Awakening

My version of what should have happened at the end of Resolutions.

Awakening
by VoyWriter

disclaimer: Paramount holds all rights to name and characters.
Please feel free to distribute this electronically intact and without revision.
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Kathryn arched against Chakotay’s body, felt him find his own release as well and
heard their voices soar together. She was stretched a top the length of him,
unwilling for him to slide away, her breasts still taut and aching on his hard chest.
It was firm and muscled and strong against her softness. She reveled in the feel of
their bodies together, in the unison they had found in these short months on New
Earth since they had been freed from the bonds of uniform and command.

She remembered the night they first made love as clearly as if it had been
yesterday, not some two months prior. It had been her opening, his gentle urging
forward. Angry warrior he had called himself. And her his salvation. They were
both saved now.

His breathing eased beneath her and his arm curled around her, slid down her
back to rest possessively on her rear. Her own hand drew against his face, traced
his tattoo, cupped his jaw.

Brown eyes met hers, filled with love and amusement. Her passion filled him
with joy, he had told her, and her cries of pleasure at his touch brought that joy to
face and gaze.

She pressed her lips to his mouth, her tongue finding the edges of his lips, her
tongue the edges of his own. She felt him grow hard within her again and she slid
down against him until she felt him full inside her.

Is this what it would be like? For the next ten years? The next forty? Until death
us do part? The words they had repeated that first night of finding love, certain
even then of their commitment to one another. The words he repeated now in
fervent breath against her temple. The words she pressed into his mouth and groin
with her touch.

He captured her, rolled her gently beneath him, began the ministrations of a lover
upon her body, upon her soul. She felt the abandon their passion allowed and her
cries and whimpers mingled with his groans and panting breath.

This time they did not rock to completion. There were limits even to what passion
would allow the body to accomplish, but it was the act not the finish that was of
import, the touching and closeness, not the closure.

He slipped them onto their sides, cradling her against him, wrapped within his
warm embrace and they slept, her hand upon his chest, his hands against her
back, her hair a veil that blanketed their forms.

Kathryn awoke slowly, finding awareness, pushing the hair from her face, easing
against the arms which caressed her even now. She turned her gaze into the room
and found her breath suddenly low, her vision dim.

A whisper left her lips as she found the three familiar, but long lost forms in the
brightening morning light.

Hushed and soft. “Tuvok.” And Harry and B’Elanna at his side.

She allowed herself a look at her lover and then returned her gaze to the three
who waited.

“We have come to take you home, Captain,” said the voice of friend, and to that
end now, a would-be foe.

The body spooned around her stirred and woke as well and saw her vision as his
own. He clasped her tight as if he could protect her from this inevitable fate
which would take them both away from the freedom this new life had allowed
them to embrace.

“You did not answer your comm badges and we were concerned.” Tuvok spoke
again.

No. They had been set aside along with uniform and duty. In a drawer. In a box.
Separate. Tokens instead of symbols.

She managed another whisper. “Please. A minute.”

Tuvok nodded then, set his own comm badge on the table, gathered up Kim and
Torres and led them from the room. “I apologize for the intrusion. Please contact
the ship when you are ready.”

She turned into her lover and the warming comfort of his embrace. His eyes
beheld her torment.

“Whatever you want,” he told her, his lips pressing against her temple, his eyes
closing, his breath holding as he waited for her to decide and rule.

She was silent and then spoke. There was no compromise, no quarter in her
words. They were defining. They were a declaration and a definition. “You,” she
said. “And my ship. I intend to have you both.”

finis

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