was disoriented by the bar scene for a short time, and then their eyes fell on the only two
people
in the room. Tom smiled, and B’Elanna blushed. After a moment, Tom coughed politely.
Janeway and Chakotay split with a start. The two couples stared at each other for a few
moments, unsure of what to say, then suddenly began laughing, mostly because they had all now
been in this embarrassing position. Soon more people came into the room, saying their “Happy
Birthday, Chakotay!” None of the four ever spoke of that moment to anyone, purely for respect
of their own trials.

To be continued .

Legal whatever, Paramount’s people, my jazz-reel (I’m a musician if you can’t tell)
Copyright 1997 (I think this is what I’m supposed to put, and I’m hoping no suing will take
place )

Author’s note: I’m not totally sure about all the foods eaten on Voyager, so bare with me. I’m
also no expert on Indian rituals. Comments can go to me at AEARDG@aol.com

Delta Story
cmwende@compuserve.com

FRUITFUL PERSUASION NC-17

Summary: What happens when Janeway and Chakotay run into each other in search of a
midnight snack?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The halls of Voyager were quiet.

It was gamma shift, after a very busy day of onloading food supplies from the
welcome find of an M class planet brimming with lush, ripe crops. The planet’s
inhabitants had been most willing to trade some of some of their prolific natural
resources for some of Voyager’s surplus vanadium. B’Elanna had been almost
grateful for being able to rid the ship of the vanadium, a thoroughly useless
byproduct of the dilithium fusion process in
the warp coils — it was one less headache for her.

A lone figure slipped through the darkened halls on Deck 2. Unable to sleep — once
again — the ship’s captain decided to go to the kitchen area and begin the inventory
of their new
foodstuffs that Neelix and Ens. May were going to perform on alpha shift. How she
hated to see time wasted! And, this would be “busy work” that might… just might…
lull her into a more relaxed state.

The only light in the mess hall area came from the low luminance indicator light in
the refrigerated area. She carefully wove her way around the bags and baskets
loaded with produce that had not been put into the chilling compartment. Her
cursory survey of
the items revealed a medley of sizes and textures and colors of ripe fruits and
vegetables, a truly welcome treat for the whole crew. Many of the items resembled
counterparts she remembered from Earth… and unsummoned visions of late
summertime harvests
in Indiana emerged in her conscious thoughts.

Like a child in a candy store, she reached for some of the tempting goodies.
*Captain’s prerogative,* she thought, as she decided to “liberate” a few pieces for
her quarters. After all, wasn’t this area once *her* private dining room? Besides,
she would tell Neelix tomorrow; it really wasn’t as if she were stealing! She looked
around for a suitable container. There was a small basket, inconspicuously laying
in the corner. *Perfect!*
she thought, as she reached behind its more heavily laden
companions. She
randomly grabbed and picked from the overflowing containers around her, until,
likewise, her basket had a plethora of produce. She wrapped her right arm
securely around her trophy
and held its contents in place with her outspread left hand. She decided that the
inventory could wait; she would take her prizes back to her quarters and privately
enjoy the succulence of a couple pieces.

She heard a “whoosh”; the doors to the main area had opened. In horror, she
realized that it was probably a security check…someone had noted personnel in the
area during an off time. She turned, her eyes wide with panic… for having been
caught with her hand in the cookie jar… or, fruit baskets, in this case.

“Captain?” She heard a familiar voice call out.

She sighed with relief. “Chakotay!” Her voice rang out in relief. “What are you doing
here?”

“I was just going to ask you the same thing. I was working late in my ready room,
and noticed on the security monitor that there was someone in the mess hall.
When I inquired as to who it was and was told that you were here, I wondered if
there were a problem.”

She laughed nervously, realizing that she would have to confess as to her motive…
although, all he had to do was look at her laden arms and correctly guess. *Truth…
it’s always best to tell the truth,* she thought. “I’m afraid that the temptation of fresh
fruit got the best of me. It is a weakness of mine, you know”… *among other
things,* she thought to herself.

He joined her laughter. “Mine, too; so, I’ll confess also, that I used the security
check as an excuse to come down here to… um… sneak something… that no one
would miss. But, it seems that I have been *outsneaked*”, he mused, his eyes
dancing with the merriment of having caught her with the purloined basket. “With all
due respect, Captain, I’m afraid I must put you on report,” he continued
mischievously.

She had regained her composure. “Oh, Commander, I’m sure we could work
something out to prevent such a blemish on my record,” her eyes and lopsided
smile winked back at him. “What if I share my basket with you?”
“Hmmmm… now *that* sounds like a bribe!”

“It is — purely and blatantly. Is it accepted?”

“Well, let me see what you have in your basket, Little Red Riding Hood,” he
quipped, reaching for her cache.

She willingly gave him her treasure hoard and whispered to him conspiratorially,
“Why don’t we enjoy some of it right now? Wouldn’t that be wicked?”

“Captain, I do believe that you are leading me astray,” he laughed as she led them
to a table. Shadows were all around, as they sat down in the diminished night light.
The wide expanse of the windowed wall of the mess hall allowed the myriad of
stars outside to add their glow to the room around frivolous pair.
The good captain started searching through the contents of her basket.

“Look… grapes!” she said gleefully. “Big ones, too!” She popped one into her
mouth. “Ohhhh… these are *really* good; do try one, Chakotay.” She picked one off,
and tossed in into his opened mouth.

He bit into the full round piece; his eyes widened as the succulent fruit burst inside
his mouth. “Oh… they certainly are…” His eyes twinkled, as she could see that he
was thinking something more.

“All right… out with it,” she said warily.

“I have always wanted to have… someone… feed me… peeled grapes.”

She laughed, as she plucked another one off its stem. “All right, mister… but, just
this once. I don’t want this to become a habit.” Her thumbnail was scoring the thin
skin on the deep purple fruit. She pulled the outer covering off, and slowly raised it
to his waiting mouth. As her fingers honed in on their target, they both started
snickering. The sounds quickly escalated into rolling giggles, then became full,
hearty laughter. The laughter continued until tears were running down their cheeks.
After what seemed like several moments of unsuppressed
near-hysterics, she
pulled herself together.

“Well, do you want this or not?”

He reached for her hand that was holding the fruit, and raised it to his mouth. “Yes,”
he said, just before he guided her thumb and fingers gripping the grape to his open
lips. He grasped the grape with his lips, momentarily immobilizing her fingers
also. Almost imperceivably, his tongue barely touched their tips. She withdrew her
hand quickly, looking at him quite surprised, as he took pleasure in the treat he was
devouring. He swallowed the masticated pulp, and quickly licked his lips.
“Mmmmm… it has been a long time since I tasted anything that sweet. How about
you, Kathryn?”

She was momentarily caught off guard; his action had shocked her. She did not
know whether it was intentional or not… whichever it was, its effect had startled
her… in a way that was both uncomfortable and satisfying at the same time. *I am
letting the lateness of the hour and my imagination play games,* she thought. But,
being the scientist she was, she decided to do the experiment again, and plucked
yet another grape and started repeating the peeling routine.
He looked at her intensely, and said playfully, “I thought you said just once.”

She replied with a tease in her voice, “Oh, you have been so good lately, I thought
you deserved another.” Once more, she raised her hand to him, and he repeated
his previous action. Only this time, his tongue spent just a bit more time enjoying
her… and in circling his lips at the completion of his reward.
He reached towards the basket, and pulled out what appeared to be an orange, its
skin thick and dimpled. He raised its stem end to his mouth, and with his front
teeth, bit into the end, nipping off a sizable piece of the peel, exposing the
juice-filled interior. He gently squeezed the orange, rotating its body slowly as he
did so. He placed his mouth over the open end, and as he
compressed the round
fruit, he began to take in its juices, with
long, lingering sucks. He continued squeezing and rotating the fruit, expressing
deep satisfaction with the pleasure that the act produced.
His fingers continued molding and remolding the pliable fleshy form, until it looked
like an old fashioned balloon that had lost most of its air. He tilted his head back,
with his open mouth gaping at the ceiling and he raised the spent sphere a few
inches over his mouth. In one final effort, he urged the last few drops of juice out of
the jagged opening. The golden droplets entered his unobstructed orifice, and he
sighed contentedly. He laid the
deflated fruit beside the basket, and looked at her with a diabolical grin.

She met his look with a steady stare, accepting the challenge she read in his eyes.
She dipped her hand into the basket which was sitting between them on the table,
and pulled out a smaller, bite-sized round fruit… deep red, with a slender, eight
centimeter long stem
attached. She opened her mouth, and popped the entire structure inside. She
closed her lips tightly, appearing not to be chewing the fruit, only holding it in her
mouth. But he detected movement from inside. From the motions he observed on
her outer facial
structure, it was obvious that she was doing something with her teeth and tongue,
for there were occasional bulges in her cheeks or behind her lips. Yet, for the
duration of almost a minute, it did not seem that she was eating the delectable
tidbit; neither did
he notice the muscles of her throat constricting to indicate that she had swallowed
any of the contents.

Just as he was going to ask her what she was doing, her mouth opened, and from
behind her clenched teeth appeared the fully intact cherry-like fruit. Without using
either hand, she flicked the red ball into a tight grasp between her teeth. There was
a slight gap between the upper and lower levels of her teeth. She was still
maneuvering the fruit between her teeth, as if to settle it into a satisfactory position
for some reason. Suddenly,
the brownish stem popped out from between the two pearl white rows. She
continued moving this part towards the front. As it became fully visible, a wide
smile streaked across his face, creating the deep crevices of his dimples. For
there, in front of him, was a flawlessly formed square knot in the stem of the fruit…
tied to perfection… taunt and even.

He leaned towards her, and quickly grabbed the fleshy part of the protruding fruit
between his teeth. The sharp cutting edges of his incisors broke through its thin
skin, and he withdrew just as quickly as he had bitten into it. The dark crimson
juice burst forth, and
flowed over her lips and down onto her chin, staining her pale skin with its intense
color. She wiped away the juice with her fingers, removed the fruit and leisurely
licked her sticky
fingers of their harvest. She popped the fruit into her mouth, and proceeded to
savor its tender flesh, cleaning all of it off the inner seed. At the conclusion of her
feast, she delicately removed the solid pit, along with the knotted stem, and placed
them along side the peel shell which he had put on the table earlier.

Not to be outdone, he leaned over the basket, searching for another interesting…
toy. His hand reached in, and he pulled out a full, rounded fruit, beige in color, but
reminiscent of a
peach. The dense form almost filled his hand. He held it towards her, so that she
could observe its shape.

The convex surfaces of the fruit were covered with a fine down, and met in a deep
central fissure, which ran in a steep valley from its stem end to its terminal pip. The
cleft was formed by a gentle sloping of the two hemispheres, and extended inwards
towards the heart of the fruit for a good five millimeters.
He was holding the object in the palm of his right hand, and he raised his left hand
to more evenly distribute its weight. He spread his fingers, to better cradle the two
definitive halves. He shifted the bulk to his left hand, and, with his right, he tenderly
caressed the rounded surface of that side of the fruit. With his fingers, he tested the
softness of the ripe piece, and found it to be pliant to his touch. He continued his
sensitive probing of the supple pulp, careful not to bruise its tender flesh.

He completed his exploratory journey of the alluring curves of the fruit. His eyes
rose and looked at her, to measure her response. His smile became a satisfied
grin as he noticed that her eyes were intently focused on his movements, wide with
expectation. He brought his thumbs to the apex of the fissure, and inserted them
into the cleft. Using a firm but delicate pressure, he allowed his thumbs to run the
length of the deep indentation. He retraced his path, only to stop midway up the
piece of fruit. His pressure increased, as his thumbs dug deeply into the fleshy
object. Increasing this pressure, he pulled the two
halves apart, exposing a large mottled pit inside. He brought the piece which
contained the pit up to his ready mouth; he grasped the pit which clung to the
sensitive flesh between his teeth, and ripped it out. He leaned down, and put it on
the table; the two halves remained in his hands.

His right hand, holding its succulent treat, slowly rose to his lips. He lovingly licked
the exposed edges of the fruit, which were exuding but not dripping its liquid
content. He then eagerly took a large bite from the fruit, exhibiting his pleasure in its
taste and texture. He repeated the action with the other half, even more slowly…
seductively. He took the remaining gravid pieces and put them on the growing pile
on the table.

A long form was sticking out of the basket on her side. She eased it out from under
other selections which hid it. Not unlike a banana in shape and size, it had a thick,
taupe-colored skin. She held the fruit upright in her left hand, while encircling it at
the bottom with the thumb and fingers of her left hand. Slowly… deftly…
provocatively… she drew the tightly circled fingers up the length of the fruit. She
released her surrounding grasp, and
licked her fingers, thoroughly wetting their surfaces. Again, she stroked the long
smooth surface of the object which she held… its skin glistening with the trail of
moisture left behind.

Her fingers reached the apex of the fruit, which contained the hardened woody end
of its stem. She took her thumb, index and middle fingers, and grasped the tip
firmly. In one swift move, she twisted it, popping it off and freeing the top edge of
the plump peel. Without breaking her rhythm, she leaned into the fruit, taking a
piece of the outer skin between her teeth, and pulling down a portion of the
protective covering. She continued the act several times, until the firm, pink interior
of the fruit was completely exposed. The pulled-back petals of the peel hung over
her left hand, which held it.

Again, her red mouth went to the top. She opened it into an “O” that just encircled
the pillar of pulp. Her lips closed around it, and she delicately started taking the
elongated fruit into her mouth. Slowly… surely… silkenly… the shaft disappeared into
her oral cavity. As she took more and more of it in, she gently tilted her head back.
She continued her effort, managing to incorporate most of its length inside her
mouth and throat. She then pulled it out slowly… seductively… prolonging its
reappearance. At last, the entire fruit displayed itself, intact and glistening. She
uttered a sigh of contentment, then quickly… decisively… bit off the top of the fruit.
Her sighs increased as she savored the treat. She took another bite… and
another… until she had consumed it entirely. Only then did she look up at him. Her
expression was one of delight and conquest; his was of wonder… amazement… and admiration.

An oval red fruit, with streaks of brown and gold in its skin, beckoned to him. It
looked like a twin to the ancient pomegranate from the earliest Earth days along the
River Euphrates. He picked up the inviting object, weighing its shape in his hand.
He turned the fruit over several times, as if studying it for a hidden purpose. Raising
his other hand, he
enclosed the red wonder within his two hands. With his right thumbnail, he
produced a bruising score in its thin skin, down the entire length of the fruit. He
placed both thumbs in the center of the injured peel, and firmly inserting them into
the underlying flesh. The entry holes thus created gave him a firm hold into the
body of the fruit. Secure with his grip, he ripped the fruit apart, revealing an interior
filled with a quivering jellied, semi-liquid substance.

His eyes danced with delight, savoring the delectable matter. He placed one of the
opened halves on the table; the other remained secure in the broad palm of his left
hand. He curved two fingers of his now-free right hand, forming a scoop, and
dipped into the inner nectar of the fruit. He raised his laden fingers to his hungry
mouth, relishing the juicy treat and licking his lips so as not to loose any of its
goodness. He filled his self-made spoon once more, this time allowing some of
the thick liquid to drip through his fingers on its trip to his mouth. Again, he partook
of the succulent substance. His sticky fingers glowed with the stain from the juice…
his mouth glistened with the thick gelatinous coating it left behind. He persisted in
his actions until nothing but a boat of peel remained, covered with clinging, residual
flesh.

However, he wanted to savor every bit of this delicacy, too. He raised the seemingly
empty shell up to his mouth. With his tongue and teeth, he slowly but
enthusiastically licked and nipped at every bit of its inner surface. Over and over
again, he tirelessly licked and sucked at its contents, until the peel itself drooped
with exhaustion, well-spent beyond its purpose. Only when it could give no more,
did he place it in the area of repose for the remains of their repast.

One type of fruit remained in the basket, somewhat concealed by other pieces. She
slid her right hand into the inner area, and pulled out… a large, firm apple. She held
it out, between them, and then raised it to her awaiting mouth. A loud “crunch”
emitted as she took a substantial bite out of the piece of fruit. She chewed its crisp
pulp, her face showing that it was, indeed, a worthy treat.
She took the apple and reached across to him, giving him the piece of fruit. Her
eyes urged him to likewise savor its sweet flavor. He followed her example, and
also bit into it, removing a large chunk. He nodded in agreement with her silent
assessment of its merit. He continued eating it, as she arose. She picked up the
basket with its remaining contents and turned to go, looking over her shoulder at
him. She smiled at him… a playful…
sensual… promising… smile, and spoke as she exited the room.
“Tempting, isn’t it… Commander?”

**************** Thats my story, and Im sticking to it!
********************

Delta Story
cmwende@compuserve.com

TWILIGHT IN TUSCANY NC-17

Summary: Epilogue to “Scientific Method”. Tuvok joins Janeway in
Tuscany for that promised shared glass of wine — and more!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The slight woman sat at the al fresco table outside of the inn on

the outskirts of the town of Sienna. She gazed on the rich valley

below, aglow in the colors of harvest. The figures of the
workers in the field were barely visible; their far-off outlines
were clothed in the natural colors of the Tuscany peasants, which

camouflaged them among the browns and rusts and honeys of the
ripe crops. The air was warm with the fading sun, but the early
evening crispness was starting to settle in. She pulled a
tapestry shawl over her shoulders, shielding the bare skin
exposed by the deep neckline of her dress. The firmly laced
bodice forced her body into an upright position, while pushing
her straining breasts just above the top of the dress. She
sighed, wondering if he would indeed show up. But he was her
friend, and he had said that he would join her for a glass of
wine… and he never lied.

When she had seen him earlier that day, she reminded him of his
promise of a couple of days earlier. They had overcome the
plague of mutations rendered by the aliens, and now it was time
to sit back and relax for awhile. She had actually, finally
slept… two nights, each of ten hours of glorious sleep! She was

rested, but still… something was nagging at the back of her
mind. Was she completely rid of the effects of the horrendous
spikes in her temples that so recently had tortured her? Perhaps
there was some residual effect. Talking with him would help… it
always did.
Dear Tuvok! She had forgotten what a godsend he was to her…
and had been… for over nine years. Whether it was his Vulcan
reserve or the sign of a true friend, he always seemed to
rationalize whatever action she took… even though, again so
recently, he had commented that calling her “reckless” was an
understatement! A silent grin ran across her face as she thought

back on slipping into her “Action Kate” mode on the bridge… her

action that had jeopardized all of them once again… but, how,
once again, it seemed that the gods were with them.

She heard a muffled noise and a baritone voice say, just above a
whisper, “Captain? Are you here?”

“Yes,” she called out cheerfully. “Just follow the vine covered
archway; it leads to the inn.”

His face shortly appeared, framed by the now withering leaves on
the vine. Their greenish-gold complimented the dark tones of his

skin; the angles of his face brought focus to the soft roundness
of the curved opening.

“Captain,” he said.

She arose, and walked over to him, her arms outstretched towards
him. “Tuvok… my dear friend; you came!”

“Of course. I told you that I would join you. Why do you seem
incredulous?”

She reached down and grabbed his hands, leading him towards the
table, laughing. He was surprised by the physical contact, and
instinctively jerked his arms, recoiling from the sensation of
her touch. But, he then thought better of pulling his hands free,
and
allowed her to guide him.

“Yes, I knew that you would come,” she agreed, her words
twinkling with her delight. She led him to the small table where

she had been seated.

He seated himself in a chair across from her. Her heavy goblet
was almost empty; he noticed that the bottle of deep red wine on
the table was about half gone. Was this wine real? Was this the
reason for his captain’s jovial conduct? In resent days, he had
seen sides to her that he had never thought possible.

“Tuvok, you must taste some of this wine. It is from this very
valley, although the innkeeper has told me that this particular
bottle is over ten years old. I must say… it has aged
delightfully… just like you!” she chirped, as she filled the
empty drinking vessel in front of him, and then quickly refilled
hers.

His left eyebrow raised, as if questioning both her mood and
whether he should trust the beverage, if, as it seemed, it was
*not* synthehol.

“Captain, I do believe that the wine is affecting your actions.”

“Nonsense! I’m merely relaxing after a very trying past few
weeks. And, my friend, you *did* promise to join me for a glass
of wine. Besides,” her eyes were sparkling again as she
continued, “I want to ask you more about this… reckless
behavior you accused me of exhibiting.”

“I am sure it was due to your extremely stressed condition at the

time, Captain. Many of the crew were demonstrating a high level
of aberrant behavior. In following through with your order to
speak to all department leaders regarding…” he paused
momentarily, searching for the correct word, “regarding… lax
and unprofessional conduct, I can assure you that much of what
had occurred was due to the actions of our alien visitors. I
myself may have even been under their regulation; Seven never
told me whether or not she had seen them manipulating me in any
manner.”

“Tuvok, I was out of line when I reprimanded you for not
performing your duties. You must know that… now.” Her voice
expressed a contriteness that he had seldom heard. He knew that
it was difficult for her to admit the error of her actions.
“But… here’s to… today and now.” She raised her glass; her
eyes bid him to do likewise. “And here’s to friends who remain
firm and strong over the years.”

Their glasses touched with a solid greeting sound. No weak “clink”
sounded from these glasses, but instead, a hearty bear-hug of a
noise resounded. She quickly raised her goblet and took in a large
mouthful of the deep ruby liquid, seeming to savor its flavor and
texture. He more tentatively sipped at his drink; suddenly
realizing how good it was, he, too, took a very un-Vulcanlike
amount into his mouth.

“You are correct, Captain. This is an excellent vintage,” he
said as he finished swallowing the wine. “As you know, we do not

produce much wine on Vulcan, so I tend to appreciate it on the
rare times that I do partake.”

Janeway leaned back. Her shawl slipped off, and haphazardly draped
itself over the low back of the chair. She was examining her
Vulcan friend, who, in turn, was studying the wine in his cup, and
then the bottle. He, too, had come to the holodeck program in
civilian garb. He had opted for one of his long Vulcan robes. It
was a heather grey, with designs of a deep purple swirling around
the cuffs of its long sleeves. His feet were shod with heavy
sandals. He looked… different. Almost… relaxed; almost…
expressing emotion in his eyes.

His eyes rose from his glass; he looked over at her. Just as her

thoughts were thinking about how different he looked in this time

and place, his eyebrows again raised in amazement as he looked at

his captain in a way that he had never noticed before. With the
shawl having fallen from her shoulders, he gazed at her in the
tight bodice, with a voluptuousness that he had never imagined in
her small body. She caught the thought behind his stoic eyes, and
smiled silently at herself, knowing that this sight was causing him
some discomfort.

Suddenly, she thought to herself… *he wants to touch me; why,
Tuvok, you are more human than you think…* A wicked idea came
into her head; she started to speak.

“Tuvok, do you really think that I am a reckless person, as you
stated on the bridge before we entered the binary pulsar?” Her
voice was teasing in its inquiry.

“You were doing what you deemed necessary at the time. Although
I would have preferred a more… rational approach to negotiating

with the aliens… you *are* the commanding officer. Over the
years that I have known you, one of the things I have most
admired has been your realization that emotion was not the
primary driving force in making decisions. Yet, I understand, that

in this particular predicament in which we find ourselves that
reason is not always the best…”

His words were cut short by her laughter. “Oh, Tuvok; even now
you are analyzing everything. We…” she looked at him and
winked,”…we are on vacation. Here… have some more wine.”
She drained the remains of the contents of the bottle into his
empty glass. Just as she put the exhausted container on the
table, a dark young man came by, whisked it away, and placed
another opened bottle beside her.

He once more eagerly drank from his goblet. *I really should not
be doing this. My head tells me that I am not conditioned to
imbibe in such a manner.* But the nectar-like taste was
summoning forth a sensation that he had not known for many years.

Although he was hard-pressed to allow such a feeling… he
felt… euphoric. It was difficult to remain adherent to
his discipline constantly. Why, he realized that he had even
made several flippant remarks to the Captain over the past few
days… yes, something *had* to be done about discipline,
starting with himself…

His reverie was interrupted by the feel of her fingertips
touching his. His right hand was resting flat on the table,
covering the broad base of his goblet stem. She had moved her
wine glass and hand, in its similar position, over towards his,
and her fingertips were now touching his… now, covering his…

“Captain,” his voice uttered huskily… tentatively.

“Tuvok, when we are not with the others, call me Kathryn. You
have known me for nine years… we have worked together…
closely… over much of that time… please, *Kathryn*.”

He looked into her eyes and tried to disguise the swallow. “All
right… Kathryn.”

Her fingers were locking with his, moving them away from the wine

glass. She noted that his comfort level was rapidly dissolving.

Her fingers caressed his, moving in a slow, sensual encircling
motion.

His breathing was becoming more labored. He looked up at her, a
glimpse of panic in his eyes.

“Cap… Kathryn, what are you doing?”

“I’m trying to get you to relax for awhile,” she said coyly, with

a counterfeit innocence.

His discomfort was becoming more obvious, but he made no motion
to disengage their hands. She now had maneuvered their two
adjoining hands into an upright, tent-like position. Her left
hand sought his right, and the pose was repeated. She then took
her hands and using her fingers, once more circled his closed
upright ones. She moved them back and forth, around and over,
with a most gentle touch. His eyes closed and he now was
uttering short little gasps. Just when she thought he was
oblivious to her, his eyes opened, as wide as she had ever seen
them. He swallowed.

“Kath…ryn… are you… trying… to… seduce me?”

Her look never wavered; her stroking kept its rhythm. “Do you
want me to seduce you?” she barely whispered in her throaty
voice.

“That would… not be… proper,” he uttered.

“So much is different here, Tuvok. You yourself have said that.”

“But… we are friends. I should not allow myself to think of
you as anything but… my captain and… my friend.”

“And it has been so long since either of us has been allowed…
to express ourselves… intimately. Tuvok, who better to permit
a release for… our needs? Besides, no one will know. We will
be following the very guidelines that I have laid down for Tom
and B’Elanna. This is not a public display… it’s just…
comfort and solace… between two dear friends.” She tenderly
released his hands, and placed them on the table. “I know that
as a Vulcan, pon farr is your time for mating. But… this is not

mating… and, there is a time and place in Vulcan life… for
intimate sharing… other than for the purpose of… mating.”

She once more covered his long fingers with hers. “And we *will*

be discreet. With you, how could it be anything other?”

His eyes raised from pondering of their touching hands.

“Yes, you are correct in the fact that we Vulcans do experience
times… of… need. Although there is not the complete
capitulation to the baser emotions as in pon farr, we do… derive
some… pleasure…
from… intimate… experiences.”

She continued with her… logical… explanation. “We are both
far from those whom we hold dear. I am not saying that we should

forget them, nor do I think we would dishonor them. We are
merely…” her voice fumbled for non-offensive words,
“…performing… motions… to keep us sane.”

“Ca… Kathryn, what you are proposing is not truly… right, but

it does seem to have some logic to it. And, although I do not
readily… express it, I have never been… totally immune… to
your… handsome beauty… and the finely tuned… rhythm… of
your body.”

She lifted his fingers to her lips and kissed each one… slowly,

sensually, allowing her mouth to open slightly, adding her
wine-rich moistness to their surfaces. As she completed her
self-appointed assignment, he switched the positions of their
hands and continued the motion with her fingers. His full lips
seemed to engulf her fingers; his tongue was flicking across
their tips. The roles were suddenly reversed; the seducer was
now the seduced. A chill ran through her body, as she released
that they were on the brink of a moment that could… would…
change their relationship forever. But… he was the one person
she knew that she could trust.

She pulled herself upright, breaking both their concentrations.
With a husky voice, she said, “Computer… privacy lock.” She
looked at him. His ebony eyes were reflecting her lighter ones.
“I have the holodeck for the entire day… doctor’s orders. But,
we don’t want… any visitors… do we?”

He rose, never letting go of her hands, and pulled her up. In
her flat leathers slippers, she barely reached his shoulder.
“No, we do not. Do you have a room at this inn?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. It has a broad window across the
back, where we can watch the sun sink behind the mountain.” She
pulled her right hand away from his, and linked her arm through
his. “Would you like to watch the sun set with me?”

“Yes, I would,” he said, his sonorous voice as velvet as the
approaching shadows.

They walked through the doorway into the inn. The air was heavy
with the aromas of the bubbling hunters’ stew on the hearth and
the bread which had just been removed from the brick oven. The
two traversers seemed unaware of the tempting prelude to the
evening meal, as they glided to the wooden staircase at the back
of the large common room. She led him, once more cradling his
exquisite hand in hers. At the top of the steps, she picked up a

large candlestick from among several lined up on a low chest,
awaiting similar fates from others residing at the inn. She lit
it from the tall glowing taper at the end of the chest, and
continued her trip to the room at the far end of the hall.

They stopped at the closed door, their eyes each asking the same
silent question: should we? His free hand went to the latch…
the lone object signifying their decision. With one swift motion,
he lifted the latch and broached the barrier… the door opened to
the new level of their relationship.

The low rays of the rapidly disappearing sun washed the room with

its luxurious color. Even the dark wood of the massive furniture

seemed to glow with a golden radiance. A small fireplace
glistened with the light of its freshly laid kindle. Shadows
played off of the walls… the ceiling… their faces.

He took her face between his thin, graceful hands. “Kathryn… I

do not know… how you… how we… want to… do this.”

Her expression echoed the slight embarrassment of his. “Nor I…
know what… is… right… for you.” Her slight smile contrasted
the seriousness of his appearance. “We will just have to… teach
each other… as we… go along.”

She once more took his hands in hers, gently caressing the backs
of his hands with her thumbs. He tentatively lowered his face to
hers, unsure of his actions; but she, with no hesitancy, fixed
her lips upon his uncertain ones. Suddenly, he was no longer
doubtful. His ample mouth consumed her delicate one. Vulcan
warmth flooded her as she opened her lips to his eagerness. The
residual sweetness of the wine overwhelmed her senses. Her hands

dropped his, as each of them became more attuned to the other’s
rising desires. His face remained unmoved in its expression, but

his hands… his wonderful hands… were declaring his hidden
feelings. Vulcan passion ran deep, but was ferociously strong.

His hands found the laces which tightly bound her bodice. His
long slender fingers released the tension of the closure with the

same sure effort of his technical expertise. He tore away the
constricting band of fabric, allowing her full blouse to billow
from her skirt. He quickly reached behind her and found the
single button which closed her skirt. It, too, suffered the fate

of the bodice, as it fell away from her waist. Now, the long,
flowing blouse of thin linen skimmed and silouetted her fair body

underneath. He pulled the low neckline down over her shoulders,
massaging the skin as it bared itself to him. She raised her
chin and leaned back. He sensed her want, and bent down to nuzzle

her exposed neck. His long, firm tongue stroked the fine down on

her skin, and she let out a low sigh. His hands continued their
journey of easing the blouse off her shoulders… down her
arms… allowing it to fall to the burnished tile floor under
them.

Kathryn reached up to the ties that held together his robe. She
loosened the laces and repeated his action of easing the garment
slowly down his torso. His coarser garment joined hers in a
prelude of what was to come. Only then did they step back to see

each other as they had never seen themselves before.

The well-toned body of Kathryn Janeway, descrete portions of which
the crew of Voyager had had glimpses on occasion, now displayed
itself completely to her long-time friend. His eyes methodically
scanned her
torso, and a look of satisfaction briefly surfaced on his otherwise
expressionless
face. She was a beautiful woman; he had always known this fact.
But, even his well-controlled emotions could not help but admire…

desire… the mature voluptuous form in front of him. Her
uniform hid well the full, pendulant breasts… the defined waist

above a stomach that was not quite flat, but rounded just enough
by which a man could be cushioned. Her hips flared with just the

correct angle back into curved buttocks waiting to be cupped and
held firm. A patch of soft brown hair capped the center space at
the top of her legs… legs which appeared longer now, out of the

confines of her jumpsuit. *An admirable sight, indeed…* he
thought with a satisfaction that was rapidly turning into need.

The picture that greeted her eyes was both a revelation and a
comfort. He certainly did not look like he was ninety-plus years

old,; far from it. His tall, slender frame was a model of a
disciplined male body— firm, taunt, but not overly muscular.
His mahoghony skin glowed with health… and want. The Vulcan
external anatomy was as human as she had ever seen, and she
delighted in that fact. His arms were relaxed at his sides. His
forearms were quite defined; his shoulders, though well developed,
were not overly so. His legs, however, were topped with muscular
thighs that almost seemed out of place with the rest of his
physique. Her eyes could not help but be drawn to another part of
his anatomy that matched the span of the rest of his body… long,
firm, and disciplined under his willed constraint.

Their arms once more began a joyous exploration. Hers gently
stoked the length of his ears; his, the smooth ivory of the
delicate flesh of her underarms, as she reached up. Their mutual

responses increased from soft sighs to deeper, more guttural
sounds. Once more, their lips sought those of the other, now as
thirsty for each other as they had been the wine earlier… seeking
comfort in the known… anticipating the thrill of the unknown…
willing and wanting to explore each other. The increased heat of
his Vulcan body rapidly encompassed hers; her body became sheened
with a glow of the warmth radiating from his.

Locked in their embrace, he led them to the rounded chair several

feet away. He sank into it, pulling her down on top of him. She

straddled his thighs, with his swelling insistence rising quickly

to pummel through to her now-wet opening. She raised herself,
allowing him entrance, and then slowly lowered herself on his now
fully erect member. She welcomed him as a beloved friend, clasping
him in her grasp; tightening her internal embrace of him with a
ready reception. He spread his legs, pulling her legs further
apart with them and allowing him to more completely enter into her.

Warm… hot… he was like a heated rod inside her… but
comforting, not unpleasant. Firm… long… and insistent in its
goal. His arms reached around her waist, supporting her lower
back; her hands found a secure anchor atop his shoulders.

She leaned back, readjusting the angle and touch they shared. The
new sensation brought forth a soft moan from her. Sensing her
need, he rocked them together in a slow up and down motion. Her
response was almost immediate; she felt her muscles starting to
tighten, even as she detected her wetness rising. He continued his
slow movement, never allowing her the luxury of a rapid climax. Up
and down… back and forth… raising her, raising himself…
moving her body to yet more angled positions. When he sensed she
was reaching an insurmountable peak, he arose, still with her
deeply seated on him. She wrapped her legs around his waist. He
surely, stealthily walked backwards, until his back was braced
against the stone wall of the room. He continued his support and
movement of her tensed body, exposing her to possibilities that she
had never before experienced. Finally, with a very warm gush, she
could no longer hold herself back. She leaned back with a cry, and
her liberation from all the tension of the weeks… months… found
release. She fell against his chest, whimpering a small cry of
gratitude.

He lifted her off of his still rigid member, and carried her over
to the bed, placing her on top of its thick comforter. She opened
her eyes as she felt her prone position, and looked up at him. He
was standing beside her, still with his expressionless face peering
at her. She allowed herself to move her eyes down his body, which
now was also shining with wetness from his exertion. He still stood
at full attention, ready yet again for his duty. She raised
herself on one elbow and with her other hand reached out to him,
urging him to sit on the bed beside her. He made no move to
proceed with any calming, sensitive afterplay. She once more
started caressing his fingers; he responded by returning the
deliberate, sensual movements with his hand…closing his eyes,
lost in an unknown realm of Vulcan delight.

Abruptly, his hand grasped hers, breaking the seductive stroking.

He assumed a standing position beside the bed. Her eyes looked up
at him, silently questioning him. Unspeaking, he released her hand
and reached down to her hips. He firmly grasped them, and swung
her body around, with her legs suddenly without support, but
dangling over the edge of the high bed. Without a word, he stepped
inbetween her legs, forcing them apart with his muscular thighs.
His hands gently but firmly gripped the outward curves of her hips,
as he stepped towards her. Once more, he found her welcoming
opening, and implanted himself in her. He continued his forward
movement with deliberate precision and purpose. As he finally
found the limit of her enveloping passage, he pulled back. With a
seemingly calculated exactness, he again began his sensual assault.

Slowly, with a studied awareness of what she wanted… needed…
his motions began anew. Her delicate tissues were still
reverberating from the first experience; their heightened
receptiveness grasped him tighter than before. The increased
sensation and friction brought the first sound she heard from him:
a soft “mmmm…” sound. His movements increased in their force and
speed… much more insistent than their first coupling. But, she
still felt herself outpacing him, and tried to hold back from the
tell-tale gush of her fulfillment. She found herself raising her
body to meet his thrusts, willing him to find the blessed release
that he had offered her. Her actions were to no avail; she became
lost again in his talented maneuvers.

With calculated expertise, he pulled out of her and backed away
when he heard her simultaneous cry and felt her internal climax.
As he withdrew, her rich moistness flooded the nest of hair and
started a downward journey on her legs. He reached down with his
gifted fingers and wiped the warm, thick liquid… massaging it
into her thighs and rubbing it over his fingers. He reached up to
her face, and languorously ran his now-wet fingers across her
nose… her mouth… She grabbed his assaulting hand, and quickly
took his fingers into her mouth. She lingeringly licked and sucked
them. The action solicited yet another slight moan from him; but
his face remained expressionless.

She completed her love feast, and opened her eyes to see him
staring at her… was there desire… want… what?… still in his
eyes. She saw that he remained erect and prepared. When would he
succumb to the needs she knew *he* must also feel? The question in
her thoughts was once more pushed aside, as he again was reaching
for her body… to position it yet anew. She wanted to satisfy him
as much as he had now accomplished with her. He had not allowed her
to descend from her peaks; it was as if he wanted to push her
further and further… what was coming now?

He rolled her over onto her stomach, but still on the edge of the
bed. He urged her to pull her legs up underneath her body, raising
her curved buttocks to face him. He remained in his standing
position beside the bed. His sure hands fondled her rounded flesh,

his thumbs stroking the central area separating them. He moved his
thumbs down, making more accessible her swollen, moist labia. He

gently stroked them, causing an involuntary response from her. Her
moan urged him to continue his motions. She was becoming lost in
the sensations… flooded with the feel of the stimulus and her
swirling mind. In her sated daze, she felt a coolness as he pulled
her lips to the sides… and warmth as his body once more
approached her. She somehow knew what was coming… but yet, her
body recoiled with surprise when he once more entered her. The
angle was deep… probing… invasive. His thrust was knowing and
sure… he knew now just how far he could go… to give her
pleasure without perverted pain. Again and again he thrust…
building the intensity to a crescendo level… allowing her to let
out the primal screams that were necessary. Over and over… she
thought that she had peaked, only to find him again urging her
on… again and again. She wanted to move, but he held her firm;
she wanted to pull away, but begged him for more. His efforts were
eliciting rapid breathing; he was panting now with the efforts.
Finally, with one last plunge, he allowed himself to reach past her
allowed depths. Her cry of the unexpected ravishment brought both
of them to a conclusion. His release finally came, and he quickly
withdrew and joined her on the bed. They slowly but necessarily
moved themselves into positions that allowed their now spent bodies
to lie in repose.

Vulcans do not cuddle. But, he reached for her hand beside him. He
began caressing her fingers, encircling them with his, stroking
their lengths, entwining them. They both drifted off into a
satisfied sleep, warmed by the fireplace which now blazed… and
the heat of their actions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Weak pinkish-yellow rays of an early morning sun awakened Kathryn
Janeway. She had programmed the computer to awake her this way, to
allow her time to return to her quarters long before the rest of
the ship awoke to begin the new day. She never, in her wildest
imagination, thought that she would awake to find Tuvok asleep
beside her. Sometime during the night, they had managed to get
underneath the covers… the fire in the fireplace had long since
faded. What would he think of their actions? She smiled to
herself, looking at his sleeping form. *Will he respect me in the
morning?* she thought. She realized that his eyes were opening,
and looking straight into hers.

Without a single sign of regret, he looked at her. “Good morning,
Captain. I trust that you slept well.”

“I haven’t had such a restful sleep in a long time, Tuvok.”

“I am happy for you. And, I am content to know that we have served
each others… needs. For that, I thank you, also, Cap… Kathryn.

We both should be able to function more efficiently now.”

“Tuvok, do you have any…”

“Captain, we have performed… therapeutic activities for each
other. That is all. My job is to do whatever you, as my commanding
officer, require of me. That I also received… satisfaction…
from doing what you expected… and needed… is an additional
benefit. Now, I would suggest that we return to our duties,
refreshed and recreated. Indeed, I am… content… that you
allowed me to join you… for the wine, and to share this…
pleasing location.”

She smiled at him, and one last time took his hand in hers, before
they faced the tedium of their posts again. “Tuvok, I respect your
sense of duty; but I also thank you… for being my friend, and
understanding me.” She leaned over to him, and once more tasted
and felt his warm, full lips. They both lingered with the final
touch, savoring its conclusion.

She arose and picked up their garments from the floor and handed
him his robe. Their silent gazes to each other told them that this
would be the only place any of this would be known. But…
forever, they would have Tuscany.

*********** Was it as good for you as it was for me? ************

Delta Story
cmwende@compuserve.com

GHOSTS NC-17

Summary: A flight of fancy into the fantasy of past and future — and Janeway and Chakotay, of
course!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ominous clouds quickly rolled in, punctuating the disappearing sunlight with exclamation points
of thunder. The Florentine skyline was illuminated with dots and dashes of lightening
broadcasting throughout the rolling skies. The Maestro walked from the windows to the small
woman, engrossed in her work and shook his head.

“Katarina, you must light some candles. If you do not, your eyes will become as poor as mine,” a
smiling da Vinci said to her in a soto voice.

Kathryn Janeway had become so absorbed in her sculpting that she was oblivious to the quickly
fading light and onerous sounds of the looming storm outside. “Oh, my… I had not realized how
late it had become,” she stated, looking up at him. “I have once again taken up too much of your
time.” She started cleaning her hands and preparing to save her project.

The older man chuckled softly. “The pleasure, as always, has been mine, my dear Katarina. I so
enjoy your visits. Your intelligence and beauty are a rare joy for an old man. And… you *do*
show some promise as an artist,” he stated as he reached over and quickly remolded a spot on the
figure she was
fashioning. “Another…oh… fifty-some years, and you should be able to show your pieces.” Their
mutual laughter rang through the studio at his realistic appraisal of her work.

“I think I enjoy our conversations as much as the lessons,” she said, looking at him with
reverence in her eyes. “It is so good to be able to talk with someone about ideas… and things…
other than my work. You do not know how important these times are to me.”

He leaned over and patted her cheek. “Ah, my little one. Do not tell me that you have no other
person to whom you can turn when your need is thus. A woman such as you certainly must have
friends… family… lovers.”

Kathryn lowered her head and blushed at his much too intimate comment. “My family is far
away. And, friends — yes; but, because of my position, I must remain… apart from them, and…”
“Lovers?” he repeated, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye and on his lips.

Her face became more crimson. Her voice wavered as she finally said, “No lovers. Again,
because of my position…”

“Ah, but in order to be an artist, lovely Katarina, one must have… passion… desire! Perhaps that
is what your art
requires. Have you ever considered the import of such emotion? What… or who… inspires you
the most? Let your passions drive your art… do not concern yourself with precision and
controlled outcomes… let your heart be your voice.”

Kathryn gazed deeply in her tutor’s eyes. In them, she saw no end to the fathomless explorations
that his mind was willing to take… the risks, the… unknown. Just as he was lighting the candles
to illuminate the room around them, so was he attempting to enlighten her. It had been *so*
long since she had allowed anything like emotion or passion to surface in her life.
Control… discipline… that was what was needed for a Starfleet captain. Yet… within her, the
suppressed artist reached out to be born; the very soul of her cried out in the birth pangs. *I am
the Starfleet officer; Phoebe is the artist,* she thought, in remembering fondly her sister’s
uninhibited love of life. *I have always been the one in control… striving for… what? My
father’s acceptance? One more level of success in the hierarchy of Starfleet? And why?* She
looked at her friend and teacher, attempting to understand his unshaken interest in her.

“Katarina, you are very intense about your work. Such a person harbors equally intense feelings.
Certainly at some time in your life there was something that stirred your imagination… your
heart. Think back… what first possessed you in life? What first called to you… mesmerized
you… gave you a glimpse into a realm outside of yourself?”

The woman looked at him, a questioning expression on her face, as she obviously was trying to
recall… a first image… the first time she *felt* as well as heard a voice… a soul. Her eyes
closed, as if creating her private reverie. And then… there it was… the oak tree! Yes; that was
it… when she was ten years old…

The tree stood only about fifteen feet from her house in Indiana.
It was magnificent… over seventy feet tall, it towered over their two story home. Too tall to
climb, but with outstretched arms that always beckoned, it stood as a symbol of decades…
centuries… of endurance: surviving subzero winters, summer storms, and yet providing shelter
and sustenance to a myriad of life… and a comfort to her. At one time, when she was home on
leave during her Academy days, she had even written the lone poetic composition of her life
under its leaf-laden arms. Perhaps it was her Irish ancestry, but she could have almost sworn that
the words came to her from that tree…

Her holographic mentor observed her inward journey. His action froze as her thoughts recreated
secret images from long
sequestered dreams. *Ah, yes… search yourself, my dear… look for your muse.* A smile as
enigmatic as his Mona Lisa’s softened his creased face.

Her smile matched his, as she slowly opened her eyes and she responded to him. “Would you
believe that my ‘first love’, as would call it, was a tree?”

He softy laughed. “Hmmm… an immoveable object! But, it must have had some life in order to
inspire such a… revelation”
Her words appeared to come from a distance, as if she were reaching back through dreams and
time. “The tree seemed to have so many stories that it wanted to tell,” she said, almost
reverently.

“Perhaps it did. Did you ever truly stop… to listen to it?”
“I imagined that sometimes it *was* trying to tell me…
something. Like a person who was hundreds of years old…” Her glance at her holodeck host
brought a silent laugh to her, as she realized that it could have been him that she just described.
It was the bearded man who was now overcome with thought.
“Katarina… you have told me of your family… that you are from the island of the ancient Irish.
Our very own Caesar called Julius was there once, and told tales of a mystical folk who…
believed that such trees as these oak trees… were of a holy forbearance. Even our revered
historian, Pliny, spoke of the awe that the mighty oak had for the Celtic folk of yore.” He
paused, thinking deeply. “I believe I have one of their archaic texts. Let me get it for you;
perhaps you will find it of value in your quest for artistic inspiration.”

He slowly got up from the chair in which he had been sitting. Kathryn watched as he climbed the
steps to the wall of books within the studio. The candlelight cast floating shadows over the
outlines of the tomes, and as the old gentleman gently blew dust off of the shelves, with the dust
itself taking on the appearance of raindrops glistening with reflected rainbows. Suddenly, he
said, “Ah, ha! Here it is! ‘The Book of
Ballymote’… it is based on a pagan practice of tree worship… a little antiquated now, but
interesting from historic and artistic viewpoints.”

He descended the stairs with difficulty. “Ohhh. This wretched weather is not for my old bones.
My dear, I give you the text. Stay as long as you wish. As for me, it is off to bed with a pan of
hot stones to fend off the ague. Good night, my little one.” He gently kissed her on the forehead
and slowly, painfully shuffled off to his chambers.

The storm continued in its plunderage outside of the massive room. But the candles were warm
and comforting, as well as providing their welcoming light. Kathryn took one of the large tapers
over to the slanted top of the desk of her teacher. Carefully setting aside the abundance of papers
and plans that were scattered all over the work surface, she settled herself onto the stool and
looked at the venerable text. The book itself was large — about 20 by 30 centimeters. It was an
additional five centimeters thick. Centuries of dust was entrapped within the heavily tooled
leather cover, which was blackened with age and soot. Elaborate designs swirled over the
exterior, entwined among each other, forming knots with no beginning or end. Like massive
roots beneath the ground’s surface, they tangled together for support and to sustain life.
Suddenly, letters appeared among the obscuring patterns… “Ballymote”. She felt compelled to
caress the hard veneer; a strange sensation arose in her fingertips… tingling… a surge of…
energy.

She slowly opened the book. Its yellowed parchment pages at first glance seemed brittle, but as
she turned the frontpiece, she sensed strength — almost vitality — in the leaf. The printed words
were from antiquity, in a stilted form of mixed English and Celtic dialects. There was a
primitive list of its contents, over which she skimmed… and the words seemed to jump off the
page, locking onto her eyes and calling to her: Duir Dair Derwen — The King of Trees – The
Oak. Yes — that was what she wanted; to learn more about *her* tree. She quickly turned the
pages to the entry.

The first lines described the tree as having “magickal strength; the doorway to inner knowledge;
the ability to see the invisible or be invisible; the ability to bar or open the ways.” *Magical
strength, indeed!* she chuckled to herself. *It’s only a tree…*
She read further, about the scholars and astronomers of old… the druidhen… the druids… the
“knowers of oak trees”. Images of the figures began to form in her mind… a smoky odor seemed
to penetrate her nasal passages… her ears were attuned to a lilting tune being played on a lone
harp… which then was joined by the melancholy air of a lute. Sharper notes from a whistle
completed a trio now. The air felt brisk; a light wind was caressing her skin and ever so slightly
blowing her hair… to her side, just out of eyesight, she could sense a warm glowing light… and
heard the crackle of an open wood fire. She looked up… and she was no longer in da Vinci’s
studio in holodeck two, but… in a clearing just outside a large wooded area atop a small hill…
on… Earth?

It was a moonless night. The brightly blazing fire all but extinguished the twinkling heavenly
lights that were present, but she could make out familiar Earth sky constellations: there were
Cassiopeia and her king, Cepheus directly overhead; Pegasus with its brilliant stars, Sceat,
Markab and Algenib, was flying through the sky with Perseus the hunter in pursuit. She sighed
deeply… had she reactivated a program about Indiana? Or was she just dreaming about her
conversation earlier… about her oak tree…?

Yes… that must be it. For there, in the background of the fire, standing by itself several meters
in front of the copse of trees, was… *her* oak tree. Or, at least, one very much like the one of
her memories. Standing majestically, its limbs, which were devoid of most of its leaves, created
webbed like patterns reflected in the fire’s flames onto the cold night sky. It was cold, she
realized suddenly. Her arms instinctively pulled tighter around her… a cloak, a heavy gray
woolen cloak! How did *that* get here? She was no longer at the desk… the book was gone.
Her eyes started focusing on the area around her… she was looking for the source of the music…
and now, voices… chanting voices… were joining the background melody.

She started to walk towards the fire, and again became cognizant of clothing other than her
Starfleet uniform. She reached out of the warming confines of the cloak to examine it more
closely. The weight of a hood was hanging down her back, and the cloak had a heavy, ornate
metal clasp at its neck, holding it in place. She reached up to touch it, and identified engraving
or carving on it, in an intricate pattern… she tried to follow its
lines… and it “felt” similar to the labyrinthine design on the cover of the Ballymote book.
Opening the front of the cloak, she saw that she wore a long robe of deepest midnight blue… at
least, she thought it was blue… which seemed to be luminescent in the reflected light. Around
her waist a thin leather belt was slung low over her hips, with long tails trailing from a knot that
rested on her flat stomach. She sensed that the tails were weighted in some way, and raised
them closer to examine them: woven into each end was a small faceted stone… one appeared to
be blood red and the other a milky white. She let the ends fall as she heard the voices getting
closer. The winds had picked up now, and her thick hair was veiling her face, its free-flowing
lengths swirling around her shoulders and head.

A group of about twenty cloaked people exited the wooded area. They were led by a tall, thin
figure, whose baritone voice was leading them in chanting. She was still in the shadows, and
presumed that she was hidden from their view. She examined the figures in the group, as they
took their places around the fire. Their music had ceased, as the chanting became the focal point
of the gathering. The hooded leader had reached out with a long staff in his hand. He started
walking in a broad circle around the fire, using the staff as a marking device and inscribing the
circular pattern around the blazing center. Around and around he walked, his cadence sure and
firm. No sound was heard except the mesmerizing rhythm of his spellbinding voice… he slowly
incanted:

“Oak logs will warm you well,
That are old and dry.
Logs of pine will sweetly smell
But the sparks will quickly fly.

Birch logs will burn too fast,
Chestnut scarce at all;
Hawthorn logs are good to last —
Cut them down in the fall.

Holly logs will burn like wax,
You may burn them green;
Elm logs like smoldering flax,
No flame is born to be seen.

Beech logs for winter time,
Yew logs as well;
Green alder logs it is a sin
For any person to sell.

Ash logs, smooth and gray,
Burn them green or old…
Keep all that wood comes your way
For their worth is like unto gold.”

He completed the circle, and stepped outside of it. He raised his hands,
as if in supplication, and continued, “I welcome all to the cosa’n de fe’ile… the way of ritual… on
this night of
remembrance… Samhain. The sacred grove is purified, and awaits to greet our blessed spirits.
All are welcome and invited to join as we celebrate the season of waiting… the beginning of our
new year. Just as our brother and sister trees of the sacred grove begin their regrowth, so do we
and all who have departed into the Otherworlds before us. Tenm laida!”

The group surrounding him started chanting the words… “tenm laida; tenm laida! Welcome,
spirit visitors! We greet you with gifts and offerings… tenm laida; tenm laida…” They started
following their priest-leader, their ever circling swaying motions blending and becoming one
with the pulsation of the dancing flames. She watched with fascination, absorbing the grace and
agility of the tall dark figure. He pulled apart from the gamboling gathering and walked over to
the oak tree. His eyes began searching, knowing that they would find her. When they found her
in the darkness beyond, they locked onto her eyes… *into* her eyes… holding her as tightly as
any vise. She could not look away. Those eyes… that voice… Tuvok… it was Tuvok! He slowly
lowered the cowl-like hood, his gaze ever drawing her towards him… towards the circle.

She walked hesitatingly towards him, compelled and pulled by his steadfast stare. As she
approached the circle, the motion of the participants gradually stopped, until all was silent once
more. The dark priest stated firmly but with a welcoming tone, “It is not right to be alone on a
night such as this; you must not expose your spirit to the perils of the Otherworld. Come, greet
the visiting spirits with the company of others. You are welcome for this festival. The great
shield of Skathach is about to be lowered, so that we may commune with our departed. Join us
as we honor our departed friends with the great feast of Fleadh nan Mairbh.”

She was now in the blazing light from the fire. Her auburn tresses glistened with deep red
highlights; her skin radiated in the golden light. The assembled folk gasped and their faces froze
in awe as they fully saw her for the first time. The tall monastic figure reached out to take her
now outstretched hands. The surrounding voices started murmuring soft whispers, but quickly
increased in their intensity, “Danu, mo bandia… it is the Mistress of the Grove, Mother of the
Rivers! It is she who embraces and guides our leavings from this world to the
Otherworld… it is Lady Caitlin! Master Thovaihn, it is the Lady!”

The thin priest nodded his solemn head. “Aye, good folk, it is who she seems to be… the spirits
have brought her to us to guide them to their rest in the Otherworld. Let us honor her with our
hospitality.” He led her to a large, flat rock and covered it with a fur throw. Reverently, he
helped her to be seated. Only then did he turn to attend other duties.

“Neslrum… how does the caldron?” he asked, turning to reveal a smallish gnome-like man
hunched over a large steaming kettle, almost as big as him, hidden on the far side of the fire. Its
steam was just now starting to billow above the cavorting flames.

“Master, it is almost time to share. It only lacks your final blessing,” replied the other man.
Kathryn/Caitlan recognized that voice also… she allowed her eyes to focus on the
diminutive figure… yes, his face was framed with a familiar orangish fur-like hair; her guess and
his appearance matched… Neelix!

She scanned the faces and figures of the rest of the gathering, but all the others were strangers…
no one whom she could recall. Why… only Tuvok and Neelix? Where were the others?
Her thoughts were interrupted by Thovaihn’s voice, as he held out his staff over the steaming pot
and passed the wooden rod over the top of the open kettle three times. “Tonight we call upon
the spirits who remain in the Inbetween, those friends who have not reached the Otherworld. Be
at peace with us, and walk kindly among us. We call upon the spirits of all the trees to be at
peace with us and to walk kindly with us. We call upon the spirits at rest in the Otherworld to
accepts our offerings on this, the first night of a new year.”

The priest turned to the group surrounding the fire and
continued. “Good people, on this night we invite the spirits of our friends at unrest in the
Inbetween to walk among us, to celebrate with us this night of Samhain, and to be guided
through the opening gates between the worlds. We call to these spirits to appear and be
remembered. Danu mo bandia, even the Lady Caitlin herself, is here with us to guide you to your
peace.”
Kathryn suddenly sat upright, her eyes widening as she realized that her presence was a pivotal
element in the events… and that she had no clue as to what she was to do! She was a person who
always liked to be prepared, or at least have a *briefing* on a proposed mission; contingency
plans were almost always in
place… but here, she knew nothing… no one to give her the details. Thovaihn’s eyes once more
locked with hers; a peace settled over her… *he* would guide her; she only needed to follow his
lead.

Elfin glee shown in Neslrum’s eyes as he approached his leader. His hands were holding a bowl
of polished burled wood, filled with what appeared to be shelled nuts and loose grain. Thovaihn
reached into the bowl, and filled his hand with the mixture. He raised his hand above the bowl,
letting the particles rain down into the container. “The time of Imbas Forosna is upon us. Let us
partake of the sacred grain, dedicated to our lady.” He took the bowl from his assistant. He
offered the bowl with its contents to each member of the group. One by one, they picked up
some of the mixture between forefinger and thumb, and swiftly ate the food. As the particles
were being offered, the offerer spoke these words: “May the spirits find their peace with us
tonight as they join us in our rite.” The partakers responded with the phrase, “May peace and
happiness come tonight.”

At the completion of the sharing of the grain by Neslrum,
Thovaihn took the bowl over to Kathryn. “Danu mo bandia, you who lead the spirits from the
Inbetween to the Otherworld, be with us tonight and with all the spirits as you guide them
through the mighty gate.” She took the bowl, and offered it to him. He repeated the action of the
others and indicated that she was to keep the bowl.

Even as he was with her, the celebrators were in a line to sip from an earthenware chalice that
Neslrum had filled with the steaming liquid from the caldron. Again, as all had completed this
part of the ritual, the little man and his tall companion served each other; then, the chalice was
filled again and brought to their guest of honor. Without a word, Thovaihn signaled to Kathryn
that she was to drink the contents of the goblet. The first sip told her that it was a warm honeyed
wine mixture, mulled with a mixture of aromatic spices. It tasted very good on this chilly
evening, and she welcomed its offering.

As she drained the final drop, she heard the group of
participants starting yet another chant. This time, it sounded more like a low droning hum,
uttered in a sing-song rhythm. Their bodies began swaying; they had their arms draped across
each other’s shoulders as a communal support. The sounds became more fervent; Thovaihn and
Neslrum were now joining in. Kathryn found the sounds of the chants were now coming from
her lips. She remained on her granite seat, but she, too, was swaying in time with the singing.
She closed her eyes; it was if she were asleep, drifting on clouds of feathers. She could feel the
breeze caressing her cheeks.

Suddenly, the now-familiar strains were joined by other voices… softer… as if further away. The
new voices seemed… more melodic… richer… but as they progressed, they became… more
plaintive… almost as if they were in pain. Still, she kept her eyes closed, enraptured by the
lilting voices. The breeze became stronger… colder; the voices came closer and closer… the
lyrics lost their logic… were fragmented and foreign… the tones were no longer melodic… the
musical tone was
degenerating… into sighs… cries… and moans.

Her eyes quickly opened and beheld a frenzied sight, for all around her — to the sides, in front
and back and above and beyond — twirling forms of beings and faces swam their way through
the swirling smoke spirals and around the robed assembly circling the flaring fire. They were
there but not there, somewhat transparent but dense enough in form to present features that were
calling to recesses in her mind… begging for
acceptance… for acknowledgment… for serenity.

They continued their winding convolutions, gamboling and twisting among their hosts…
reaching out arms that were now long, now short, now twining and stroking and grasping… to
reach a sought goal. Veils of an iridescent substance clouded their forms and limbs, floating
along as diaphanous wings cloaking their
bodies… their eyes were dark as unconsumed coal, but shone with a brilliance that illuminated
their pale faces. Their whirling patterns of flight took them into long swoops and languid soars,
high as if they were going to join the stars above… low enough to bring them so close that the
chilling coldness of their breaths seemed to freeze on contact.

Kathryn was consumed by the overwhelming visual display… muted by the cacophony of sensual
stimuli. Her head first was drawn one way, only to be enticed by another specter. She wanted to
run… to escape… yet, the beings compelled her to remain. Her companions of the circle had
joined in with the macabre dance; they, too, were swirling and jumping and seeming to unite
with the ethereal beings. The more the dance progressed, the more distinct the features of the
apparitions became… and she became immobile… her blood ran as cold as an icy sea… as
familiar features revealed themselves to her. For these phantoms were not here for the assembled
gathering; they were there for *her*… they were her lost shipmates… the lost souls of the Delta
Quadrant… longing for solace of the Otherworld… of home.
Their petitions and pleas were as the cold wind, crying out to her for consolation of closure. Her
heart became as heavy as their moans, realizing that she was responsible now for them in death,
even as she had been in life.

There was a brush against her shoulder, and she turned quickly to gaze into the pleading eyes of
Ensign Kaplan… a tap on her arm and she spun to be grasped by Lieutenant Durst, his body still
gaping with the wound inflicted when the Vidiians tore into him.

A maniacal laughter came from the trees… she twisted to see Lon Suder jumping from branch to
branch in the heavy oak tree, high above her head… chasing and twisting after Crewman Darwin,
his prey on the ship… now his eternal quarry in their unending contest.

She heard her name being whispered, and a breath like a kiss on her cheek… she put her hand up,
only to see it disappear through an apparition of Commander Cavit… dear, dear Cavit… she
reached out for him, only to have him fade away into the hauntingly sweet visage of Quinn…
wonderful, tortured Quinn… who had changed the Q Continuum forever… she tried to close her
eyes, willing them peace and conclusion.

Her own peace was not to be, however. A wild, animalistic howling came from around the fire,
jerking her attention away from the loving thoughts… a howling that became a screeching
shrillish laughter… Seska!… still tormenting, even after death… she was dancing around the fire
with Jonah, who joined her in her eerie taunt of her eternal enemy… for Seska, peace would
only be if Kathryn could never attain it. They encircled Kathryn, tugging… grasping… snatching
at her hair… her cloak… her body… bringing her dangerously close to the blazing fire.

Suddenly she felt herself pulled away from their diabolical grasp, and being spun away once
more by a trio led by Lieutenant Stadi… just as the Betazoid woman had once guided the ship’s
helm, once more she was giving Kathryn a safe passage. Ensign Hogan and Crewman Bendera
shielded their former leader from the flames being thrown by the still mutinous pair.

A booming voice abruptly stilled the gyrating apparitions. The cold night came to a stand-still as
Thovaihn raised his staff high over his head and began an incantation:

“Now is the darkness; now is the pain; now are the fears.
Now is the danger; now is the hate; now are the tears.
Call on our Mistress, she is the one; hers is the way
She will bring peace and solace; she will bring eternal day.”
He turned to her and said, “Good Mistress, your presence has called these unrested souls to our
celebration. Just as you had responsibility for them in life, so you must lay their souls to rest.
However, in order to fulfill the task, you must have the help of another to complete the journey.
Even though you are to lead them to the Otherworld, the Gatekeeper must be summoned by you
to help open the gate.”

Kathryn was in a daze with all that had been happening.
“Gatekeeper? Where?”

“You must circle the oak tree, the king of trees, three times. Then, the invisible will become
visible to you. Follow its way into the sacred grove; the lights of your stones will show you the
path. The Gatekeeper will meet and instruct you, for a sacrifice must be offered. He alone
knows what offering must be made. When the gift has been offered and accepted, you will be
allowed to open the gate. Only the two of you as one can open the gates and allow peace for the
spirits of Samhain.”

Thovaihn reached down, picked up the stone-laden ends of her leather girdle, and placed them in
her hand. The stones began to glow as precious gems, their glowing light warming her hand.
“Now, be on your way. You and the Gatekeeper must return before the first light of dawn, else
the spirits will be unrest for yet another year.”

At the mention of their being, the spirits moaned a mournful song and spiraled around her:

“Go down the path of dark and gloom
To the Gatekeeper in his forest room;
Return again to grant us peace
And from our torment find release.”

The music swelled as it seemed that their very motion jostled her to the mighty oak. Invisible
hands were grasping hers, leading her in the magical dance around the tree.

She completed the third circuit and found herself no longer with the ghostly host but surrounded
by looming dark shadows of the towering trees. The warmth inside her closed hand bade her
open her fingers, and, as she did so, a golden illumination spread out around her… the stones
were lighting a path through the tall woods.

Above her head, she heard a rustling on the almost bare branches; a soft bird song echoed forth
in symphonic words… lilting her name… calling… “Kathryn, Kathryn… follow me; I will lead
you. Listen for my voice; I will safely guide you to the
Gatekeeper’s glen.” The whispering wind of a bird in flight touched her cheek, and there before
her was a nightingale, with large, voluminous blue eyes. “Follow me, Kathryn,” the bird
repeated, in a low mellow voice… a voice that sounded like… Kes.

*Could it really be?* thought Kathryn. *Dear Kes… who could always calm me and point my
thoughts in the right direction…* She reached out to touch the bird, only to see its shimmering
wings fly in front of her, guiding her on this mystical journey. How far away was this
Gatekeeper? What sacrifice would be required? She thought back to the time when she had
gone through another ritual… for another crew member who was dead… for her very own Kes.
Would she once more be designing her own trial to aid her departed crew? Was this all a
creation of her own mind?
Reason and logic were no longer functions of her thoughts; she did not know how long she had
been following her bird companion through the shadowy forest. She was loosing her sense of
space as well as time… it seemed that her feet were no longer
touching ground… that her arms and legs were floating in another time and place.

The deprivation of sense was clouding her thoughts when she saw a glow coming from an area
ahead of her. As she and her avian companion got closer, the trees thinned, and an open area
appeared among the trees. It was a circular space, about thirty feet across, carpeted with thick
dark green moss. The edge of the area was surrounded by a ring of tall torches, illuminating the
area with a soft warmth and incandescence. She walked to the center of the opening, peering
around its circumference and into the woods beyond. The Kes-bird perched on one of the tree
branches. Together, their voices called, “Hello? Hello?”

A sound came from the trees behind her; she turned to see who — or what — was approaching. A
shadow took form as a figure came out of the darkened area, and grew in size as it got closer.
Features became more distinct… and a familiar form appeared. Recognition of the person
brought a smile to her face, even though his garb, like hers, was… different. Clad in leggings and
tunic of a soft brown suede, he drew close to her, and smiled… that wonderful, warm, radiant
smile that she knew so well. “Chakotay!” she said with relief and joy, reaching out for him.

A quizzical expression came upon his face and he ever so slightly backed away. “Milady? No,
my name is Cuchulainn, the Gatekeeper of the Otherworld. Why do you seek me in my
hollow?”

She, too, now felt hesitant. Backing into the role she had been assigned in this eerie fantasy, she
spoke softly but firmly. “I am called… Caitlin. I am known as the Mistress of the Grove. I have
been sent by… others… to request of you to help me open the gate of the Otherworld, so that
certain… spirits… of my acquaintance may be at peace.”

The swarthy man of the woods approached her once more. “I had been shown in a vision that
you would come on this Samhain eve. It has been many years since any has sought my
assistance; the spirits must be many.” He started circling her, his right hand gently marking the
circumference from her left cheek… around her head… and came to rest her right cheek. She
closed her eyes with the sensation that it aroused in her.

“You do know that there is a price for my aid, do you not?”
She opened her eyes and found her face only inches from his. Her eyes stared into the dark
depths of his. His breath was warming her face and warning her being. “Yes, I have been told.
But, I have nothing to offer, other than… these stones,” she said, showing him the now-dimmed
red and white stones that she held in her hands.

He gently… slowly… closed her fingers around the two objects.
“The stones are merely tools. A sacrifice must be something personal… cherished… a forfeit of
self…” His hands were once more caressing her… finding her lips… her chin… her neck. His
fingers tenderly raised the hair from her long neck, exposing the white skin that contrasted to his
dusky hand. He leaned down and lovingly placed a kiss on her neck, following its curvature
with additional ones. She leaned with each touch, allowing him access to his goals…
succumbing with each brush of his lips… sighing with each breath.

He continued speaking, in hushed, shortened phrases. “The
gift…must be… something… that has… never been… given… before… to me… or… to you.” His
very utterance seemed to mesmerize her more. His hands grasped her shoulders and pulled her
tightly to him; his lips found hers.

She gasped with her awareness of his strength… his desire. *Yes… I know now what is
required,* she thought. *But… can I? Who is this really… or am I really here?* Kathryn’s
thoughts were as disarrayed as the emotions cascading through her body. She found her arms
reaching up to embrace him… to pull him closer to… into her. *If only this really were…
Chakotay… or, is it really him?* A small laugh went through her mind. *Would it really be a
sacrifice?*

He pulled away, only to lean to her ear and whisper, “*You* are the sacrifice… but you already
know that, do you not?” His eyes were burrowing into her very soul.

Kathryn drew in a breath before her simple reply, “Yes; I
understand.” Even as she spoke, she could feel his powerful hands finding their way to the clasp
of her cloak. He opened the metallic buckle and allowed the heavy garment to fall onto the
verdant forest floor. His hands now took on a gentle touch as they continued their journey to her
breasts, and tenderly fondled the soft, welcoming mounds, rising to meet his search, underneath
her robe. His caress of the delicate area left no doubt in her mind as to what was to follow… and
the idea of such pleasure as a sacrifice was quickly disappearing from her dazed mind and
aroused body.

He reached around her neck, under the soft weight of her hair, to find the restraining closure to
her robe, to further release her responding body to him. She was searching for the lower hem of
his tunic, to allow herself the touch of his rich bronze skin. His breathing was starting to take on
a more desperate sound… the breaths were shorter, more labored. “Kathryn…” he moaned into
her ear.

She jumped, hearing this form of her name. *Kathryn? But… I told him ‘Caitlin’ Could it be…
no, it was mind tricks… the zephyrs of this magical place.*

Their remaining clothing fell to join her cloak. They stood facing each other, in the cold late
autumn night, their bodies warm and glowing with the passion that had been awakened. She
lifted her right hand, and laid it on his left chest, as she had done many times before… in another
time… another reality. His deeply dimpled smile in response to her action resolved any lingering
doubts that she had about what was to come; he knew… he knew what this touch meant. This
was *not* a woodsman named Cuchulainn; this was her Chakotay. Just as they had pledged to
each other that they would care for their joint crews, now they would share in putting to rest the
spirits of the souls that they had lost from their combined bands… good people, tortured people…
but *their* people, even in death…

He pulled her into his all-encompassing embrace. *Only the two of you as one… can open the
gates,* she thought, surrendering to his lips once more. His hold was now urging their bodies
down… down to the welcoming cushions of the garments and thick moss. As they lowered
themselves, anticipating the culmination of their passion, the materials of their cast-off clothing
became a thick silken bed, in a shimmering midnight blue that mirrored the starry skies
overhead, with gray and brown spirals and swirls further giving it life. Their sighs matched the
sighs surrounding their mystical place of repose.

“Kathryn,” he said, “Somewhere… sometime… someplace… I have loved you before… I have
always loved you.” This gentle man was exploring her luxuriant body with his hungry hands…
insatiable in their need to gain nourishment from her life-giving stores. His hands were not the
only part of him gaining in strength and demands; she could feel his evergrowing desire seeking
her own awakened, welcoming chamber.

Her hands encircled his broad back, her fingers stroking paths of ever increasing intensity,
finally grasping the tensed muscles of his firm buttocks. Both of their bodies had assumed a
rocking rhythm that further escalated the motions of their hands… of their passion. And,
suddenly, the gatekeeper found his gate… she led him in… and the two were as one. No magical
words were needed, other than sighs and whispered names. A sweet song from the nightingale
echoed from the treetops high above them. As they drifted into a light slumber, remaining
leaves from the almost barren trees rained down onto the pair, transforming and meshing into a
downy soft coverlet, imbued with designs of never- ending, never-beginning knots.

He awoke to the silken feel of her fingers seeking his strength once more. Sensing her need to
gain from his vitality, he, too, sought her desire. Swollen, warm and moist from past and
present, she was ready for him. Overjoyed at her response and willingness, he once more
accepted her gift to him. This time, there was not the immediate intensity of their need, but the
slower, savoring motions needed to satisfy their ageless
yearnings. Where… when… had these feelings begun? Surely, they were not from this one place
in time, for the power of the two beings was too much for this one small moment.

The ecstasy of their rapture obliterated the world around them until they were summoned from
their love-induced reverie by the nightingale’s haunting song above their heads. They both turned
to look up at the lone witness to their fervent consummation. The melodic trills again took on
the familiar human voice. “My friends, it is time to return to the circle; daylight will be here
soon.”

Kathryn stiffened, realizing the implications of a late arrival to her starting place. As she stirred
to get up, her avian attendant swooped down and revolved over the entwined pair. The coverlet
once more became swirling leaves, scattering to their new homes within the trees. As the bird
continued to circle, the blue and gray and brown cushion underneath them became fluid and
flowed over their bodies, unwinding and winding soft and coarse threads of the several colors
around them, once more clothing them in the garments which they had discarded earlier.

The Gatekeeper arose, and stretched out his two hands to Kathryn, to help her up. He adjusted
the gray cloak, carefully
fastening the metal clasp and finally silently kissed her one more time.

The nightingale was on the ground in front of them. Suddenly, the feathered animal started
growing in size… wider and
wider… longer and longer… taller and taller… until she stood, equal in height with the man and
woman. “Climb onto my back and allow me to transport you back to the others,” she softly said
in her serene voice. In amazement, the couple climbed aboard the glistening black back of their
chariot. Cuchulainn carefully encircled the birds neck with his strong arms; Kathryn secured
herself behind him, her arms lovingly grasping him around his waist.

With an effortless ease, the enchanted bird arose; the burden of her passengers was no more
than two spare feathers. High above the trees they rose, flying into the stars above. Kathryn
leaned into the Gatekeeper’s broad back, savoring the strength and comfort of his body once
more. The sparkling background of the night sky cradled them with a parental protectiveness…
never again did she want to be without his contentment and serenity…
Almost as quickly as their journey across the forest began, the Kes-bird landed, just out of sight
of the circle of celebrators and their leaders. The communal dance with the spirit visitors was
still proceeding. It was obvious that most of the contents of the cauldron had been consumed,
for the tempo of the
frolicking had reached a fevered pitch. Kathryn and Cuchulainn walked to edge of the group; it
was then that Thovaihn saw them. He raised his staff; suddenly all clamor and movement
ceased. The fluid spirits sought resting places on the branches of the ancient oak tree; the human
participants fell to the ground in an exhausted stupor.

Thovaihn approached the pair. “Welcome, Mistress and Master. We have been awaiting you.
Will you be able to open the gate and allow entry to the Otherworld?”

Cuchulainn spoke. “All is in harmony. We are prepared to open the gate, good sire.” He took
Kathryn’s hand and led her to the massive tree.

Thovaihn once more raised his staff, and struck the tree with a mighty blow. “Duir Dair
Derwen, Mighty Oak King, we bring the Mistress of the Grove and her chosen, the Gatekeeper,
to open your exalted gate, the entrance to the Otherworld. Hear us now, as we invoke the chant
of Imbolc, the way of the Sacred Grove.” He continued with his song:

“Tree of Life, Tree of Death,
You who open to eternal light
Be with these, our spirit friends,
And guide them safely through this night.”

Cuchulainn then said to Kathryn, “I will now open the door, and you will lead the spirits on their
way. Hold high a stone in each hand.” He stood in front of the majestic tree and placed his
hands on its thick trunk. As his hands caressed the jagged bark, the tree shook. A loud “crack”
echoed through the charged, unnatural night air. The tree opened, exposing a wide burled gate,
held closed by a large tongued latch. He pulled at the crosspiece of the lock, dislodging it from
its holder. He pulled at the massive gatedoors… and a scene of a sea of welcoming opaque light
appeared as the doors opened.

As the light suddenly appeared, the perched apparitions became an undulating wave of flutter
and sound, swirling, diving, tumbling… and flying towards Kathryn’s upraised hands. She
watched in awe and amazement as the stones grew, until they entirely filled her palms. They
were once more glowing with their unearthly radiance, but they did not feel hot… only…
comforting.

She was frightened at first by the frenzied phantoms circling her; but she stayed her post. They
spiraled up and down and around her, seeming to vie for positions. Suddenly, one by one, they
became piercing, potent beams… each focused with the intensity of a laser and one by one, they
entered the spheres she held… murmuring to her, in their final split second, their eternal
gratitude… and bidding her peace, also. As quickly as each entered, he or she was reborn, as the
sphere released a stream of glittering particles… and all soared with determined velocity to join
the myriad of stars filling the velvet sky.
All of the spirits had passed through except one. The last of the apparitions circled Cuchulainn
several times before making her final exit. The voice of Seska rang forth, its laughter piercing
the domain, “My soul is leaving this realm, but my spirit will always be next to yours.” And, she,
too, disappeared among the others…

His intent eyes followed her departure, a stern look on his stone-like face. As her being joined
the others to the
Otherworld, he looked at Kathryn. “You alone are the spirit with mine. There will never be
another…”

Kathryn heard a door open, and realized that her eyes were closed. She groggily fought to open
them … had she been asleep? She looked up as a figure approached her through the shadows of
the flickering candlelight.

“Kathryn… are you all right? You were supposed to join me for dinner,” Chakotay’s voice asked
with concern as he appeared from out of the darkness. He walked over to her. Seated on a tall
stool behind the slanted desk, she seemed to be in a daze… neither her eyes or her voice seemed
to be able to speak.

She shook her head, as if sweeping away the cobwebs of sleep. “Yes, Chakotay; I’m all right. I
guess I must have dozed off while I was reading…”

He took her hands into his, only to find that the fingers of each hand were tightly curled into
fists. He gently pulled her clutching fingers open, and she relaxed her hands. They both looked
into her now-opened hands… in one, there was a small red stone; in the other, one of a milky
white. She raised her quickly paling face; their eyes met.

“Kathryn, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost!” he laughed, as he slid her off of the stool and took
her trembling form into his arms.

Kathryn softly murmured, with a serious smile on her face, “I have… I have seen *many* of
them.” She looked at the stones, and moved the white one from her right hand to join its sister
red one in her left palm. She folded her fingers, once more enclosing the talismans. She then
slowly closed the ancient book in front of her, again fingering the worn, tooled design on its
cover.

She took a deep breath, and looked intensely into his trusting but questioning eyes. “Tell me,
Chakotay; do you believe in ghosts?” Her face had regained some of its color… and her piercing
blue eyes danced wildly, “Because… have I ever got a story for you!”

******************** And that’s all, folks! ********************

Delta Story
cmwende@compuserve.com

THAT WAS A RIVER PG-13

Summary: Prequel/sequel to “Dinner with Seven” — all the missing Janeway/Chakotay parts!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“The love we’ve had before can never change this one;
We’re not imprisoned by the past we’ve brought along.
It’s just you and me, one ship in the night;
There are no boundaries, there is no end in sight.

That was a river; this is the ocean
That never carried this much emotion.
Nothing compares to this deep devotion
That was a river; this is the ocean.”
—- THAT WAS A RIVER,
by Susan Longacre and Rick Giles

***********************************************************
The doors of the turbolift opened, and Captain Janeway entered the mess hall. A quick scan of
the area and its inhabitants revealed that Seven of Nine was progressing with her social skills, as
the older woman saw the younger one seated with Harry, Tom and B’Elanna. Her smile beamed
its thanks to the three younger officers who obviously had offered their hospitality to the aspiring
human. The captain went over to the serving line and quickly strolled over to speak with them.

“Seven, I see that you are in good company this evening.” Her eyes fell to the almost-empty
plate in front of their newest crew member. “And I see that you have braved Voyager’s cuisine.”
Seven looked at her, again not understanding the in-joke about the ship’s food. “I did not know
that one had to be brave to eat,” she said. The mutual laugh came from all around her.
“No… I’m sorry, I don’t mean to confuse you. It’s just that… sometimes the food is not what we
expect.”

“I found it… acceptable,” she said.

The Captain’s face corrected itself, but there was still a glint of humor in her eyes. “Yes, Mr.
Neelix’s food is… acceptable. Do you mind if I join you?” Nods from all invited her to the
group. Harry hurriedly got up and moved another small table to adjoin their already quite
crowded one, adding a couple of chairs as he was at it. He held out one of the chairs for his
captain, and Janeway took her place.

An uneasy air hung over the group. B’Elanna and Seven were practically “sizing up” each other;
Harry was fidgeting
nervously, and Tom’s smile appeared a bit more cheerful than it should be. She began to have
second thoughts about inviting herself to join them, and was just about to excuse herself. She
was mentally fumbling with an apology, when once again the turbolift doors opened for another
arrival to the mess hall — Commander Chakotay appeared as the doors slid open. His dark eyes
focused on the group, and he strode over to the table.
“Captain, could I have a word with you?” he said in a neutral tone.

“Certainly, Commander.” She tried to hide her sigh of relief for the welcome justification to exit
herself, although his demeanor was not a welcoming one. She got up, picking up her tray as she
rose. “Please excuse us; it seems that duty calls…”

They moved to another table, away from any of the other crew in the mess hall, but still
within view of the younger officers and Seven whose eyes seemed glued to their actions. Her
bionic left eye in particular allowed her to notice small gestures in their actions that might have
slipped past the range of normal vision.

Her study of the couple was intense. She followed them from the moment they left her table.
The captain walked a pace ahead of her first officer, not once looking back at him. He was
silent, with his head slightly lowered. When they reached their somewhat secluded table, she sat
down first. He sat at a right angle to her left, with his back to the rest of the room. He obviously
was talking to her; she started to eat, only to put her fork down and look at him, her hands and
forearms to either side of her tray. She looked at him, and started to answer. Suddenly, she
stopped talking, and lowered her eyes. She took a deep breath, then resumed her vocalization.
Again, she became silent but looked at him intently. It was obvious that he was now speaking;
his shoulders moved indicating some animation of his unseen hands and arms.

Seven’s eyes seemed intent on focusing on Janeway’s ocular movements. She astutely noticed a
slight change in the captain’s eyes, as if they became covered with a film of moisture. The senior
officer quickly straightened her shoulders, took another deep breath, forcefully blinked and sat
more upright. It appeared that both of the officers were silent at this time. She then saw
Chakotay’s right hand extend itself and cover the captain’s left hand, resting on the table. She
looked up, apparently into his eyes. Once again, he seemed to be speaking. She nodded. He
rose, walked behind her chair and pulled it out for her. She turned to him, and for a brief
second, she placed her hand on his chest. She then turned, and they quietly, swiftly walked
towards the turbolift, again with her just a pace or so in front. Both officers bore expressionless
faces; a visitor to the area would have noticed nothing unusual about their reactions. But to the
novice human that Seven was, the motions spoke volumes.

The silent scene had culminated. Seven looked at her companions and stated matter-of-factly,
“Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay… have strong feelings for each other.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Janeway and Chakotay had not consciously attempted to conceal their personal relationship from
the crew. They had been
circumspect in their off-duty public appearances, sometimes arriving together at functions,
sometimes separately, although they almost always left together. On duty, their professional
conduct demonstrated nothing different from the way it had been for three years. His public
actions on the bridge were always by the book — those expected of a first officer: supportive,
consultive and complying. Only the occasionally stolen glances at one another or reassuring
touches that lingered just a little too long gave any indication of another side of their lives — one
in which their heated devotion to duty was being replaced by a smoldering intensity that had
been ignited by the ever
increasing sparks of desire kindled on that fateful day over three years ago.

However, it had been evident to many of the crew that something had happened following the
Borg/8472 incident. The two were still models of Starfleet command in their posts. The senior
personnel may have noticed a little less interaction between their captain and number one in
staff meetings; but, since none was supposed to be cognizant of the personal relationship, no one
wanted to broach the subject. Even Tuvok, Janeway’s oldest and closest friend, had not been
invited into her inner sanctum of darkest concerns.

The schism seemed to be rift further by Kes’ sudden departure. No one on the ship had felt
closure with her abrupt, dramatic transition; but the Captain, even though she had been with the
young woman almost until the end, seemed to be the most lost without the young Ocampan. Kes
had been her sounding board… her confident… her daughter. If anyone had known anything
about hers and Chakotay’s relationship — its joys and its sorrows — it had been Kes. And now…
whatever Janeway’s problems, she had no one to whom she could turn.

Chakotay had also remained silent. There were some aboard who felt that he was showing a
little too much interest in the rehabilitation of Seven. Some rumors were even circulating stating
that it was the “de-Borging” of the tall blonde beauty that had prompted the commander to focus
his attention away from the captain… that he was more than willing to spend extra time with her,
to acclimate her to the Starfleet vessel, its crews and functions. But, if that had been the case,
wouldn’t Captain Janeway had shown just a little animosity towards their newest member?
Instead, the Captain herself seemed more than willing to allow Seven some of the attention she
used to emit towards Kes. No, those closest to both Janeway and Chakotay knew that the
problem had to lie deeper.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the thirty-six hours preceding the life-changing confrontation with the Borg, they each had
finally committed themselves to the buried emotions that had been waiting to erupt for months.
He had pledged himself to be with her always; she had confessed that her life would be nothing
without him. Their concern about each other with the approaching conflict added an urgency to
their new-found desire. After the harrowing initial experience of Chakotay, Tuvok and Harry
aboard the conquered Borg cube and the horrendous discovery of the omnipotence and terror of
Species 8472, she once more was faced with the possibility that one of them could be taken
away, in the fraction of one silent breath… and neither would have known… what joy there could
be.

The hours too quickly passed, with still no plan formulated as to how they were to face the
unknown joint enemies. Chakotay had reminded her that she had not slept, and that sleep was
necessary for any successful offensive maneuver; he was there, performing a primary duty of a
loyal first officer. He escorted her to her quarters, only to make certain that she did go there.

They arrived at the entrance to her rooms. What happened next replayed a scene that has been
enacted billions of times in the history of the universe. A slight supportive touch… a
comforting hug… cheeks touching… eyelash brushing eyelash… fingers cradling faces… lips
seeking each other… hands exploring undiscovered territories.

Neither had meant it to happen; it just did. They could not stop grasping for each other, sharing
body warmth and comfort and consolation… hoping to experience in hours what most people
would share in a lifetime. Flesh became one; souls viewed eternity. In a matter of moments,
their lives had been
transfigured… formal protocol and forbidden pleasures
interchanged, for tomorrow might bring oblivion. They were sacraments to each other, awaiting
the possible Armageddon of the approaching apocalypse. Each sigh was a prayer; every kiss a
sip of sacramental wine. Their bodies reached the crescendo of their ultimate offerings to one
another, vowing endless faith and trust to each other. Only then did they welcome sleep, as a
benediction to their union.

Janeway awoke. She heard the gentle snore from beside her, and propped herself up on one
elbow. Looking down on the peaceful figure next to her, she knew that there was no way she
could allow a victory by the Borg or 8472. She had been determined before, but now… now, life
was all the more precious, and all the more worth saving; his love had given her the ultimate
courage. There had to be a way to outmaneuver these adversaries, and she vowed that she would
find that path: for the ship… for them… for him. She quietly slipped out of the bed, dressed, and
went to the one place where she knew she could think best… in the presence of a genius.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ancient laws of physics state that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.
Just as quickly as they had found consolation and trust, Janeway and Chakotay were pulled by
opposite poles. Each was bound to his or her opposing strategy; and the more they tried to
absolve the charged atmosphere, the more their actions repealed each other. So, rather than
continually malign each other whenever they were alone together, they tacitly but mutually
avoided situations which might resolve into only the two of them being present. At first, the
ionized air was conspicuous; but as time when on, the static became silence. In space, can
anyone hear you cry?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chakotay had been updating the personnel rosters. As he was scanning the lists, he noticed that
Kes remained in the records. Following her departure from Voyager, her name should have been
removed from the list of active crew members. Janeway was the only one authorized to execute
this duty, yet she had not
performed the finalizing act. He knew that Kes’ transformation had left Kathryn desolate,
although she had held her emotions in check. He activated the young woman’s files. There was
an attachment to them, made by Kes herself. In accessing this entry, he found that it was
addressed to Janeway and himself. He called up the addendum. It was a farewell message to the
two of them!

Kes’ loving face appeared on the screen, her soothing tones bidding them goodbye. The
communication had been posted a few months earlier, when the young woman was becoming
aware of the rapid changes in her life. It was obvious that she had a
foreshadowing of her upcoming transformation. However, her words spoke of hope and
encouragement for her Voyager family; in particular, for him and the captain. Even in
anticipating her leaving, her caring nature seemed more concerned about their growing
relationship.

He reviewed the entry three times. Each time, he felt his spirit become heavier and heavier. Kes
— lovely, warm, understanding Kes! She knew… understood… what each of them was harboring
within their troubled hearts. She alone had fathomed the depths of their warring spirits. He
knew that he should not have opened the message without Kathryn’s being there; would she
consent to join him now? Perhaps this was the catalyst that was needed to open the closed but
festering wound of their relationship.
“Computer, locate Captain Janeway.”

“Captain Janeway is in the mess hall,” came the droning response.
He left his ready room and entered the turbolift.

“Deck 2,” he instructed the computer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They entered the turbo lift, exiting the eating area. Janeway’s hands were moist with the cold
sweat of apprehension. He had told her nothing about the content of Kes’ message, although it
was obvious that he had viewed it. Loss was nothing new in her life; but the loss of the person
who had been the closest she would ever have as a daughter… nothing is worse than losing a
child! Part of her soul left her when Kes left… and the abyss that remained was filled with
nothing but heavy sorrow. No consolation could take that away.

They stood silently beside each other for the quick trip to the bridge. She had suggested the
somewhat neutral area of her ready room in which to share the communication; absolutely
nothing more intimate! As it was, she was concerned that she would not be able to disguise her
anguish, not knowing that he could already sense the desolating pain that ran through her. They
quickly paced the distance from the lift to her office, being followed by the curious, concerned
eyes of the beta shift’s crew on the bridge.

Stalling for time, as they entered the room, she asked him if he would like some coffee. The
words seemed to be the first civil statement she had made to him in many weeks. “Yes, please,”
he answered quietly, moving a chair beside hers at the desk. She poured each of them a cup,
from her ever-present silver coffee pot, and brought them over to her desk. She sighed as she sat
down, and called up Kes’ personnel file, and scrolled down to its last entry. A brusque command
to the computer… “Open ‘Kes – Omega'”. And the smiling, elfin face appeared.

“Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay, I hope that both of you are together to view this.”
Janeway cast a quick look at her first officer; he had once again disobeyed a request by
reviewing its contents without her being present.

“My time on Voyager seems to have been one step in the sequence of my life. It has allowed me
to experience so many
opportunities and share with so many people. No matter where my growth takes me, I want you
to know that I could not have had better teachers… or parents. That is what you have been to
me: far more then mentors or friends. You have given me the guidance and the freedom to
explore and grow; allowing me to make mistakes and choices; picking me up when I have fallen
and urging me onward when I was uncertain… but always being there for me, whatever the
consequences.

“I am presuming that I have moved on to still another level in my existence if you are looking at
this message. I want you to know that I leave you with all my love and thanks for your patience
and concern. In doing so, I want to share with you some of my feelings and observations about
you yourselves, things of which you are either unaware or do not want to acknowledge. Just as
you always encouraged me to explore the unknown, so would I put this in front of you.”

Janeway shifted uncomfortably, recrossing her legs and gripping the arms of the chair; Chakotay
nervously cleared his throat.
“Each of you cares strongly for each and every member of the ship. You each continually go out
of your way to be fair to all, but many times, at the cost of your own individuality by denying
yourselves the very qualities you espouse for them. In doing so, you can harm others. You must
learn to be good to yourselves, too. Only when you are truly happy can others around you be
content.

“Your trip will be a long one. In looking at Starfleet history, already your trip is longer than any
other one recorded in warp annals. Voyager is unique; it is no longer just a Starfleet vessel, but
a home. As such, you should provide a homelike atmosphere… be firm when necessary; be
supportive; be loving. Allow yourselves and the rest of the crew to create a home-like structure.
Good command experience tells you to look at the long range picture. Where will you be in 10
years… 20… 30? Who will be there… how will you be functioning?

“Look to yourselves. You must continue to be the examples to the entire crew. They look to you
for guidance.” For the first time in the message, Kes appeared ill at ease. “Trust in yourselves.
You will not always agree, but allow yourselves to grow and learn from your disagreements.
Share your trust, but allow for
differences. You are going to be together for a long time… is it easier to shoulder burdens alone
or with help? Just as you rely on each other for command support, you need each other for
personal support. Talk to each other; don’t talk with each other; but, let each other understand at
all times.

“I have grown in so many ways over the last three years, and so have you… including your love
for each other. Yes, I said ‘love’. You may not have recognized this, but I have seen and felt its
continual growth. Each of you has hidden this feeling, presuming that it would jeopardize the
mission and the crew. But I think that it would be beneficial for Voyager to be allowed to share
the joy that I have felt from both of you. Be that
example… share that love and joy openly.

“I will not be the last person to leave Voyager… and future departures will occur in different
ways. Preserve the good that you have; pass it along to others. I trust that you both will find
ways in which to do this, and to encourage it in others. I love both of you very much, and want
you to know that wherever I am when you are viewing this message that I will be there with you;
*you* be there for each other.”

The screen went blank. The room echoed with silence. Neither Janeway or Chakotay appeared
even to be breathing. A movement in the air… his hand went over to hers, and quietly covered it,
much as he had done earlier. She remained ramrod straight, her hand just laying there.
Seconds… or was it minutes?… passed; neither wanted to speak first. Their faces turned at the
same time; their voices blended as they broke the silence together.
“Chakotay”… “Kathryn”… The simultaneous words prompted nervous laughs from each of
them… the first time that they had laughed together in weeks. Again, as if sensing the need for
synchronous movement, they rose from their chairs. No
premeditation was necessary — his arms were outstretched and she walked into their comforting
embrace. As his hands went up to her face, he realized that her cheeks were marked with wet
tear tracks. He gently wiped them away as her face turned upwards. Her eyes were still filled
with droplets; he leaned down to kiss her. Her lips were warm and wet and salty from the tears.
They slowly drew apart from the intense embrace; they could feel each other’s heart beating as if
giving a new rhythm to their lives. She led him over to the sofa. “We need to talk,” she said
quietly.

He followed, but did not allow himself to relax; he sat on the edge of the sofa, at an angle to her
more firmly seated position.
“Kathryn, we don’t have to make any decisions right now. I don’t want you to feel that you have
to commit to anything right away. We’ve been here for long time, and we’ll be here a lot longer.”
“Chakotay, are you playing hard to get? After all this time of cat and mouse, now that the mouse
has stopped, is the cat going to ignore its prey?” Her eyes were still brilliant, but now from a
growing tease.

“No,” he said, chuckling at her analogy and tapping the tip of her nose. “But, I *am* tired of the
teasing… the ‘will she or won’t she?’ games. Kathryn, no more games. If you really mean it, let’s
move forward; if not, let’s hold off until we know that the commitment is… forever. I won’t deny
that it will be difficult. We *will* have disagreements… arguments… but we must always be
willing to back off and try to understand each other. We cannot throw up a curtain of silence
every time we contest each other. Kes was right when she said that we are an example to the rest
of the crew; what sort of a statement are we making to them by our current actions?”

She sighed, leaned her head back over the top of the sofa and closed her eyes. “You’re right, of
course. A lifelong… or at least journey long… pledge deserves serious thought and
discussion. This is a promise not just to ourselves but also to one hundred and forty other
people. Does this put us right back where we started?” She looked at him.

“No,” he stated simply, his eyes, filled with a mixture of sorrow and hope, staring into the depths
of hers. “Because right now I am going to say… Kathryn Janeway, I love you. I have for almost
our entire time together, and I will for whatever time we are given, now and forever.”

She sat upright, speechless for one of the rare times in her life. He continued, “There. You can’t
say that we’re back to the beginning now.”

Again, she fell into his waiting arms. He held his breath, both fearful and anticipating her
response. But… finally, he had now said it. Months… years… of waiting, suppressing his
feelings. Was he just another duty for her? Or, were Kes’ sensings correct? Surely she couldn’t
remain silent.

“Chakotay”… her voice was low, sweet and resonant…and
agonized. “My sweet, brooding, tormented Chakotay…have I really tortured you that much? Do
you consider me so horrible? I have not meant to cause you such pain. Can you forgive me?”
She was tenderly tracing the lines of his tattoo with her forefinger. From there, it went down to
his lips. He kissed her finger, then opened his mouth and drew it inside. She slowly pulled it
out, the wet tension causing a familiar tautness inside her body. She emitted a deep sigh as she
sat back. “I have known… since New Earth… that this day was just as inevitable as the
confrontation with the Borg.” (She winced at the mention of the incident that had precipitated
their disagreement.) “I knew that the minute…wherever, whenever… you said… those words…
that I would have to respond by saying… I love you, too.”
He now leaned into her. With his kiss, the barricades of the last few weeks came tumbling
down. Now, it was time to rebuild, with a firm foundation… stone by stone, step by step,
thought by thought. No more shifting sands or unknown feelings. Much had to be discussed and
shared; where to begin?

Once more, she was cradled in his arms, resting against his strong body. He stroked her hair,
taking courage from her scent. “Kathryn, this is a new age for Voyager. As Kes said, we are a
family. The protocol of Starfleet disappeared the minute that the Caretaker’s array did. We must
create our own community; our own culture. It has already started, I think you will agree. And
we *are* the leaders, whether we like it or not. Our actions, as well as our words, are influential
on everyone. While I don’t suggest that we make all our actions public, I think that we should
lead others into understanding what they should… and could… be allowed to do.”

Her thoughts were jumbled, tumbling around each other. She had an idea that she knew where
he was going with the conversation, but was afraid to continue with its thread. Her ready room
was not the best place to continue this discussion. Yet, for all that already had been said in the
past few minutes, she knew that more had to be spoken before they could finally conquer their
impasse.

She suddenly jumped up, pulling him upright also. “You
interrupted my dinner. Let’s go back to the dining hall and see if Neelix has anything decent for
us. Besides,” she winked back at him, “I want to show you off!”

“I take it that you won’t mind being treated… um… more personally in public?” he teased back.

She laughed that wonderful throaty laugh of hers… hearty, honest, all woman. “Chakotay, I know
that you will ‘always’ be a gentleman!” She turned and gave him a quick kiss just before opening
the door back to the bridge. They exited, walking side by side, smiling broadly at each other as
they strode quickly to the doors of the turbolift. As they walked into the transport chamber, the
bridge crew noticed that their first officer’s left arm firmly and completely encircled their
captain’s waist. A silent smile of acknowledgement spread across the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They entered the eating area. There were a few stragglers still socializing over the remains of
the evening meal. Wafting through the air was the distinct odor of warm cookies. Mingling with
the inviting aroma was a high pitched squeal of glee, that of a child. It seemed that Neelix was
making something special for the ship’s youngest inhabitant.

Sure enough, they all of a sudden saw Sam Wildman and her
toddler, Kimberley, in the kitchen area with Voyager’s
bewhiskered chef. He had just taken some cookies from the oven, and was *trying* to convince
the excited little girl that she would have to wait until they were cool enough to eat. Sam bent
down to pick her up, hoping that she could distract Kimberley for just a few more minutes. As
she raised her precious load, Kimberley became “tall” enough to see the newcomers to the area.
Before Sam or Neelix had a chance to properly respond to their senior officers, Kimberley
squirmed out of her mother’s arms and ran over to Chakotay.

“Cho-key… Cho-key… I wan’ pway; les’pway!”

The tall man bent down and scooped up the young human/Katarian girl. Her childlike laughter
escalated as he spun her around, and finally perched her atop his shoulders. His smile broadened
as she gripped his hair for balance. Sam reached out to take her again, but both Chakotay and
Kimberley voiced their reluctance. “Commander, she has to learn that she can’t play with you
every time she sees you,” the mildly embarrassed mother said.

He looked at the ensign with nothing but pleasure in his eyes. “Sam, she’s the only one any of us
can spoil on Voyager. I enjoy every minute we can be together. Besides, I think you are doing an
admirable job of raising such a fine daughter. She brings all of us much delight.” He looked at
Janeway, hoping that she would concur with his statement.

The captain smiled back at Sam. “Ensign, Kimberley is a fine young lady. Even though it *does*
seem that she is making an awfully lot of male conquests at a very early age! I don’t know of any
other person on board that gets cookies especially made for her — or high flying rides from our
commander!”

Neelix came forward with a tray of his aromatic delicacies. “Cookies, anyone?” Kimberley, in
her youthful fickleness, was now swayed from Chakotay’s attention, as she asked to be let down
to be the first to get a cookie. Much to everyone’s surprise, she took a cookie and promptly
offered it to her friend, “Cho- key”. “Here… for you,” she said, proffering the cookie in her
chubby hand towards Chakotay.

Sam immediately leaned down and whispered to her daughter, “I think that we should offer the
cookie to Captain Janeway first.” Kimberley looked up at her and said, “Nex’ one.” And with
that, she then gave a cookie to Kathryn. Her good manners continued as she made sure that her
mother had one, too. Only then did she keep one for herself. While munching away on the
sweet, the toddler again walked over to Chakotay, and wrapped her free left hand and arm
around his right leg. She leaned against him, as if he were a comforting support. He placed his
hand on her head, and softly rubbed her head. Kathryn quietly took upon the scene taking place
in front of her. A large, oppressing lump formed in her throat… and in her heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Following a quick meal, Chakotay said that he had heard that Sandrine’s was “open” that night,
and suggested that they drop by, “for appearance’s sake.” He had noticed that Kathryn had
become more and more quiet as the evening progressed, and
interpreted it as an apprehension of making their “togetherness” known to the crew. A trip to
Sandrine’s should alleviate that concern of hers. She docily agreed.

They joined the raucous festivities in the saloon atmosphere. Chakotay even challenged her to a
game of pool. Whether he let her win, or whether her skills were *really* that good was a hot
topic among the “patrons” for the rest of the evening.
Outwardly, it was evident that whatever had happened between their two senior officers was
now behind them. There was a very open teasing, playful attitude between them. And the
glances once more were filled with the unspoken bond between them. However, Chakotay could
sense that there was still a nagging, unresolved doubt plaguing Kathryn. He wanted to get
whatever it was out in the open, before she once again walled it off and allowed it to become a
cancer in their relationship. She was not alone — when was she ever going to learn that lesson?

After a third round of humiliation at the pool table, Chakotay suggested that they join a group
from engineering, who had just ordered a round of syntheholic Sarian brandy. At the other side
of the room, they could hear Seven of Nine talking with poor Harry. It sounded like she was
asking him about… “what is dancing?” *Yes, poor Harry!* sulked half the males in the room. As
the others finished their drinks, Chakotay couldn’t help but wish that he dared drink some of the
real brandy… he felt that he still had a difficult hurdle to pass yet that evening.

The time passed, and the atmosphere took on a new tone. Groups broke into smaller ones or into
pairs. The background music had become more mellow and intimate; someone had lowered the
lighting level to a romantic overtone. Gradually, people started leaving, frequently as pairs.
*How long had this been going on?* thought Kathryn, watching some couples departing together
whom she had never “suspected”. Certainly, hers and Chakotay’s “example” in just one night
could not have produced so many… Her thoughts were interrupted.

“Kathryn, it’s getting late. And… I think there are some other… “things”… that we need… um,…
to talk about.”
*He knows…* she thought, with tight flutters of panic taking flight in her stomach. “Yes, I guess
you’re right,” she agreed. They got up and made a round of “good nights” and left the holodeck as
they had left the bridge, with his arm around her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They arrived at her quarters. Both of them were as uncomfortable as two teenagers following a
first date. Both knew that they would end up inside her suite; both knew that there was one
more barrier that had to be breached. Yet neither knew how to reach out and over the impasse.
After a few moments of small talk that neither of them could remember later, she said, “Come
in. We have to talk; alone…”

“Yes,” he said as he followed her inside. Once the doors closed, he walked over to her, and,
placing his hands tenderly on her shoulders, he asked, “What happened? Something happened…
when… what?”

She quietly reached up and removed his hands from her shoulders, only to take them lovingly
into hers and lead him over to the sofa. They sat, and she looked down and took a deep breath,
as if summoning the courage to speak.

“Chakotay… tonight… in the mess hall… you and little Kimberley…”

His eyes lit up; he interrupted her. “Isn’t she just about the cutest thing you’ve ever seen? For
some reason, she thinks that I’m her own personal playground. Sam has let me…”

Now it was Kathryn’s turn to interrupt. “You are wonderful with her… you are wonderful with
*all* children. I’ve seen you planetside several times with children… you attract them like a
magnet… like the old story of the Pied Piper. Then there was the young Kazon boy… and Karya,
even though she was only a hologram. And there was there was Seska… with your… your… and
how you thought that… and wanted to…” she stammered. Her voice was getting tight; her eyes
burned with hot tears she was trying to will herself not to shed. She found it almost
impossible to go on. “You would make a wonderful father,
Chakotay,” she said with a choking voice.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly to his warm body. He took one hand and
tenderly wiped away the tears that had escaped, as he kissed her eyes. “And you would make
one terrific mother,” he responded.

In spite of herself, she let out an anguished sigh and pulled away from the comfort of his
embrace. “Chakotay, this is why we must talk.” She sat back, bracing herself by leaning back
onto the sofa. Her right arm extended across the back, grasping the upholstery for further
support.

“Chakotay, when I saw that my Starfleet career was taking me into a captain’s position, I knew
that certain decisions had to be made. I knew that there was a great deal of truth to the old
saying of ‘it’s lonely at the top’, and I accepted that.
With…” she lowered her voice, and barely whispered, “…with Mark and me, we knew that my
career would always come first. He knew that one of the most difficult things I ever had to
accept in my life was a father… a Starfleet captain… who was always away… during critical
times in my life. I loved my father, but it was so very hard not to have him… be there… for
acceptance and approval… when I needed him.

“I vowed to myself that no child of mine would have to ever go through that form of denial and
unacceptance… that there would be just that… no child, no children.” She looked into his eyes
and saw that what she was saying was being understood. He waited, allowing her to continue.

“Every member of this crew is my child, Chakotay. In our
particular situation, even more so than it could ever be in a ‘normal’ existence. Even if we
allowed ourselves to… pledge ourselves to a degree of… um… permanent bonding… my
responsibility would still be to my ship, no matter where we are. And I believe both of us share
this devotion to our Starfleet responsibilities. Yet… when I saw you tonight with Kimberley, it
broke my heart to think that… if we… committed ourselves to the point where… besides, I’m not
that young anymore…” Again, her voice trailed off into failed words.

He once more lifted his hands to her face, cradling her beautiful countenance as his thumbs
traced her lips. “Kathryn, I
understand what you are saying. And you would not… *could* not… be the wonderful woman
you are if these thoughts didn’t produce such agony for you. It’s just because of that quality that
we… *I*… need you just as you are.” His hands now were rubbing the back of her neck, trying to
relax her tense muscles. “I would be lying if I did not tell you that I would like to be a father, and
the father of ‘our’ child. But, even more than that, I want to be with you… to be *for* you. You
are very correct in stating that every person on Voyager is your child… your responsibility. And
I want to share that responsibility with you. Together… we will raise ‘our family’… together, we
will see other children come, and enjoy and love them with their own parents. Together, we will
see that we produce a safe and harmonious home, for whomever is with us for the rest of our
journey. The important thing is… that we are together.”
He got up, pulling her up after him. As he gathered her to himself, he looked into her
questioning eyes; he gave her a teasing wink. “Besides, we can have all the fun with everyone
else’s children without the wet diapers and midnight feedings; for that their parents get them
back!” She allowed herself a weak smile. He leaned down; his kiss gave her all the response she
needed. *She* was all he needed and wanted.

“Besides, we couldn’t do *this* just anytime we wanted,” he said as he gently pushed her towards
her bedroom.

Her laugh became more strong, as she turned and started to unzip his uniform. “No, all we have
to worry about are interruptions from Tuvok.” His hearty laugh overtook hers, just as his arms
overtook hers. He lifted her into his arms and carried her the rest of the way to her bed.

“Not *this* time,” he said as he put her down, completing the job she had started by removing
his jumpsuit and he began to take hers off, too. “Not *this* time.”

Delta Story
cmwende@compuserve.com

DINNER WITH SEVEN PG-13

Summary: Seven of Nine discovers that mealtime is for more than the assimilation of food.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He had said to her, “If there’s any way I can help you adjust, just ask me.” This was an interesting
observation that she would have to discuss with him. For a non-Borg unit, Lt. Paris was certainly
willing to share… much more so than that female in engineering. Actually, other than Captain
Janeway, the females on this ship appeared to want to be completely separate from her, yet the
males were more than willing to spend time with her.
Captain Janeway had offered her something to drink, and told her that soon her physiology
would be allowing her to assimilate food. She had overheard a great deal of conversation
regarding this subject of food. She had thought of such assimilation as strictly a necessary
activity to regenerate the energy supplies of the humans, but they seemed to deem its
consumption as an essential social ritual. Perhaps there was more of a collective structure to
humans than she had perceived.

Lt. Kim suddenly was beside her. “Good evening, Seven,” he said nervously. “Are you heading
back to your alcove?”

“Mr. Kim…” she nodded perfunctorily, not noticing the young ensign’s thorough and appreciative
visual scan of her tight metallic garment. “I would like to know more about food and its
importance in human lives.”

Harry’s face flushed as the words tumbled from his mouth. “Well, I’m heading to the mess hall
for dinner right now. Would you care to join me? That is, unless…”

“That would be suitable,” Seven answered. “Perhaps I will try to eat some… food. Will Lt. Paris
be there?”

The ensign’s face clouded as quickly as it had brightened seconds earlier. “Yeah, I guess so.
Why do you need to see him?”

“Because he told me that if I needed help, he would help me. I need help in understanding
food.”

Harry laughed. “I think any of us can do that; I can do it, too!”

Seven looked at him, with nothing but seriousness in her large, inquisitive eyes. “Why do human
males like me, and the females dislike me? Are the males more interested in a collective
structure?”

*No, they’re more interested in ‘your’ structure,* thought Harry, knowing better than to say his
thoughts out loud. The ever- polite young man attempted to compose the correct words before
vocalizing them. “I think that you will find that all of the crew are friendly. It’s just that we have
had some very tough experiences recently… and not many of our experiences with the Borg have
been memorable.”

“Memory is irrelevant. Only function is important… the
function of the whole.”

Harry chuckled. “I think that as you start to appreciate your human side, you will find that
individuality is something to be appreciated. We all have our own individual ‘functions’ aboard
Voyager; and by combining all of our unique personalities and functions, we make it a better
place.”

They came to the turbolift. Harry stood back, and waved her on in front of him. He got on, and
addressed the computer, “Deck two.”

Seven looked at him, still with questions. “I wish to function in an appropriate manner also. I
wish to function in
engineering. Yet Lt. Torres does not wish me to add my
functions.”

Again, Harry agonized before responding. “Lt. Torres can be… impatient with anybody, not just
you. You caught her on a *really* bad day; don’t let first impressions be your only ones. And,
yes — she can be rather possessive…”

“What is this possessive?”

“It means that she thinks that she is in charge of certain things… functions… people…”

“But Captain Janeway is the superior officer. No one should have possession but her… she is the
head of this collective.”
“True, but Captain Janeway allows certain people to act in her place when she is not present. Lt.
Torres has a great deal of knowledge and experience in engineering, so she is in charge of that
area.”

“I also have a great deal of knowledge about engineering.
Although I am no longer connected to the collective, I retain much of their assimilated
information. I should be given… possession… of some engineering functions.”

Harry was saved from having to reply by the doors’ opening onto the entrance to the mess hall.
He felt the blood rushing to his face as eyes from all around the hall turned to see him with the
statuesque Seven. Gawks, stares and glares made their way to the entering twosome. And he
noticed that Seven’s observations had been correct: the eyes of the men were wide with wonder
and admiration, while those of most of the women were narrow with suspicion and seeming
distrust. His blush intensified as he felt he knew the thoughts of most of the men.

To his relief, he saw Tom, and called out to him. He then saw B’Elanna, who was hidden by
Tom’s height. *Traitor,* her
thoughts burned through her dark eyes into his. But he was committed, so he began to lead
Seven over to the table where Tom and B’Elanna were just beginning to settle for the meal. He
noticed Tom quickly leaning over and whispering something into B’Elanna’s ear. She glared up
at him, then shook her head as if in agreement with him. Her face still looked defiant, but she
had forced a half-smile.

“Tom, B’Elanna… Seven wanted to try some of Neelix’s home cooking tonight.”

“I do not wish to eat any of Neelix’ cooked home… I want to eat food.”

Tom and Harry tried to stifle grins; B’Elanna closed her eyes and sighed with impatience.

Tom gently corrected her. “No, what we mean is that Neelix cooks here… and this is our home.
Although his… er,… food is sometimes quite different from what any of us have known before,
and…”

“I have never known food. Will I like it?” She looked down at the plates that they had in front
of them. “Is that food? Why does it look different here.. and here… and here…” she said as she
pointed to the three items on their plates.

“We like a little variety in our lives,” said B’Elanna in a tone that was almost neutral for her.
“We call this pasta,” she said as she pointed to something that looked like white strings; “this is
argulian squash,” she continued moving over to a sliced green substance. “And this is… I don’t
know what it is; what is it, Tom?” she concluded by indicating a pile of round brown… things.

“I think Neelix referred to them as ramthurn. Tastes like chicken.”

“Will I enjoy this taste?”

“If not right away, I’m sure you will learn to… appreciate certain sensations associated with
eating,” said Harry. “Would you like to try something?”

“Yes. I think I would like some of the white strings.”

“Pasta,” Harry stated.

“Yes, pasta.”

“All right.” He turned and gestured towards the serving area. “We go over there to get our food,
and then we’ll come back over here and join Tom and B’Elanna.” He quickly glanced at them to
make sure that his self-invite was all right.

“Sure,” said Tom; B’Elanna glowered.

As Harry and Seven walked over to the serving area, she said to him, “Lt. Torres does not want
me there. She seems… possessive of Lt. Paris.”

*Uh, oh,* thought Harry. *How do I explain ‘that’ to her?*
“It’s not you, Seven. It’s just that… well, after their traumatic experience with the shuttle
accident, Tom and B’Elanna have realized that… they have discovered that… um… they have very
strong feelings for each other. They want to take care of each other and do special things
together.”

“They are forming their own collective?”

Harry tried to keep a straight face. “Not exactly like the Borg collective, but they… want to
understand each other better and share their feelings and experiences.”

“You have said… ‘feelings’… what are feelings?”

Harry knew that he was really getting into deep water now. He relished the fact that Seven was
letting him teach her, but… oh, boy… let’s see… “As you learn more about your human side,
Seven, you will understand that sometimes certain things… or actions can’t be described or put
into logical terms; you just have to experience them. It is something that comes with being an
individual; each person has different experiences… feelings.”
“Mr. Kim, do you have strong feelings for anyone?”

That deep water was rapidly closing over his head. He started to answer when Neelix’s friendly
voice welcomed them. “Why, Mr. Kim, Ms. Seven … good to see you this evening! And what
could I help you with? We have a lovely selection of items on the menu…”

“Mr. Neelix,” Seven said, her wide eyes staring thoughtfully into his, “I am going to try… to eat…
food. I would like some…” She looked at Harry, trying to remember the word. *Pasta,* he
whispered. “Yes… pasta,” she repeated. A beaming Neelix placed a steaming mound of the
substance on her plate. “Thank you,” she said, remembering her lessons in kindness from the
Captain and taking the plate he offered her. Harry settled on the same, also getting some of the
qxerneberry pie that actually looked
appetizing.

They turned to walk back to their table. Seven stopped suddenly, looking at the couple already
seated there. B’Elanna was talking with animation, as usual, when Tom interrupted her, reached
out and caught her gesturing hands between his. Her look suddenly softened, she ceased talking
and a smile formed on her lips. She looked down, as if he had said something embarrassing, and
they both started to laugh softly. He lowered her hands to the table, and slowly released them.
She raised her right hand, and gently laid two fingers on his lips. He made a furtive glance, and
saw no one in the immediate vicinity looking at them, and kissed her fingers. Her smile
wordlessly responded.

Harry intently watched Seven’s observation of this little scene and knew that another question
would follow.

“What are Lt. Paris and Lt. Torres doing? I thought that we were supposed to eat in this room.
They are not eating.”

Harry nervously cleared his throat before answering. “Well… they are being polite, and waiting
for us to return, so that we can all eat together. And, I guess, while they are waiting they are
talking and…”

“They are talking? But they are also touching each other… I have not noticed this touching
among others. Is it part of the strong feelings?”

Satisfied with her analysis and wishing to end the conversation before it became too much for
him, Harry said, “Yes, you could say that… now, we better join them and eat. I’m starving!”
Seven looked at him. “Mr. Kim, you do not look as if…”

He cut her off. “Seven, please call me Harry. Remember, Captain Janeway wanted to identify
you by a shorter… designation than ‘Seven of Nine’… I would like to be called by a shorter name,
too.”

“I understand… Harry,” she responded as they reached the table.
B’Elanna’s expression was not quite as hostile as it was when they had first arrived. Harry
remembered some manners from a seemingly-distant past and pulled out the chair for Seven to
sit.
She looked at him strangely. “Why are you doing that?” she asked.

“Um… well, you are a woman… and this is something that a man does for a woman… when he
wants to be kind.”

“Oh. All right. Thank you… Harry.”

An unnatural, unexpected silence quickly fell over the foursome, as if someone was waiting for
the hostess to take a first bite. They were glancing at one another. Finally, Tom broke the
silence. “So… this is your first meal, Seven?” And suddenly, the resident trio realized the
problem; Seven didn’t know how to proceed!

Harry picked up on the cue quickly; he twisted some of the pasta around the tines of his fork,
and delivered the food to his mouth. Then, he placed a fork into Seven’s right hand, and repeated
the movements. She opened her mouth like the baby bird she was and accepted the rather large
mouthful. He was showing her how to chew, and then told her to swallow it. *How strange this
is… teaching someone how to eat!* he thought. But, as with everything else, Seven proved to be
an astute student.
The Starfleet trio tried not to watch her expressions as she experienced the multiple sensations
of the simple task. She chewed slowly, as if wanting to remember every nuance of the action.
She reacted with surprise, as swallowing occurred as a reflex, and she looked up at her
companions. “Interesting,” she stated, trying not to show any reaction to the feat. However, she
hastened to attempt another bite of the substance. She accomplished the act with no difficulty,
and soon was keeping pace with the others.

Harry noted that they had not gotten anything to drink. “Would you like something to drink?” he
asked, as he got up. Seven immediately associated the action with the “kindness” talk she had
received from the captain. “Yes… that would be kind,” she said. He made his way back to the
serving area.

“So… it seems like you and Harry are becoming friends,” Tom offered as a bit of small talk.

“He is… kind,” she responded. She looked at him and B’Elanna, who were once again sharing a
secret shared gaze. “Lt. Paris, Harry says that you and Lt. Torres have… strong feelings… for
each other. What is that?” The couple immediately blushed.
B’Elanna, back in her defensive mode, muttered, “Harry has been talking too much…”

Tom quietly, quickly put his hand to her mouth. “B’Elanna and I do share… feelings for each
other that are quite different than what we feel for others.”

“You do not feel for other people?

A sigh came from B’Elanna. “Oh, no… but, well, it’s the sort of thing that happens between… a
man and a woman… sometimes. They feel a special… um… bond that separates them from the
others.”

Seven repeated her previous observation. “You are forming a collective.”

Tom laughed. “Well, maybe someday we’ll be adding to just the two of us…” he felt a swift kick
from his “beloved” under the table. “I mean… we have formed our own unit, but we are still part
of the whole… the crew of Voyager. With humans, such units within the whole are normal… and
expected.”

She saw Harry on his way back. Quickly she asked, “Has Harry formed… a unit… with a female?
He is… very kind.”

Panic crossed B’Elanna’s face, as she instantaneously knew that Seven was becoming human all
too quickly. She started to speak, but again was quickly cut off by the gallant Paris.

“Harry… has a special friend back on Earth. Perhaps you could talk to him about her.”
B’Elanna’s expression quickly relaxed, as she shot a thankful look at Tom. For once, his way
with words with women came in handy! However, a dark shadow overcame Seven, the first
indication either of the duo had noticed of any sense of emotion in their new crew member. “I
will,” she said, her voice still firm, but not as strident and confident as it had been before.

Harry was beaming as he returned and placed two steaming mugs on the table. “We might as
well start things off right: Klingon coffee!” He winked at B’Elanna as he said it. “It’s a real
energizer.”

She followed his lead and raised the mug to her lips. She quickly jerked it away as the hot liquid
made contact with her mouth. “Oh!” was her startled response, as she tried not to spill any of it.
“That was…”

“Hot…” Harry apologetically said. “I’m sorry; I should have warned you.” She had put the mug
down and was holding her hand to her full lips. “Are you all right?” he continued, as he raised
his hand to her lips. She looked at him in a confused manner, as she recalled her earlier
observation of a similar action between Tom and B’Elanna. The ensign promptly realized his
faux pas and pulled his hand away. Her eyes looked at him quizzically, trying to comprehend
the series of actions and emotions he was trying hard to disguise.

It was now the chief engineer’s turn to try to salvage a delicate situation. “Did you enjoy your
first meal?” she bravely asked.
Seven looked at her plate, which had only a few strands of pasta left on it. “It was… a different
way of… assimilating energy. Not as efficient as using my alcove, but… I am
learning more about humans this way.”

B’Elanna continued. “Yes, we ‘humans’ like to use our meal time to… socialize. I guess this is
the time when we become more like a collective. It’s a time in which we share our thoughts and
experiences.”

The doors of the turbolift opened, and Captain Janeway got off. She immediately saw that Seven
was there. Her smile beamed its thanks to the three younger officers who had obviously offered
their hospitality to the woman. The captain went over to the serving line and quickly strolled
over to speak with them.
“Seven, I see that you are in good company this evening.” Her eyes fell to the almost-empty
plate in front of their newest crew member. “And I see that you have braved Voyager’s cuisine.”
Seven looked at her, again not understanding the in-joke about the ship’s food. “I did not know
that one had to be brave to eat,” she said. The mutual laugh came from all around her. “No… I’m
sorry, I don’t mean to confuse you. It’s just that… sometimes the food is not what we expect.”

“I found it… acceptable,” she said.

The Captain’s face corrected itself. “Yes, Mr. Neelix’s food is acceptable… Do you mind if I
join you?” Nods from all invited her to the group. Harry hurriedly got up and moved another
small table to adjoin their already quite crowded one, adding a couple of chairs as he was at it.
He held out one of the chairs for his captain, and Janeway took her place.

An uneasy air hung over the group once more. The captain noted that there was definitely a
thread of tension between B’Elanna and Seven, although it seemed weighted towards her chief
engineer. Harry was fidgeting nervously, and Tom’s smile
appeared a bit more cheerful than it should be. She began to have second thoughts about
inviting herself to join them, as if she were eavesdropping on a definitely private conversation.
She was just about to excuse herself, mentally fumbling with an apology, when once again the
turbolift doors opened for yet another arrival to the mess hall — Commander Chakotay appeared
as the doors slid open; he strode over to the table.

“Captain, could I have a word with you?” he said in a neutral tone.

“Certainly, Commander.” She tried to hide her sigh of relief for the welcome justification to exit
herself, although his demeanor was not a welcoming one. She got up, picking up her tray as she
rose. “Please excuse us; it seems that duty calls…”
They moved to another table, away from any of the other crew in the mess hall, but still within
view of the younger officers and Seven.

All action in the large room abruptly seemed to freeze; the only movement appeared to be eyes
of the hall’s inhabitants focusing and locking onto specific targets: all of the crew present, save at
the two tables identified, centered on the quartet including Seven; Tom, B’Elanna and Harry
were converging their gazes on Seven; and Seven’s attention was drawn to the two seniors on the
ship… her eyes seemed glued to their actions. Her bionic left eye in particular allowed her to
notice small gestures in their actions that might have slipped past the range of normal vision.

Her study of the couple was intense. She followed them from the moment they left her table.
The captain walked a pace ahead of her first officer, not once looking back at him. He was
silent, with his head slightly lowered. When they reached their somewhat secluded table, she sat
down first. He sat at a right angle to her left, with his back to the rest of the room. He obviously
was talking to her; she started to eat, only to put her fork down and look at him, her hands and
forearms to either side of her tray. She looked at him, and started to answer. Suddenly, she
stopped talking, and lowered her eyes. She took a deep breath, then resumed her vocalization.
Again, she became silent but looked at him intently. It was obvious that he was now speaking;
his shoulders moved indicating some animation of his unseen hands and arms.

Seven’s eyes seemed intent on focusing on Janeway’s eye
movements. Suddenly, she noticed a slight change in the
captain’s eyes, as if they became covered with a film of
moisture. The senior officer quickly straightened her shoulders, took another deep breath,
forcefully blinked and sat more
upright. It appeared that both of the officers were silent at this time. She then saw Chakotay’s
right hand extend itself and cover the captain’s left hand, resting on the table. She looked up,
apparently into his eyes. Once again, he seemed to be
speaking. She nodded. He rose, walked behind her chair and pulled it out for her. She turned to
him, and for a brief second, she placed her hand on his chest. She then turned, and they quietly,
swiftly walked towards the turbolift, again with her just a pace or so in front. Both officers bore
expressionless faces; a visitor to the area would have noticed nothing unusual about their
reactions. But to the novice human that Seven was, the motions spoke volumes.

As they exited, she broke her visual contact, and the spell appeared broken. All was as it had
been only moments earlier; the usual lively chatter of the room resumed.

She looked at her companions and stated matter-of-factly, “The Captain and Commander
Chakotay… have strong feelings for each other.”

B’Elanna gave a short gasp; was it *that* noticeable? She quickly opined, “Well, they work
together very closely.
Sometimes things… well, sometimes they do not agree with each other.” She hesitated in
elaborating what most of the crew had noticed in recent weeks… that ever since the Borg-8472
incident that Janeway and Chakotay had been going out of their way to avoid each other…
almost like (was this really it?)… almost like… a lovers’ quarrel.

“They touched,” Seven further added.

Now it was Tom’s turn to add to the explanation. “The Captain sometimes touches people when
she wants to emphasize a point.”
Seven continued with her observations. “But Commander
Chakotay… touched her like you touched Lt. Torres. He has… very strong feelings for her.”

*’Out of the mouths of babies…’* Harry recalled from a long- forgotten quote. He knew that he
probably should not share what the rest of crew already surmised, but the words came bubbling
forth before he realized it. “Seven, they both like each other… very much. Yes, they have…
strong feelings for each other, but they have not told each other yet.”

“Why not?” she said with an innocence that was usually his domain. “Do they not know that it is
better to share… that to be individual is to be weak? Neither Captain Janeway or
Commander Chakotay wish to be weak.”

The logic of her comment silenced the other three momentarily. Tom finally interjected, “They
think that to admit their feelings is a sign of weakness… that the rest of the crew will find their
shared togetherness… as not being as committed to the ship and crew.”

“Singleness is not good; being together, in one mind and focus, is the best option. Captain
Janeway has taught me… how to be kind. I should teach her… how to join with Commander
Chakotay.”

Harry stammered, “Er… no, Seven… I think they need to
discover that on their own.” But, her look back to him told him that she would find a time… the
*right* time… to add to the education of Captain Janeway. Quickly wishing to change the
subject, he said, “Seven, now that we have finished dinner, may I walk you back to your alcove?”

She looked at him, her lock on his eyes never swerving.
“Harry… thank you for dinner. It was most… interesting. Now, I would like to explore something
else I have heard people speak of… what is the holodeck?”

“Harry… Harry… my friend, you’re on your own! B’Elanna and I… um… have other plans! The
evening’s young… enjoy, you two!” And he and B’Elanna quickly rose and left, leaving a very
startled Harry Kim with alone with Seven, who was looking
strangely at him. “What is the holodeck, Harry? What functions are performed there?”

Harry sighed; he knew that this was going to be a long — if not interesting — evening…

Delta Story
cmwende@compuserve.com

FEVER NC-17

Summary: A tale in which sweat, bathtubs and disobeying orders play prominent roles…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kathryn Janeway sat impatiently on the edge of the biobed as the doctor finished his
examination of her. During an inspection of the repaired breach in the hull walls of cargo bay 2,
a sudden leak from a weakened seam had subjected her to a 42 second exposure of over 100
rems of radiation. Although all Starfleet personnel were routinely vaccinated for possible
radiation endangerment, the intense amount indicated a medical follow-up.
“Well, Captain, I cannot find any evidence of internal injuries or burns. However, there does
appear to be a significant
decrease in your white blood cell count, with an equally drastic depression of bone marrow
activity. I can give you a stimulant to increase both tissues, but it will take about 24 hours to
fully become effective. In the meantime, I would like to keep you here in sickbay, in protective
isolation, as a precautionary measure. With such a severe deflation of your immune system, you
could be susceptible to infection even by nonpathogenic microorganisms, and…”

“Doctor, I cannot remain here — I have work to do! Why, I should be following through on the
investigation of this accident right now. I feel fine; I need to return to duty,” was her terse
rebuttal.

“And what would happen if you became seriously ill? Captain, I must ask you to consider the
consequences of such a possibility,” the doctor tried to plead in his most sympathetic bedside
manner.

The stubborn senior officer sighed. She knew that he was right, without even looking at the
smug expression on his face. “How about if I promise to stay in my quarters, all by myself, for
twenty four hours? You would be the only one to be allowed to enter. I could work there,
communicate with people… is this an acceptable alternative?”

“All right. But before you return, I am going to ask security to gas sterilize your area. We will
beam you from here to there, so that you are not exposed to anything going to your quarters.
And all your food and drink must come from the replicator — no food from Mr. Neelix’s
kitchen…”

She looked at the EMH and with a crooked smile said, “Well, that truly will be a sacrifice!” The
doctor’s laughter joined hers as he caught on to her joke.

“And you are to eat a balanced diet — more than just coffee and caramel brownies.”

“I’ll be good, doctor. Now, can we get this going?”

The doctor filled his hypospray with the marrow stimulant and administered it. As soon as he
was finished, Janeway hit her comm badge. “Chakotay…”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Chakotay, the doctor informs me that the radiation dose I received has depressed my immune
system, and it is his wish” (“Order!” came the doctor’s voice in the background) — she turned
and glared at the medical officer — “it is his order that I remain in isolation for 24 hours. I will
be in my
quarters, abiding by this decision, but I will be available to discuss any problems. In the
meantime, you have the bridge.”
“Understood, Captain. Can I help in any way?”

“Just keep everyone happy and all the bad guys at bay. Janeway out.” She then alerted security
to arrange for the gas
sterilization of her living area and then her subsequent
transport.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was six hours into Janeway’s enforced “imprisonment”, as she was thinking about her required
absence from her ship and crew. The latter seemed cognizant of the medical need of the
situation, and as such, were abiding by the doctor’s request of not
contacting her. She felt ignored! Couldn’t just *one* little problem require her attention?
Without the usual constant interruptions, she had whizzed through the daily reports… not that
there was anything of great urgency there. She had even logged her report on the incident and
Tuvok was now looking into the reason for the leak and its permanent repairs. She sat at her
desk, studying the space that had previously seemed spacious — now it felt like the walls were
cloying at her. Once more, she looked at the chronometer: 2140. Time was dragging…

Earlier, she had replicated herself what had seemed good at the time: a nice bowl of vegetable
stew and warm bread. She looked at the remains of her meal; she had barely picked at it. Now,
cold and lifeless and even more unappetizing, she picked up the bowl and utensils and got up to
take them to the recycler. As she walked the dozen or so steps, she realized that her legs were
weak and she felt very tired. *Must be the low number of WBCs*, she thought. *Maybe I should
just give in and go to bed.* She turned to go to her bedroom when her comm buzzed.

“Captain…”

“Yes, doctor…”

“Just checking in to see how my patient is…”

“A little tired, doctor; I’m thinking of going to bed…”

“Ah.. the replenishment is working. That is to be expected; very good! Now, lots of fluids,
too…”

“Yes, doctor; good night, doctor…” and she wearily sat down on the edge of her bed.

Another buzz. Would this ever end? First, no one calls… now, as I’m trying to get to bed,
everyone wants to chat!

“Kathryn?” a familiar voice came through softly.

A smile crept across her face. “Yes, Chakotay…”

“How are you feeling? I hadn’t heard anything form you for a couple of hours, and I was
concerned…” His voice echoed that concern; her heart felt it.

“I’m a bit fatigued, but the doctor says that’s to be expected.”
“I… wish I could be there… to help you…”

“It’s good just to hear your voice…”

“Is there anything that I can do for you?”

Her smile became wider. “I certainly could stand a backrub right about now…” She heard a
muffled cough from the other end of the communicators.

“Wish I could, but the doc would have my hide. Well… er, um… sweet dreams, Kathryn.”

“You, too, Chakotay.” Her smiled remained as she put her comm badge on the table next to her
bed. “Computer, lights out.”
She was asleep almost before the last glimmer faded out of the window.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She awoke with a start… from a dreamless sleep; from a comatose sleep. Her pulse was racing;
sweat was forming little streams, running through her hair, down her neck; her body was covered
in a sheen of moisture.

Her pillow was drenched with perspiration, and yet her teeth were chattering; she was freezing!
She grabbed for her robe at the foot of the bed, more for warmth than for modesty.

She stood, only to find that her legs were like soft dough; they could barely support her. Her
throat was on fire — water! She needed water… She managed to stumble to the bathroom… she
*had* to hold on to something! Her hands were trembling as she pushed a cup under the water
dispenser; she spilled some as she lifted the vessel and its contents to her parched lips, adding
more wetness to her already soaked nightgown. She inched her way back to the bed… she had
to… contact… someone…

Her hands hit the badge. “Chakotay…” she whispered into it, before collapsing onto the bed.

“Kathryn?” came the sleepy response. “Kathryn?” the voice said louder, with a sudden concern.

And, suddenly, he was there, beside her. He had used his
override, and entered her quarters… before he realized his error. *Oh, God…* he thought; *what
have I done?* He stood over her slumped, motionless form on the bed. He bent down and
tenderly picked up her small frame — God, she was burning up! He placed her more
comfortably on the bed, and ran his hand over her face. There was so much perspiration on it
that he had to wipe his hand on his robe. He then took the robe and wiped away the remaining
moisture. Only then did he realize what he must do next.

“Doctor,” he said as he hit his comm, “come to the Captain’s quarters, now!”

“Commander? Where you…”

“Just come,” was his commanding plea.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The doctor appeared within seconds, but it seemed like minutes to Chakotay. And the medical
officer was none too happy to see the first officer within the off limit confines of the captain’s
quarters. However, their ill leader was his first concern. He was immediately scanning her for
an update of her condition. As he was performing the task, he brusquely interrogated the silent
man standing by his side.

“Commander, why did you disobey my orders?”

“She called me… I was asleep and came over… I didn’t have time to think. I know I was wrong,
but it was an instinctive action.”

“Hmmmm… ” responded the doctor, also instinctively. The furrows on his forehead became
deeper. “How was she when she called you… when you arrived?”

Chakotay recited his findings — how she sounded weak,
plaintive; how she was almost unconscious on the bed… and how she her skin felt like it was on
fire.

The doctor frowned further, looking at the data in front of him. “Her temperature is 40.2C; our
first priority is to get that down. I will give her an anti-inflammatory medication. However, her
T-cells are almost non-existent. I feel that there is something else here other than the radiation
exposure. Ahhh… her liver enzymes are significantly increased also…” the doctor noted as he
continued his medcorder readings. Both men were silent as he proceeded with his examination.

Suddenly, he stopped. He looked at the readout display, then turned to Chakotay. His eyes were
widened with amazement… and fear. “Chakotay, there is evidence that the Captain has a prion
infection… specifically, the Jovian IV prion.”

Their eyes met and communicated their mutual horror, as they both recalled the devastating
plague due to the Jovian IV prion in the late 21st century. The epidemic had swept throughout
the Sol system, and within 8 months had infected over 15 billion people, with 8 1/2 billion
deaths. The naked DNA particles had been introduced into the humanoid populations by the
unwitting
transport of ropanites from Jupiter. Just a mention of ropanites still sent cold chills through a
person’s body. The disease, when transmitted from roparian to humanoid, was devastating, but
lacked the mortality that arose when the particle acclimated to person to person transmission.
The adapted, more morbid
communicability occurred with exposure to excreted body fluids, particularly perspiration
droplets brought on by the high fevers.

The first officer looked down at his hands, which had so recently tried to comfort his friend and
commanding officer, by wiping away the moisture from her face. He again stared into the
doctor’s eyes, his expression telling the whole story.

“Commander, I take it that you have tended the Captain, and, in doing so, quite possibly have
exposed yourself.”

“Yes,” came the soft, terrified answer.

“Hmmm… We thought we had defeated this infection 200 years ago.
However, due to its structure, it once was shown to be passed congenitally, but remain dormant
and noninvasive. It is
nonantigenic, therefore no antibodies are formed and there is no way to detect it within the
system. The radiation exposure and subsequent depression of the Captain’s immune system must
have reactivated latent particles within her. Commander, I cannot theorize at this time regarding
your vulnerability to the
particle. However, I would like to work on a neutralizing
substance. In the meantime, the captain’s quarters are off limits to all personnel except myself.
You will have to remain here, also, for the time being. Do I make myself clear?” The doctor left
no room for misunderstanding.

“Yes, doctor,” said the first officer. “What can we do for Kathryn?”

“Supportive therapy is the best that can be offered. I hate to press you into medical service,
Commander, but since you will have to be secluded here, could I ask you to care for the
Captain?”

For the first time in several minutes, Chakotay’s face
brightened. “It would be my privilege, doctor,” he smiled. “What needs to be done?”

“Submersing her in cool water, to lower her body temperature, would be a first effort. Oh, my…
perhaps that wouldn’t be appropriate to ask of you…”

“I promise not to look… after all, I’ve been deputized as a medical professional,” chuckled the
first officer.

“Hmmmm… nonetheless, if the Captain should become cognizant of what is happening…”

“Let me handle that, doctor. Let’s just get you back to sickbay to develop that neutralizing
substance.”

“All right. But there’s one more piece of business that needs to be addressed, and that is in
regards to your being here in the first place. Remember, we were trying to protect the Captain
from any outside contamination, and need I remind you, Commander, that the human body is
one big host of microorganisms. It’s a little late to try to think that she hasn’t been exposed to
your various microflora; however, I am going to administer to you an antimicrobial that should
at act at least somewhat
prophylactically. I want you to contact me if there is any change of any sort — in either of you.
Are we in agreement? Oh, and fluid replacement is important. Try to get her to drink something.
Yourself, also.” He once more loaded his hypospray and released its contents into Chakotay’s
neck.

A firm look from the EMH as he exited left no argument as to the seriousness of the situation.

Chakotay quickly summoned Tuvok, obviously awakening him. He explained the situation as
matter-of-factly as he could, and transferred command responsibilities to the Vulcan. The
tactical officer responded with his usual non-committal tone.
“Understood, Commander. Will you be quite all right with the Captain?” His question was
professional in its manner, but Chakotay could sense an underlying personal uneasiness in his
query.

“We’ll be fine, Tuvok. Just take care of the ship. I’ll be here for any questions or problems you
might have.”

“Hmm…” came the response. “All right. Please notify me of any change in your situation…”

“Yes, Tuvok,” came the conversation-closing answer.

As soon as he broke the link, he headed into the bathroom and started filling Kathryn’s tub with
barely tepid water. As the liquid poured from the dispenser, he thought back on another time of
filling a bathtub for her… with warm, soothing, sensual water… *Not now, Chakotay; get your
mind on the business at hand…*

He went back into the sleeping area and started easing her out of her robe and nightgown. She
looked so pale; her skin was almost translucent, and the sheen on it only added to its ethereal
quality. She moaned as he moved her arms, extricating them from the sleeves of the robe. He
gently rolled her over, and pulled the robe off. The heat radiated from her sweltering body; its
effect startled him. He delicately pulled the straps of her nightgown off of her shoulders, sliding
the garment’s soft material down her ravaged body. *Forgive, me, Kathryn,* he thought, as inch
by inch her naked form appeared before his eyes.
With a combination of his long-hidden love and admiration for his captain, he picked her up, to
take her into the waiting, healing water. She seemed unconscious, but her arms weakly reached
up and encircled his neck. “Chakotay…” she whispered. Her arms felt like hot tongs around his
neck.

He leaned his face into her hair, as he moved her. “It’s all right, Kathryn; I’m here.”

“I know,” came her feeble response.

“Kathryn, I’m going to put you into some cool water. It might startle you at first, but hopefully it
will help bring down you fever.”

“Mmmmm… fever…” she uttered.

They reached the tub. As he slowly lowered her into the water, her eyes fluttered open
momentarily. Her body tensed as it came into contact with the water. “Cold… ” she said. “Yes,
it’s supposed to be,” he answered. “All right…” she answered, her eyes again closing.

She relaxed as she became fully submerged. He found a sponge, and started squeezing the
cooling liquid over her face. Again, she murmured her understanding of the action. She started
to slide into the water, and he quickly pulled her up. “Oops! Can’t let you go under,” he
chuckled, as he knelt beside the tub, holding on to her. He continued his ministerings, with one
arm and hand firmly holding her in place, while continuing the sponging with the other hand.
The water was warming up as the heat transferred from her body to its body. Chakotay stopped
momentarily to drain some of the water, and added some fresh, cool water to replace it.

He continued his chore for another 20 minutes, never tiring of his labor of love. It seemed that
the bathing did have an effect; her body felt cooler. He drained the tub, and wrapped Kathryn in
a large towel, gently patting her pink flesh, now dimpled
somewhat from the drying effects of the water. He carried her to her bed and released her from
the towel’s covering. He started to pull the bedcovers up over her exposed limbs and torso, but
remained there for a few seconds, mesmerized by the now calmed figure of his Kathryn… so
exquisite in its beauty, so vibrant in it womanhood… so vulnerable in its weakened condition.
As he covered her, he realized that tears were streaming down his face. He sat down on the floor
next to her bed, and laid his head down next to her. He fell asleep, whispering her name.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He awoke suddenly, as he felt a hand on his head. The hand’s touch felt panicked, as if trying to
discern what it was laying upon. The motions calmed, comprehending the feel of its
surroundings. It stopped, but stayed in place, seeming to draw strength from that recognition.

“Chakotay…” came the voice from the bed.

He immediately sat upright and half rose. “I’m here…”

“I’m thirsty…” she said.

He groaned; he had fallen asleep and not followed through with the doctor’s orders. He
immediately went to the bathroom and brought back a cup of water. He reached under her with
one arm, giving her some support as she sipped the welcome liquid. He felt that she was again
warm, but not as much as she had been when he first arrived. She continued drinking with small,
slow sips, savoring the refreshment.

Chakotay continued the support with his arm, his hand firmly holding her underneath her arm.
His fingers were pressing gently into her body. She twisted somewhat, as if his touch were
bothering her. It was then that he realized that he was feeling small nodules under his fingers —
swellings that he knew had not been there earlier. They were firm, palpable nodules.

He waited until she had had her fill of the water, then said, “Kathryn, I need your help.” She
opened her eyes and looked at him with an unfocused, glazed expression.

“Wha…what is it?” she said groggily.

“Kathryn, I feel some nodules under your left arm. Does it hurt when I touch them?” He gently
rolled his fingers over the
distended areas.

“No… yes, a little…” came her feeble reply.

He moved his hand to feel under her right arm. She laughed a pathetic little twitter, “That
tickles,” she said. He smiled to himself, at her unknowing bit of comic relief. Yes, they were
present there, also. He reached his hands up to the mandibular junction on either side of her face.
A gentle massage did not reveal any swollen nodules there.

“I’m going to have to check your groin area, Kathryn; do you understand?” Her head nodded its
assent.

He once more pulled back the body shielding materials of her bed linens. In his dreams, he had
envisioned touching this inviting flesh, but not in such a cold, investigative manner. Yet, his
hands took on the gentle touch of the lover he had hoped he could be to her someday, as his
fingers found their way to the area. The soft down of her pubic area caressed his fingers as they
continued their mission. He tenderly probed, feeling nothing. A low moan came from her. But,
he noticed, this sound was not like the sounds he had heard her from her earlier. He shifted his
angle, and examined the other side. Again, nothing. But, her response was repeated.

“Chakotay… what???” she managed to get out.

“You’re sick, Kathryn. You have some swollen glands, and I was checking for any other affected
areas.”

“Yes… all right… you, you… that felt… good.”

His heart jumped. *You can’t even begin to know how good it felt,* he thought, straightening
himself and looking down at her. Then, he chastised himself for allowing such thoughts to enter
his mind at this time. Her eyes were once again closed; her breathing had become more regular.

He looked at the chronometer. It was 0430, four hours since her initial call to him. He sighed,
and contacted sickbay. He knew that the doctor would want to know of his findings.

“Doctor, I hate to bother you, but I did want you to know that the Captain’s temperature has
lowered somewhat. She has drunk about 300 ml. of water and seems to be resting better. But, I
have discovered some swollen lymph nodes, in the axillary
areas…”

The doctor interrupted him, suggesting that he check other external node areas.

“I’ve already done that, with negative findings.”

“That discovery actually is a sign of progress; it indicates that her immune system is well on the
way to recovery, and operating properly by immobilizing the particles.” There was a silence
from the doctor, as he was obviously processing the actions that had progressed to produce such
a report.

“Good work, Commander. Perhaps you could think of sickbay as your next assignment… that, or
the brig…” The statement brought a nervous chuckle from the first officer. “My work here is
progressing. I am trying to develop an inhibitory substance that can be introduced into the body
in a way that will
essentially ‘trick’ the DNA particles. I will let you know when it’s ready. How are you doing,
Commander?”

“I’m fine, doctor. It’s the stress, more than anything else.”
“Welcome to the field of caretaking,” was the medical officer’s snide comment. He once more
became solicitous of Janeway’s condition. “Try to get her to drink something more. Perhaps you
could try some juice next time.”

“Understood. And… thank you, doctor.”

Chakotay sighed deeply as the communication was broken. He looked down at himself —
standing there in his commanding officer’s quarters, very unofficially clad only in the robe he
had quickly thrown over his form when she had called. His body ached from the unnatural
position in which he had been sleeping, and he, too, had become quite sweaty with his efforts of
caring for this woman. But, he was now quarantined to her quarters, with nothing else to wear.
For a moment, he thought about going to Kathryn’s closet, looking for something that he could
change into. The evoked image brought a laugh to his lips — first off, his right leg alone would
probably fill anything of hers, as small as she was. And, well — he had no underwear on!

He once again checked on Kathryn. Noting that she seemed to be sleeping soundly, he decided
that at least a shower was in order. God, was she going to be surprised when she came out of her
delirium!

He again went into her bathroom, this time feeling as if he were trespassing in her private
sanctuary. He noticed how much it was… her. There were the Starfleet issued towels and
common toiletries, but then there was a flat ceramic tray that contained her few cosmetics, a
brush and several hair clasps. He picked up one made from carved shell, remembering when he
found the shell on a shore leave two years ago, and carving it himself. He had given it to her on
the third anniversary of their command
together; she wore it frequently. In fact, it just now came to him: she had changed her hair style
shortly after he had given it to her. Now, she always wore her hair pulled back, secured with a
clasp and allowing its flowing length to fall down her back.
Also on the tray was a small brass box. His curiosity bade him to open it; but he was, after all, an
officer and a gentleman. He put his inquisitiveness aside, and removed his robe and showered,
letting the jets of water loosen his tired muscles and wash away the weariness.

As he stepped out of the shower, he heard stirrings from the other room. He hurriedly dried
himself and securely wrapped the robe once more around his firm torso. He ran into the room,
to see that she had only rolled over, and obviously emitted some sound in doing so. This time,
he did go to her closet, to look for an extra blanket; he would try to get some sleep on her sofa.

He slid open the panel to the enclosure, and once more felt like he was trespassing. Her life
outside of Starfleet was reflected in the sparse inventory of garments he saw hanging in the
small space, a life he had shared with her only too briefly. He wondered if they would ever
share the closeness of that time again… and a cold realization hit him. What if the doctor doesn’t
find a cure… and, what if… I am contaminated, too? With this infection, there would not even be
enough time to find another New Earth… and the entire ship could be doomed.

He found a blanket, and settled down into an uneasy sleep: not on the sofa, but in a chair in the
bedroom area. He did not want to be far from her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chakotay’s comm badge chirped at him; the doctor’s voice was speaking before his senses
registered his surroundings.

“Commander, I think I have a neutralizing substance formulated. Because we have never
extracted any of the prion material, my theory is just that — theoretical. I have no idea how it
will react with the Captain. By the way, how is she?”

Chakotay stretched as he got up and wandered over to Kathryn’s still sleeping figure. “She’s still
asleep, doctor.” He reached down and placed his hand on the back of her neck. It was still quite
warm, but the drenching perspiration seemed to have
stopped. “The fever is still there, but it seems to have
broken,” he replied.

“Has she had anything to eat or drink?”

“No, not since I last spoke with you. She has been sleeping straight through.”

“I’ll be coming over in about 30 minutes. Why don’t you try to wake her and get some
nourishment in her?” the doctor suggested.
“All right. Doctor, if you don’t know if the neutralization treatment will work or not, why are you
proceeding?”

“Perhaps you have a better suggestion, Commander. If the
particles are still replicating inside her, what have we to lose?”

“The Captain,” came Chakotay’s somber reply. There was no response from the other end of the
communication.

He stumbled to the bathroom and returned quickly. On the way back he picked up Katherine’s
robe from where he had placed it
earlier. It was a tumble of wrinkles, but at least it had dried out. He walked over to the bed and
leaned down and gently shook her.

“Kathryn… Kathryn…”

She rolled over and slowly opened her eyes. They were still glazed with the fever, but she
recognized him and attempted to establish herself with reality. “Chakotay… why are you here?
Who let you in…. ohhhhh….” she again rolled over, whether in pain from the overwhelming
infection or realization of his violation of the quarantine… he did not know.

“Kathryn, you are sick. The radiation exposure seems to have activated…” he decided not to be
too specific… “a dormant infective agent within your body. The doctor believes that he has
developed a neutralizing substance and will be here shortly to give it to you. Let’s see if we can
get you something to drink and get you a little more presentable.”

She suddenly discerned that the bedcovers were the only covering she had on her body. He
smiled, and held out the opened robe in front of him, so that she could discretely slip into it.

“Do I ask how I got in this condition?” she managed to say.
“With a little help from a friend,” he grinned, with the smile hidden from her view, but not from
her ears; she could hear it. “We had to get your fever down, so I put you in a tub of cold water
and sponged you until it eased up.”

She pulled the robe around her frame, made smaller by the loss of fluid over the last 16 hours.
“I’m thirsty,” she said dryly.
“I figured you would be. Here — I have both a glass of juice and a cup of tea; you might want to
try both.”

She greedily reached for the juice, but found that she was still too weak to hold it steadily. He
guided her hand, and she started gulping the liquid.

“Slowly; your system still isn’t up to par. You’re battling both the radiation illness and a
systemic infection.”

She gasped from her overindulgence, and leaned back on the pillows. “I feel so weak…”

“And you’re entitled.”

She suddenly grasped the implications of his presence. “Why did the doctor let you in? He said
that I was supposed to be in protective isolation…”

“Last night, when you were at the height of your fever, you called me. I was half asleep, but
came right away. It wasn’t until I had been here for a few minutes that it occurred to me what I
had done. The doctor decided that once the damage had occurred, that he could use me as a
nursemaid while he did his research.”

“Chakotay, what are we going to do with the way you continue to disobey orders?” she
recountered feebly… but there was a hint of humor in her tone. She took in a deep breath. “This
is one time I’m glad you disobeyed…” She reached for the juice and finished it, and then
struggled to sit up.

“Here, let me help you,” he said, as he took her forearms and gently raised her to a sitting
position.

“You know, I really… need to… well, you know…”

He laughed softly. “And I’ll take you to the bathroom. Will you be all right by yourself inside?”

“Yes, Commander,” she said in the best command voice she could muster. “There *are* a few
things that even friendship shouldn’t be asked to help with!” Se smiled at him. They walked over
to the bathroom, and she managed to walk by herself the last few steps, closing the door behind
herself.

Chakotay made use of the time by straightening up the bed and putting up the blanket he had
used. He placed the used glass into the recycler, and moved the cup of tea over to her bedside
table. As he heard the bathroom door open, he hurried over to help her.

“Please — let me sit in the chair,” she said, as they slowly moved back towards the bed. “My
body is telling me that I have had quite enough of that bed for now.” He sat her into the large
chair, just as the door chime announced the presence of the doctor.

The doors opened, and the doctor saw her through the opening of the bedroom. “Well, it’s good
to see that Commander Chakotay’s nursing skills have been acceptable,” he stated.

She looked at the two men, one, who as a holograph looked ever- chipper, and the other, who
looked like… well, looked like he had been up with a sick child all night. The doctor
approached her, with his ever-at-the-ready medcorder scanning her.

“Your temperature has dropped to 38.9 degrees; that is much more acceptable. Hmmm… your
white cell count is up to an adequate 3000… encouraging… but the prion load is still quite high,
howev…

“Prion?” Janeway queried, her glazed eyes opening wide.

“Yes; didn’t the commander tell you?”

“He informed me that I had… an infection. But prion, doctor; isn’t that what caused the…

“The Jovian IV plague? Yes, and that is what you have, Captain,” he stated mater-of-factly. He
proceeded to explain his theory as to how she had succumbed to the particle — and his idea for
treatment.

“So, what you’re saying, doctor, is that I am going to be your guinea pig, is that it?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. Remember, we can’t get this particle to replicate in any artificial
system or in any other animal other than humanoids…”

“What about the rest of the crew? What about Chakotay? Are they safe?”

The doctor was scanning the first officer even as she posed her questions. “He still seems to be
free of the agent. I truly believe that it is your own unique system that has allowed the protein to
express itself. That is why you alone can test the utility of the treatment. Do you not agree?”
She realized that his logic was better than Tuvok’s, in this regard.

She sighed, and leaned back. “Yes. I’m tired of being tired.”
“Hmphh. Such an impatient patient,” he countered with his own word play. He opened the
medical kit he had brought with him ,and extracted the sealed vial. He cautiously loaded its
contents into his hypospray, and injected it. “Captain, I really would suggest that you lie back
down and reserve your strength. It should be about an hour before the reaction is complete.”
She looked at him as if he had sentenced her to a life sentence in a Cardassian mining colony.
“Please, Captain. The sooner you allow the neutralization to proceed, the sooner you will be
better.” She grudgingly allowed him to help her over to the bed.
As she lowered herself, she saw the cup of tea still sitting beside the bed and asked if she could
drink it first. “By all means,” the medical officer agreed. She drank the now-tepid liquid quickly
and laid down. Shortly thereafter, she drifted off to sleep.

“My, Commander; that was quick. Did you put something into the drink?”

The first officer softly laughed. “Chamomile tea with honey — works every time!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

During the next hour, Chakotay checked in with Tuvok and
engineering. No truly urgent matters had shown up. He assured everyone that the Captain was
progressing, and that her fever, although still there, was continuing to decrease. He briefly filled
them on the doctor’s progress, without allowing to the infective culprit.

The doctor monitored Janeway every few minutes. By his fifth check, towards the end of the
hour, his expression indicated that he was not happy with what he was seeing. Chakotay walked
over to bed, where he was standing over Kathryn’s quiet form. The doctor motioned to him, to
follow into the sitting area, where they could talk without fear of disturbing the captain.

“The prion level still has not dropped. In fact, it seems to have increased. I don’t understand it;
the computer model indicated that it would succeed.” He quickly tapped some figures into a
padd he had brought with him. “Unless…” The computerized holographic medical officer
stopped short. “Oh, my. I am getting to be too humanlike… I did not include an important
variable… the transferring solution. It seems that the substance into which I suspend the
neutralizing agent must not be synthetic; I administered it in a buffered protein solution, and the
prion is recognizing this as a foreign substance and not reacting to it.” He looked into the first
officer’s eyes. “Perhaps if I extract some of the captain’s plasma, suspend the substance in it and
reinject it into her…”

Chakotay reached out for the doctor’s arm, as he was preparing to withdraw some of the precious
fluid from the already weakened woman. His sleep-deprived mind had somehow come up with
an idea. “Doctor, the agent seems to be transmitted through body fluids, perspiration in
particular. What if you suspended it in
perspiration, and transferred the combination to her skin… sort of a dis-infection, if you will. Do
you think that might work?”
The medical officer looked at his first officer as if he had lost his mind. But the more he thought
about it, the more he realized that this theory bore as much validity as any other. “And how
would you suggest we proceed with this idea?”

“I was thinking that I could run through a Klingon martial arts routine, at level 5 — that would
allow me to work up a good sweat, and then…”

“And then the captain’s quarters would be a disaster area!”
Chakotay laughed. “Only if it involves bat’laths and Lt. Torres. No, this will strictly be the
motions alone.”

“Perhaps if I sprayed the neutralizing substance on your body first… then, as the perspiration
formed, the substance could be evenly distributed in the droplets… yes, Commander; this idea
does have possibilities.”

“Then, much as I could have contracted the agent from Kathryn, by wiping off her perspiration, I
can wipe mine onto her. And the neutralizing substance will be absorbed through her skin…”
“… and into her system. It just might work. I say, Commander, you just might be medical
officer material yet. Please disrobe.” No time for small talk or second thoughts at this point in
time…

Chakotay took off his robe. With professional objectivity, the doctor switched the hypospray
angle to broad range, and started misting the substance all over Chakotay’s well chiseled body;
he might as well have been a sculpture in da Vinci’s studio, so perfect was his torso: bronze,
smooth, firm. If this was what Klingon workouts did for the body, the doctor thought about
recommending them to everyone. He finished his chore.

“All right, Commander; I’m finished. Why don’t I leave you to … er… work up a sweat. I’ll come
back in a little while and we’ll proceed with the transfer. Don’t bother showing me out,” he said,
as Chakotay was well into starting his warm-up
exercises.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chakotay had forgotten the importance of sounds in the Klingon workouts. So conditioned was
he to their every nuance, he did not realize the noises he was making. He was well into the
demanding ritual before he noticed a form in the doorway, weakly leaning against its frame,
taking in every move he made. He suddenly looked up, and straight into the smiling eyes of
Kathryn Janeway.

“Don’t let me stop you, Commander. This was just starting to get enjoyable. Although, for the
life of me, I don’t know why you would feel so inclined to participate in endurance drills in my
quarters.”

He stopped and stood in all his masculine glory, facing her front on. Even in her weakened
state, she could not help but
appreciate the beauty of the form in front of her, embarrassed though its owner was.

“Kathryn,” he gasped through his strained breathing, “I’m doing this for you.”

“You certainly are!” she said slowly, her eyes no longer glazed but dancing with delight. “Please
— elaborate, Commander.”
His breathing was slowing somewhat. He proceeded to fill her in on the idea that he and the
doctor had come up with. His body, aglow with a full covering of perspiration, was perfect,
right now.

“Kathryn, take off your robe. It’s time. I’m not waiting for the doctor.” She looked at him aghast,
her eyes wide with the surprise of his request. But she started to comply.

He walked over to her, and helped her untie the slender belt that held the robe together. He
gently eased the garment off of her shoulders and down her arms, allowing his hands to caress
her arms as he aided gravity in creating the downward flow of the soft material. As soon as the
last fiber hit the floor, he took her into his arms and held her tight. “My essence to yours. I want
to transfer every bit of the doctor’s substance onto your body. The more area that I cover, the
more quickly it will be absorbed into your system.”

He tried to press every square inch of his body against hers. He was afraid that the pressure
would be too great, with her fragile condition. Now it was his turn to react with surprise, as her
hands moved up and down his arms, trying to scoop up every bit of moisture. She started
rubbing it on herself. He took the cue from her, and started doing likewise. Their hands met on
his muscular right thigh. He took hers in his, and moved it slowly along the taunt surface,
making certain that her hand was
saturated. She rubbed the transferred sweat onto her legs. He took his hand, and repeated the
motion with his other leg, and transferred the precious liquid to her breasts. She gasped with his
touch, and guided his hand in its efforts.

They continued with their mission, realizing that the project had taken on new meaning.
Kathryn was still frail due to the ravages of her illness, but her legs were now further weakened
by another problem. Their bodies both were now completely covered with the wet byproducts of
his efforts. The perspiration was quickly drying as they stood apart. Their eyes surveyed each
other, now reveling in the natural state of their togetherness. His body was starting to recover
from its physical exertion, and was beginning to take on another kind of movement. She could
no longer stop her smile.

“Chakotay, I’m still very tired. Why don’t we lie down?” She took his hand and led him back into
the sleeping area.

“The doctor…” he started to say…

“…will be informed that you have accomplished your task and that I am now resting,” she
finished. He caught her meaning and picked up his comm badge.

“Doctor…”

“Yes, Commander… I’m on my way…”

“That transfer has been completed. The captain… wishes to… rest for a while. Why don’t you
come in … oh, say… an hour?”
“Very well. Can you note any improvement yet?”

“Yes, I would say that there is marked improvement… in her condition. One hour, doctor,” he
repeated, as she was grabbing the badge from him, and pulling him into the bed with her.
The rooms were heavy with the musky masculine odor emanating from both of their bodies now.
The warmth of their breaths added to the heaviness of the air. The both knew that the transfer of
Chakotay’s body fluids was not over; in fact, in a way, it was just beginning. Her skin was once
more hot to his touch, but this time he knew that it wasn’t due to the prion invasion. He didn’t
want to hurt her; after all, she was fighting a life threatening condition. But instinct told him
that the transfer of the neutralizing substance was working, and he continued the
exploration of her body that he had started a few minutes
earlier.

His body was once again starting to gleam with the thin layer of perspiration that was being
produced by yet another round of exercise. He was so afraid of hurting her, yet she eagerly
encouraged each move, every tender touch. Hands were exploring previously forbidden areas of
delight; lips were discovering domains of desire. Now they both shared a fever caused by a long
latent, dormant infective agent — their need and want for each.
They reached an overpowering climax of their sublimated emotions, culminating in a shared
outpouring of their voices and souls. The experience had further exhausted Kathryn, and she
quickly slipped into a light sleep. Chakotay lay there beside her, once more tenderly transferring
the sweat from his body to hers.

He finally rolled over onto his back. *This place must smell worse than the holodeck following
a team hoverball tournament!* he thought. Another thought suddenly crossed his mind, and he
quickly looked at the chronometer… the doctor would be here in 15 minutes! Should he waken
Kathryn? They really should bathe… well, no; that might destroy the action of the neutralizing
agent… he should at least shower, though… no, the doctor might recommend another “dose”…
well, the doctor was just going to have to take what he found… and he smiled to himself,
knowing that the good doctor was going to discover more than he bargained for. With that
thought, he dozed off himself.

They were both startled awake by the buzz at Kathryn’s door; it was their friendly EMH making
yet another housecall. Chakotay was immediately alert; Kathryn still appeared somewhat
groggy. He helped her up, and into her robe and then quickly put his on. He moved into the
outer room and answered the door.

The doctor came in, and tried not to indicate his reaction to the overpowering pungency that
hung in the air.

“Commander, it seems that you have fulfilled your obligation with gusto.”

“Yes, you might say that I have…” the first officer said, with a smile that further deepened his
dimples. “And, I think that you will find that our captain is feeling better… *much* better!”

The two men entered her bedroom area. She had managed to find a clean robe, and had pulled
her hair back, clasped with the shell ornament. “Doctor… you and Chakotay *do* practice
unorthodox medicine!” she said with a grin… and a sly glance to her blushing now-lover.

The doctor was scanning her as she spoke. He suddenly looked up at her, noticing the shared
glances between her and Chakotay. “And, you, Captain and Commander, seem to invent your
own methods of suggested medical procedures. Captain, I’m happy to say that the prion particles
are rapidly disappearing from your system. Another 5-6 hours, and I believe that you will be
back to normal — 24 hours, just as I predicted. Your WBCs are now up to 4,500, a good
acceptable level. Your liver enzymes are just about back to their norms also… although I do note
a
fluctuation in some other hormones. Hmmm…” He then turned to Chakotay and scanned him.
“Commander, I still find no evidence of the prions in your body; however, I would like to
continue monitoring for them for another few hours. You may return to your quarters, if you
like, but please do not have contact with anyone until I can give you a clean bill of health.” He
looked at the expressions on both of their faces and then added, “No contact except with the
Captain… and please, keep that
within… um… acceptable limits.”

Janeway approached the doctor and very uncharacteristically gave him a hug. “Doctor, thank
you for everything. Your ‘cure’ has been most effective, in many ways.”

“I’m sure,” he said, with just the slightest hint of sarcasm in his voice. He turned to her, and said
in an almost conspiritual whisper, “And, Captain… I think a bath is in order now” he said as he
left, trying not to breathe too deeply.

Chakotay turned to her and said, “Doctor’s orders — what do you think?”

She reached up and pulled his head down to hers. “Commander, I believe in following orders.”
She sought his lips as if to seal the decision.

As she started to fill the tub, this time with warm water, she said to him, “Every time I have
filled this tub… since New Earth… I have thought about sharing it with you. Granted, Starfleet
issue isn’t quite as wonderful as a custom made tub in the woods, but I always have this to
remind me of your gift.” She walked over to the brass box he had seen earlier, and wondered
about its contents. She opened it, and pulled out a small wooden object, about 3 inches long.
“From my New Earth bathtub… I rescued a piece of the wood before we returned, and made it
into a boat… the boat we never got around to making. But I have it with me… always.”

He once more lifted her off her feet and into the tub. As he climbed in to join her, he said, “And
now you have me… always.” He kissed her, as they both started washing each other.

******************* Anyone for a bath? *************************