AUTHOR: Sally
SUMMARY: "Swift as an arrow and true to its mark, Right from your lips and straight to my heart, Moves me like thunder soothes me like rain, It's the sound of your voice, callin' my name"
RATING: PG
DISCLAIMER: These characters do not belong to me. The above lyrics are from Calling My Name, by Kathy Mattea, Jon Vezner & Sally Barris. The song can be found on Kathy Mattea's album The Innocent Years.
NOTE: I do not do songfic. But since I listen to a lot of music, I often find that I get ideas from the lyrics of the music I listen to. This is one of those times.
All feedback graciously appreciated – as long as it isn't of the hot kind!
It's a sound that for years has thrilled me to my soul. For an equal number of years I have had to go without hearing it. It is second only to the hum of the ship's engines, in my opinion. How that sound is produced is beyond me.
"Kathryn."
He says it quietly, and rarely when we're on duty. He has slipped up occasionally, but only in extreme circumstances. In fact, according to him there have been two instances when I have not even been present. The first he will tell me little about, thanks to the "temporal prime directive" about which I tease him mercilessly; the second was when the doctor was masquerading as myself. The doctor, it would appear, neglected to discipline for it. Perhaps he thought it was de rigeur on the bridge. But during the first case it would appear that the Captain Janeway of several years ago berated him soundly for it. The way he tells the story though, it was more because she didn't know him, believed him to be a Maquis spy, than because he used it on the bridge.
There are other circumstances. He uses it as a type of emotional blackmail at times, when he disagrees with me. It is supposed to make me stop what I am doing, to see sense. It used to work, now it does not. Perhaps it is my fault. Perhaps I became too hardened on this voyage on which we found ourselves.
And to think that this is the man who asked for me to give him some time when I asked him to call me by my name when we got stranded on the planet together.
The sad thing is that I can't recall the last time he called me by my name and not by my rank. We grew apart. He had his life and I had my solitude. After we got back to Earth he went his way and I went mine with a shake of the hand and a "Good-bye, Captain," "Best of Luck, Commander," attitude. He got a position teaching at the Academy and I got a desk job and a promotion to go with it. I would have loved to return to space, but the truth was that I couldn't face having anyone else for a first officer.
We see each other occasionally, thanks to Starfleet, but its rank we use, not name. He does not even use it as blackmail anymore. If Voyager and her crew were not known through Starfleet then even the most knowledgeable Admiral could believe that we barely know each other.
"Kathryn?"
I blink. I have become so preoccupied with my memories of him that I have completely missed his approach. The last I recall, he was just entering this lovely park and I had recognised his beautiful way of walking. He had recognised me, mouthed something remarkably like my name and begun to make his way over to my bench. Now he is right in front of me, and calling me my name.
"Hello, Chakotay," I say to him softly.
He smiles and I realise that I missed that also. "Is this spot taken?" he asks, indicating to the emptiness of the remainder of the wooden seat.
"It is now, I hope."
He takes it and we sit in silence for a while. I wonder why he's here, what I did to deserve such attention. "Chakotay, why…?"
"Kathryn, I…" he begins at the same time and we laugh. Nervously. But he has said my name again. And once again I find myself falling under its spell.
"You first," I offer.
"Had to be today, didn't it?" he says with a sad smile.
"What did?"
"The first time I get to speak with you in goodness knows how long."
"I'm sorry." For I know why today means so much to him, to me.
Today is the day I stranded us in the Delta Quadrant, twelve years ago.
"Don't be," he says. "You did what was right."
"I stranded us all on the other side of hell."
He laughs. "Was it all hell, Kathryn? There were some good times. Besides, I thought you were past the melancholy stage."
I allow myself to look at him. His eyes offer the same sincerity that I remember them holding all those years ago. "I am past it," I say. "I just revisit it on special occasions."
"If it's such a special occasion, why don't you invite us to join you?" His tone is almost accusatory and I resent it.
"Chakotay, if you just came here to heap on the abuse then you might as well walk away right now."
He lowers his head. "I'm sorry. Your assistant told me I could find you here."
"You were looking for me?"
"Yes."
We are silent for a while but I still want to know. "Did I do the right thing?"
He looks at me for a second and then, surprisingly the hell out of both of us I think, he places an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close. "Yes, you did. We all think that. I know at the time it might have not seemed like it." I feel his chin resting gently on my head. "Even B'Elanna agrees now."
I pull back from him slightly and laugh. "She would agree now," I reply. "Now that she has a husband and a daughter."
"I still remember how furious she was though," laughs Chakotay. "I wouldn't mind, but it wasn't like she had anything waiting for her back here."
"Thank you for supporting me," I say quietly. I have a strange feeling that I have never thanked him before, and I should have done.
"You're welcome."
That time had been the turning point. The moment at which I knew I would be able to trust him as a first officer. That had been a critical factor in my decision that day. Not that I will tell him that, though.
"B'Elanna's done well," he continues. "We've all done well." He turns my face to look at him. "That's your doing, Kathryn. If we had returned home as planned no doubt we'd all be rotting in prison somewhere. Your decision gave us another chance. Thank you."
His words strike me deeply. It is not something he has said before, though often the meaning has been there. With a great deal of bravery on my part I lean my head back on his shoulder.
"Thank you," I whisper.
His head comes back to rest upon mine and his arm tightens around me. "Kathryn, you were never alone. You should know better than that."
There is just one more question I need to ask. "Why today? Why did you come looking for me today? Why not last year, or the year before that?"
He sighs. "I don't know. I just know that we both got caught up in our work and as time went by it got harder and harder to confront the past."
"So why now?" I ask again.
"I don't know," he says. "I just know that I missed you in my life. Sorry."
A tear begins to fall and I wipe it furiously away. "I missed you too," I whisper.
"You're a part of my life, Kathryn. I can't escape it."
"You mean you've tried to?" I ask, feeling dread.
"What would you have done if you had been me?"
I know only too well what I would have done. I would have walked away and not looked back. For years he gave and never got back anything in return. All those feelings for me, all the time he sacrificed his personal ideals, for me. And what did I do? Nothing. I used his feelings against him, expected him always to be there supporting me. In short, I hurt him and in the process I hurt myself, subjected to myself to the years of loneliness.
And suddenly then and there I decide what I'm going to do. I'm going to make damn sure I'm never lonely again. I'm going to ensure that I never have to go for this long again without him calling me by my name.
Slowly, gently, I lift my head from his shoulders and face him. "Oh, Chakotay," I whisper. "I put you through so much, didn't I?"
"It's okay, Kathryn."
But it isn't and I tell him so. I go on further to say that I knew how he felt and that I know I used how he felt to get my own way. And finally I tell him that I'm sorry and that I want to make it up to him, that I've missed him so much, and not just as my first officer, but as a man, as a friend.
He smiles, he understands. And perhaps he's feeling a bit brave as well, because my last coherent thought is that he's going to kiss me, that my lips are finally going to touch those that say my name, the way I long for it to be said.
FINIS