Waiting

By Rebecca

Disclaimer: Star Trek was assimilated by Paramount.

This one is J/C, most definitely!

 

The Gateway

The J/C Monastery

Mail Me

Story Index

The Navigational Array

 

 

I'm still waiting. Ten minutes until my shuttle leaves, and I'm still waiting. Ten years since I met you, and I'm still waiting. Still waiting. Most would have given up by now, but not me.

I'm still waiting.

 

"I'm leaving Starfleet," I said. That finally got your attention, and your head snapped up, gray-blue eyes locking onto mine.

"Why?" you asked. "I thought you were happy here."

"I've been getting restless," I explained. "Starfleet isn't me, and I don't think it ever has been. Maybe for a while... maybe I was able to convince myself."

"What are you going to do?" you asked, dividing your attention between the PADD and me once more. "Stay on Earth?"

"I'm going home," I stated firmly.

"Home? To Trebus?"

I nodded in response. Despite the fact that your eyes were fixed on the PADD, you noticed. "What are you going to do there?"

"Relax. Try and get in touch with myself again. I do still have one or two friends who are living there."

"Right." You picked up another PADD and made a face at it. "And when are you coming back?"

"I'm not coming back. I plan to take up residence there."

"What in? A Starfleet shelter tastefully decorated with polka dots?" you asked almost teasingly.

"With Talaxian tomatoes and a monkey," I grinned back.

"And a bath tub?" you added, making brief eye contact as you swapped PADDs.

"Of course." I took a deep breath. "And I want you to join me as well."

Your hand gripped the PADD a little tighter, and you pulled your eyes away from it. "You're not serious. I couldn't give up my work."

"Why not? Take an early retirement or something," I suggested.

"Unlike you," you pointed out, "I happen to like my work, and don't want to give it up to live on some backwater planet."

"That 'backwater planet'," I reminded you, "is my home."

"And this is mine."

"We could make a home for us," I pointed out.

"It's a sweet idea," you sighed, "But I'm not ready for that.

"When will you be ready?" I asked, frustrated. "You always pull back."

"Maybe next week," you answered frankly. "Maybe in a decade. Maybe never." You pushed yourself out of your chair and walked over to the window. Leaning on the windowsill, you gazed out at the panoramic view dominated by Golden Gate Bridge. "It wouldn't be fair to you to try to build a life together, when I know that I'll probably beam aboard the first ship that passes transporter range."

I smiled slightly. "You're not on a ship at the moment. You're sitting behind a desk."

"No, I'm standing at a window and wishing I was on a ship." You turned back to me, apologies written all over your face. "Chakotay, please, you have to understand. I'm not forcing you to stay here. I'll miss you though."

"I'll miss you too Kathryn; more than you think."

You turned back to the window. "Dismissed, Commander."

I couldn't even answer as I walked out of the room, leaving the PADD with my departure time on the desk, wondering if I'd ever see you again.

 

The chronometer clicks on. Only five minutes left, and I'm still waiting for a miracle before I leave Earth behind me, perhaps forever. I haven't spoken to you since I told you I was leaving. I couldn't even reach you at your office; your personal assistant informed me gravely that Admiral Janeway was taking a day off.

And so, I'm still waiting.

 

Moira opened the door for me when I went to see B'Elanna. I can't believe she's only four - she looks more like six, and the spitting image of her mother. B'Elanna followed her a few seconds later.

"Chakotay!" she exclaimed. "This is a surprise! Come in, come in."

We spent a few minutes reminiscing about the past, then I told her the purpose of my visit.

"You're leaving Starfleet!" B'Elanna practically yelled, then seemed to calm down. "Where on Earth are you going to go?"

"Nowhere on Earth. Trebus - I want somewhere relaxing."

B'Elanna nodded and smiled knowingly. "Finally got it together with the Captain, huh?"

I scowled. I couldn't help it. Your outright rejection of me had damaged a few nerves, and B'Elanna had unwittingly hit them. "For your information B'Elanna, no, I have not. And she's been an Admiral for three years now. I think you could remember."

B'Elanna grinned. "To us, she'll always be 'The Captain'. But does she know you're leaving?"

"I told her yesterday. She said she wasn't prepared to give up her job."

B'Elanna looked disbelieving. "Not even to go with you? That is it! I'm calling her right now to knock some-"

I grabbed her arm. "I tried. Her aide said something about having a day off."

"Yeah right," B'Elanna practically spat. "She'd never voluntarily take a day off! I'm going over to HQ now and -"

"B'Elanna," I pleaded. "Leave her alone. She's made her decision - you are not to go and force her to change her mind. I'm an adult. I can live with it."

"If you say so," she said resignedly, but something in her eyes told me that she'd be in HQ and in your office before the day was out.

 

And I was right as well. I overheard a couple of aides discussing it the next day. Torres apparently broke your door down and yelled loud enough to be heard down two corridors. Maybe that's true, but I don't think the bit about it taking five armed security details to drag her out was true. But who knows?

Did she manage to get through to you? I doubt it, because I'm still here, waiting.

 

"Tuvok!" I called down the corridor of Starfleet Academy. The dark Vulcan stopped abruptly, causing a cadet to bump into him. She blushed furiously and mumbled her apologies before rushing off to catch up with her friends again.

"Commander. Was there something you wished to discuss with me?" Tuvok asked.

"If you don't mind, Tuvok. Were you aware that I'm leaving Starfleet?"

"Admiral Janeway did mention it in passing."

One of the things that confuses me about Tuvok: he's known you for years, and has been your best friend for well over a decade. And yet he continues to call you by your rank, as if he is only aware of you as a passing acquaintance.

"Did she... say anything else?" I probed.

"She mentioned that Lieutenant Kim is in line for promotion again, that the Defiant-A is in for repairs at Utopia Planetia and that she believes that Seven of Nine's hair is turning grey."

What sort of conversations do you and Tuvok have, anyway?"

"Oh, I - ah - I see. Tuvok, you know that I've never found it easy to come to you for help, but-"

"But you wish me to 'keep an eye' on Admiral Janeway and make sure that she does not 'work herself to death'."

"Well - yes, actually," I said, taken aback at the ease with which Tuvok could read me, although I suppose I shouldn't have been. "Would you mind?"
Tuvok sounded almost confused. "I would have done so even if you had not asked. She is my friend," he added simply.

"She's lucky to have you," I sighed.

Tuvok raised an eyebrow but said nothing further, and I walked away.

 

I guess this is it. I have less than a minute before I board that shuttle, and I'm already put it off as long as I can. The Bolian steward has been periodically hustling me for the last five minutes, but he's now busy with a family of five children.

Did you ever know how much I wanted a family? Children to raise as my own? But you've made that impossible now. I couldn't love anyone as much as you, and you're no longer with me.

I'm still waiting.

The terminal is filling up rapidly now with people coming in for the next transport. I stand up and heft my bag onto my shoulder, trying to face the facts.

You're not coming.

With a heavy heart, I walk onto the boarding ramp, looking back over my shoulder for one last glimpse of Earth.

And that's when I see it. A flash of red-gold hair at the entrance.

I must be imagining things, I tell myself, it's wishful thinking. Nothing more.

"Chakotay!"

But there's no mistaking that voice.

"Kathryn!" I yell back, dropping my bag where it is and running back down the ramp. The crowd seems to part magically before us until we fall into each other's arms, laughing and crying at the same time, oblivious to the bemused crowd on onlookers around us.

"I'm so sorry," you whisper. "I'm coming with you."

"But your work..." I murmur.

"All passengers for Transport 4189 to the Neutral Zone, please board now. This is your last warning. Please board now."

We disentangle and you ask, "Is that your transport?"

I nod. "We'd better get a move on."

"I don't have a ticket or a seat..." you protest.

"I booked you one."

And I smile. The wait is over.

 

 

End

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