Title: The Tenth Year

Author: Christine

Rating: PG - 13 (some allusions to sex - very small allusions!)

Disclaimer: I am not making any money out of this and suing me would be an HUGE waste of time.

 

Thanks Lin for betaing my ever increasing pile of crap.

 

 

The Tenth Year

 

 

The Seventh Year.

 

"And may we all be home before the year is out".

 

I hold my champagne high glass so it catches the light. The room resounds with applause, voices echoing my sentiments shouting 'here, here'. Friends and lovers embrace and pat each other on the back.

 

We do this every year.

 

Every year on the anniversary of the destruction of the Caretaker's array we gather so that I can extol our accomplishments and mourn our losses. Every year we applaud our efforts and remember our mistakes and hope beyond hope that this year will be the last. That this year is the one that will get us home.

 

This is our seventh year.

 

On Voyager there are many cultures and many traditions, but this one has united us. This one fuels our enthusiasm and reminds us that no one, least of the entire Captain, has given up trying.

 

I make my way into the cheering crowd and let my eyes wander over the assembled crew letting them rest on the beaming faces of B'Elanna and Tom. This year they are our proudest achievement. Their wedding moved most of the crew to tears including the celebrant. I blew my nose so much during the ceremony that I had to later fight off the Doctor, who was convinced of the necessity to treat me for a cold.

 

I sidle over to Tom and let my hand rest lightly on his.

 

"You made our year," I say.

 

"And my life" he replies.

 

His words are touching but I do not linger . Instead I continue to circulate and let my eyes wander over those present. It will be time to leave soon. Time to leave the crew to let their hair down without the intimidating glare of the Captain present.

 

I look forward to this escape. I look forward to it every year.

 

I finally spy the object of my search. He is caught between Neelix and the Doctor who are heartily engaged in a debate I cannot hear but can well imagine.

 

He meets my eyes and I raise my glass.

 

And wink.

 

I am aware that the action is highly uncharacteristic of myself and possibly liable to fuel rumours that I have had more than my share of the champagne, but there are some traditions not shared by the crew.

 

Some traditions are shared by two.

 

It had started on the second anniversary. Really it had started on the first but the need for secrecy and signs was a result of events that occurred in the second year.

 

In the first year we had agreed, Chakotay and I, to exit the celebrations at an appropriate time leaving the crew less intimidated by their commanding officers and able to partake of the celebrations with more abandon.

 

However, by the second year the tension had set in. I can't remember how it happened but I certainly remember when. It was that damn planet. That damn virus.

 

Things were never the same after that.

 

A degree of paranoia coupled with my grim determination to uphold Starfleet protocols no matter what the cost to my personal life, made me insist on discretion in my affairs with the First Officer.

 

He agreed to it because he'd only known me three years but in those three years he'd learnt that it was fruitless to oppose me in these matters.

 

He'd learnt defeat.

 

It was a sort of whimsical gesture. A small compensation for the seriousness that surrounded our dealings with each other.

 

It was also recognition of the levity of the occasion and evidence of the fact that I had probably had one more glass of champagne than was my usual.

 

I had winked at him.

 

I had suggested that we meet on the crew's anniversary but that I would signal him so that we could leave separately and arouse less suspicion.

 

He had laughed uproariously when I had finally arrived at his quarters.

 

"It was worth it!" he had said as tears threatened to spill out of the corners of his eyes.

 

I had never seen myself wink. I practiced later in my bathroom mirror, wondering what had so tickled the Commander. I looked flirtatious. I wondered if, unconsciously, that had been my intention.

 

 

The wink returned year after year even after the need for it had vanished. Even after the remote possibility of a liaison between the Captain and the Commander was long forgotten, there was that wink. A reminder that things could have turned out different.

 

And on this, the end of the seventh year, I wink once again at the Commander who offers a knowing smile in return. Later I notice him move towards the entrance, discreetly exiting, as is the tradition. I follow him later, edging out the door when I hope no one is looking.

 

I still smirk in the hallway when I have accomplished this feat, knowing that after seven years of quiet escapes it is doubtful we have been completely successful in remaining unnoticed.

 

It just isn't so important anymore.

 

When I arrive at his quarters he feigns caution and leans out into the hallway to take a long look in each direction.

 

"Are you sure you weren't followed?" he says, barely able to contain the laughter toying with the corners of his mouth.

 

I push past him shaking my head at this joke.

 

"I need a drink," I say. A bottle of wine sits on the table. I help myself to a glass and sink into his couch.

 

He sits down beside me

 

"A long day?" he asks.

 

"A long year!"

 

"It is every year".

 

"That it is".

 

I sip my wine thoughtfully. Seven of Nine nearly died, B'Elanna and Tom were married, I finally promoted Harry, and we beat the Borg, again. I am in danger of becoming at ease with the extremity of events aboard Voyager. Nothing is ever routine or mundane.

 

I recall that as a cadet at the tender of age of eighteen this is exactly what I wished for.

 

I smile a little at the irony. It's not quite as glamorous as you imagined is it, Kathryn, I think.

 

"Something amusing you want to tell me about?" says Chakotay interrupting my reverie.

He is smiling too. He looks so comfortable sitting beside me, twirling his wine glass clockwise, anticlockwise, clockwise, anticlockwise.

 

"Nothing important".

 

Uninvited the thought crosses my mind that he is extraordinarily attractive. His smile illuminates the subdued contours of the room and his stern face, the one he wears when troubled or concerned, has doused my own fiery temper from time to time.

 

These thoughts are not new. They occur periodically, randomly, maddeningly.

 

With some effort they dissipate. Nothing new.

 

There are, of course, times when such thoughts are harder to dispel than others. This is one of them.

 

"How much have you had to drink tonight, Kathryn," he asks.

 

I am caught off guard, pouring myself another drink. Three? Four? Five?

 

"Why do you ask?"

 

"Because your cheeks are flushed".

 

Admittedly, my face feels warm. On a good year I am inclined to celebrate a little heartily. Any rules regarding the sobriety of a Starfleet Captain are no doubt written for situations that differ vastly from ours. I don't feel guilty about indulging from time to time.

 

Just a little self conscious when the First Officer notices.

 

I raise my glass slightly letting it touch his for a diminished toast.

 

"Let your hair down a little, Chakotay. Who knows what the next year will bring".

 

He pours another drink and lifts his glass to mine mimicking my gesture.

 

"May we all be home before the year is out" he says softly.

 

 

It is late when I decide to leave. I go to stand up and notice that my legs are not the surety of support I expect them to be. I teeter slightly and Chakotay springs to my aid.

 

"Steady Captain" he says, " We can't have you tottering down the hallway for the night shift to see, can we?"

 

I laugh. It would appear that I am not quite the alcoholic stalwart that I was in the Academy.

 

"That was synth-wine, Commander, wasn't it?"

 

He grins and nods.

 

"Only the best for the Captain."

 

He places a hand in the small of my back and guides me toward the door. I notice that his steps are not as confident as his manner. He is certainly not as sober as he believes himself to be.

 

It is inevitable that it should end in injury. I am unsure how it happened but our inebriated limbs manage to cross each other resulting in a large tangle that winds up on the floor of Chakotay's quarters moaning in pain.

 

He falls across me narrowly missing my head and knocking the wind out of my lungs. He lifts himself up onto one hand immediately noticing my attempts to gulp in enough air to regulate my breathing once again.

 

"Are you OK?" he says once I have regained my composure. 

 

I nod and then feel the laughter rising up from my belly, which is still buried underneath him. Before long it is spilling out in large quantities and my shoulders are shaking with torrents of mirth.

 

He laughs too.

 

"A perfect end to a perfect evening, wouldn't you say?" he says and he grins at me, smiling eyes glowing straight into mine and feeding the warm, enveloped feelings induced by the wine.

 

For the first time, I notice how close he is. Our faces are barely centimetres away from each other and our eyes are locked. I can feel his breath lightly breezing across my face. He smells a little like wine and a lot like Chakotay. A delicious and heady smell that clouds my senses.

He is so close!

 

We are no longer laughing. He leans forward narrowing the tiny margin between our faces.

 

I close my eyes.

 

And his mouth is on mine, soft and warm and lingering. I tilt my head back inviting him closer.

 

The kiss becomes urgent. He grasps my shoulders pulling me into him. His hand breaks away and caresses my back, my hip, my ribcage and .........

 

Dear God, what am I doing?

 

Both hands push him away with a force that topples him onto his back. I scramble to my feet.

 

He is still on the floor as I run to the exit, a look of confusion and shock marring his features. I imagine that he is still in such a state as I tear down the hallway to my quarters.

The Eighth Year.

 

"And may we all be home before the year is out!"

 

"Here! Here!" they respond although my toast lacks its usual enthusiasm. This year was the one that nearly destroyed us. The one that made me think that it might just be our fate to end our days in the Delta Quadrant.

 

There were times, I would never admit to anyone, when I thought my unflagging resilience that had driven me across time, across space, might just be exhaustible.

 

We were betrayed, brutally and unequivocally. The ship was lost. Lives were lost. However, where the ship could and would be reclaimed the lives were gone to us forever.

 

Such a year changes everything. Everyone.

 

When I rejoin the crew to mingle it is to offer condolences rather than congratulations. Everyone lost something this year. A friend or in some cases a lover. Even Neelix who can usually be counted on for unbridled positivity is somber. He was very close to Ensign Bek who was killed in the final battle to re-take Voyager. Some said they were lovers.

 

I watch him as he dolefully carries party favours to the crew. Poor Neelix. Even his clothes are uncharacteristically dull.

 

I mingle and remind myself that it is important for a Captain to offer encouragement in such circumstances. I force my best esprit de corps smile and pat a crew member on the arm.

 

She nods at me and tries to find a smile. I continue to move amongst the crew nodding, smiling and desperately searching for the rights word to say that will lift this crew out of its darkest night.

 

I remember words my father said to me many years ago, "A Captain's success is everyone's success, but a Captain's failure is his alone".

 

I look around the room at their tired and drawn faces and know that I failed them and failed them alone and only I can turn this failure.

 

"It's not your fault, Kathryn".

 

Chakotay stands before me immediately jarring me from me from my guilt.

 

"You did everything you could," he says.

 

"It's little consolation", I say..

 

I am reminded that this is our time. Or it would have been.

 

This year has brought many losses and added to them is my private loss. That of Chakotay.

 

It seems odd that he should take flight after an incident that might have caused another man hope rather than despair. But then I know it is not he who is to blame.

 

Had I not pulled away, shut down. Had I not been so scared of my own inability to maintain control that I had enforced the strictest limitations on our personal interaction, I might have prevented what I saw as the final disintegration of what had been a most precious relationship.

 

For Chakotay had fallen in love.

 

It was not unusual to hear of an Ensign or crewmember had who taken a shine to the Commander. He has that manner of making a person feel that his relationship with her is unique that attracts the novice romantic.

 

And it would seem that for one particular Ensign this attraction had not been misplaced. I saw them together when I entered the mess hall. Her arm was slung loosely in his, possessively. I was reminded that I often took Chakotay's arm in mine in a similar manner. A promise of possession that I never kept.

 

Of course, I could not blame him. After the past year I should have expected that Chakotay would look for the comfort I could not, would not give him.

 

It was just that tonight ....... I really did not want to be alone tonight.

 

"Are you OK Kathryn" he says.

 

"I'm fine," I answer just a little too quickly. He shifts uncomfortably, absorbing my answer and deciding how to respond.

 

"Well" he says finally, "I was wondering if you would mind forgoing our ritual tonight Kathryn, you see," and he nods in the direction of Ensign Barod "I think I should probably spend tonight with Nesa".

 

"Of course." I say as I nod and stare at the floor. He does not respond and we stand there, uselessly, while we shuffle away the last vestiges of our relationship.

 

"Ummm.... well..."

 

I look up at his face expectantly. He meets my gaze for a moment then looks away.

 

"I'm sorry Kathryn," he says and he moves away.

 

I stand there dully looking at my glass. A low heat spreads itself across my cheeks and the room becomes smaller - crowded.

 

I have to get out.

 

I make a hasty exit and head back to my quarters. My eyes burn with the early formation of tears and it isn't long before one makes its way down my cheek. I brush it away, almost slapping my face in an effort to be rid of the evidence of my emotions.

 

I reach my quarters. Once inside the tears come in bursts and I struggle to repress them.

 

For God's sake, Kathryn, pull yourself together!

 

I tell myself that it has been the finale of a terrible year for me, for Voyager. It is not unfitting that I should let loose a few tears at its closing.

 

I keep telling myself that and hope eventually I'll believe it because otherwise I would have to admit that losing Chakotay, losing him to someone else, hurts more than the loss of the fifteen crewmembers who were killed this year.

 

And I do not put my personal feelings above the crew.

 

I will not put my personal feelings above the crew!

The Ninth Year

 

"And may we all be home before the year is out!"

 

"Here! Here!"

 

This year the cheer has its characteristic fervour. It would appear that this year we are cheering for a complete lack of anything to cheer about. But perhaps what inspires the crew to joviality is the absence of anything to not cheer about. Who would have thought that the mundane and routine of daily life aboard Voyager could be worth a celebration in itself?

 

I think that I should have promoted B'Elanna and Tom this year. As it was perhaps holding it over for one more year may have preserved the mood. No news is good news.

 

Even Ensigns Javitz and Carroll, who have just announced they are pregnant, seem to have chosen not to mar the even flow of the last year with Voyager's second birth.

 

Once again I circulate throughout the crew. It seems that the mood has turned to hilarity and jokes abound concerning this section of the Delta Quadrant and how it would appear to be the Quadrant's least hot spot.

 

"Has anyone checked that the ship is pointed in the right direction?" yells Tom "Oh wait, that would be my job".

 

The crew around him groan and laugh. B'Elanna punches him playfully in the arm and he feigns injury.

 

"You wait," says Harry "Tomorrow we'll come across twenty Borg cubes just waiting for us behind the next nebula".

 

"Unlikely" says Seven "a Borg attack contingent would consist of at least fifty cubes".

 

Harry's eyes go round until he notices the small smile etching its way across Seven's face. She exhibits a great deal of humour these days albeit a wry humour that still has the crew unnerved in her presence.

 

I pat Harry on the back and he smiles.

"Quite the kidder, isn't she?" I say.

 

"A laugh a minute."

 

This kind of mood makes me want to stay. Admittedly there's no reason for me to leave. There are very few if any crew who still feel inhibited by my presence.

 

And, of course, now I have no where to go.

 

I look around the room. Neelix is trying to entice Tuvok to try his latest hors d'oevres concoction. Neelix, back to his sprightly self this year, has taken up his previous mission to make Tuvok smile. To date he has not succeeded but I can't help admire his perseverance.

 

Naomi Wildman is no longer recognisable as a little girl. Having achieved a Ktarian adolescence she is a least a foot taller and her spikes are more prominent on her forehead. She has begun to look like a woman. I feel a pang of regret that she could not have stayed the little girl who wanted to be my assistant just a few years longer.

 

And then, as is habit, my eyes find Chakotay. He stands next to Nesa absorbed in whatever information she is relating. When she has finished he nods, smiles and move away to join B'Elanna and Tom by the drinks table.

 

I watch them talk for a while, debating whether I should join them.

 

Just as I make the decision to cross the floor I notice that Chakotay has shifted his attention from the group and is now looking straight at me. For a moment I am self conscious that I have been staring at him but then I notice he is smiling at me.

 

And he does the