Fan Fiction
TITLE: Chakotay's Holidays: Down With Love
AUTHOR: Brenda Shaffer-Shiring
RATING: PG
CODES: C, T. Future chapters will be C/T.
PART: 4/?
DISCLAIMER: Paramount will little note, nor long remember, what I do here. But
they still own the VOY copyrights, so they get a shout-out anyway.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: Thanks to Kathy Speck for an additional plotbunny or so, and
to Diane Bellomo for betaing.
DEDICATION: This story is affectionately dedicated to Bob Stouffer, a longtime
friend who once, long ago, undertook to comfort me after a painful breakup, much as Chakotay does with B'Elanna here. Though he didn't get (and didn't want) a reward similar to the one Chakotay will get in later chapters of this story, he's still a dear and valued friend.
SUMMARY: It's B'Elanna's first Valentine's Day since leaving Tom, and Chakotay
is determined to keep it from being too painful for her.
The street vendor smiled as she handed Chakotay three blood-red roses. He supposed it was meant as a conspiratorial smile, offered because she believed she knew his intentions, but he half-suspected it was really because his purchase depleted her stock to the point where she would soon be able to call it a night.
The breeze cooled him as he walked down the street, something that would never have happened on the climate-controlled starship where he'd lived for so long. But the air was fresh, and slightly tangy with sea salt, and as he breathed in deeply he decided once again that he didn't really miss living in that kind of regulated environment. The city lights wouldn't pass for stars, but they twinkled in brilliant array all the same. And though San Francisco would never be mistaken for wilderness even in this enlightened post-urban age, it had a beauty of its own, shaped by sentient minds and long history as well as innate geography.
As he approached, he noted that B'Elanna's apartment building displayed something of the same self-conscious sensibility, with its blend of clean lines and natural-rock outside walls. The wind picked up, and Chakotay thought he detected rain in its scent. He quickened his steps, as precipitation was still something he appreciated more as an observer than as a participant.
The door whooshed closed behind him, and he undid his jacket to better savor the additional degrees of warmth. Another benefit of living in a variable climate, he thought; how could one appreciate warmth when it was always there?
Preferring order and regularity, Seven had disagreed with him about that.
Seven had disagreed with him about a lot of things, actually.
He hadn't come here to think about Seven.
Stepping onto the turbolift, he called, "Sixth floor, east wing."
As it carried him to his destination, he reached inside his light jacket and withdrew the box of chocolates he'd purchased earlier. The satin that covered it was deep red, a near-match for the roses -- not that quibbles of color would have much meaning for B'Elanna. Seven, on the other hand, would have been able to tell him by exactly how many degrees of hue and intensity the colors differed. There had been a time when he'd found that faculty oddly endearing, but Seven would have been surprised to realize the brevity of that time.
The lift door opened, blessedly breaking his train of thought. He was here, he reminded himself firmly, to help B'Elanna, and not to indulge any outdated melancholy of his own.
The commlink in his jacket pocket buzzed. "Dammit." He tucked the chocolates under his arm and fumbled the device into his hand. "Yes?"
Her voice came through clearly, almost as if she were standing beside him -- which was near enough to the truth. "Chakotay? It's B'Elanna."
He snorted with amusement, drawing closer to her door. "Hi, B'Elanna. What's up?"
"You busy tonight? Miral's asleep, and I was wondering if maybe you'd like to join me for a late supper here."
He pressed her door signal.
"Oh, hell," she said, sounding distracted. "Someone's here. Hold on a minute." There was a click as if of her commlink being set down on a hard surface, and he deactivated his own, tucking it back into his pocket. Now he heard her voice, more faintly, through the synthmetal of her door.
"Dammit, Paris, I told you I didn't want--"
The door whooshed open. When B'Elanna saw who her guest was, she jerked her chin up in clear surprise.
"You!"
"Me." He offered a tiny smile. "Since I'm invited, I guess I can come in?"
"I guess."
A crooked smile on her own lips, she stood aside to let him enter. He stepped past, looking around as he did so, to see what she'd done with the place in the time since he'd been here last. In truth, she hadn't done much, but it hadn't been long since his last visit and she hadn't had much to work with. Aside from the corner where Miral's toybox and child-sized furniture sat, the living room held little beyond a couch, a low table, a few chairs, and the wooden rocking chair Chakotay himself had made as a baby-shower gift for B'Elanna, back on Voyager.
Though he was reasonably sure she'd guessed the purpose of the chocolates and the flowers, he still made a little ritual of presenting them to her, once the door had closed.
"Happy Valentine's Day, B'Elanna."
He leaned forward and gave her a friendly kiss on the cheek before extending candy to her with one hand and roses with the other.
"Oh!" She seemed surprised and a little flustered by the gifts. "Thanks, Chakotay."
"I figured," he said, fumbling for the words, "well, I figured you were entitled to a little something after -- well, everything."
And I didn't want you to spend this holiday of all holidays sitting around feeling alone, he thought but did not add. The popular Terran celebration of love and romance *would* have the cosmically bad timing to take place a scant few weeks after B'Elanna had left her husband.
"Thanks," she said again, and the look in her eyes made him suspect she heard the words he hadn't said as clearly as the ones he had. "You're a good friend, Chakotay."
"I try," he said, trying to let his tone lighten the moment.
"And to think that here I was, hoping I could distract *you*." When he blinked his incomprehension, she elaborated, "I know this is your first Valentine's Day since you and Seven broke up. I didn't want to see you spend it alone." She walked over quickly to lay his presents on the low table, then returned to give him a hug. "I just wanted you to know that some of us out here still think you're a great guy, and she's an idiot."
Surprised and moved, especially that she had thought of him at a time when she would have had every right to think of no one but herself and Miral, he let his arms enfold her. "Thanks, B'Elanna. You're a pretty good friend yourself." He dropped another quick kiss on her cheek. "And I just want you to know that some of us out here still think you're a hell of a woman, and Tom Paris is a fool."
Her eyes brightened for a moment, but she blinked the brilliance away impatiently. "Well, as long as *you* think so, why should I let how that idiot flyboy acts bother me?"
He gave her a squeeze, and answered in the same tone. "You're right. To hell with him."
It was her turn to look him in the eye. "And as long as *I* think you're terrific, why should what that cold bitch thinks bother you?"
He snorted, feeling unacknowledged weight drop away from his heart at his friend's words. "You're right. To hell with her, too."
"To hell with both of them." She loosed him then, and regarded him with a small, defiant smile on her full lips. "In fact, to hell with love. Why don't you join me in the kitchen, Chakotay? We'll a drink a little toast before supper. To friendship."
"Sounds good to me." Every romantic relationship either of them had ever had ended up shipwrecked sooner or later, but their friendship had carried them through every storm. To friendship, indeed.
Shaking his head, smiling himself, he followed her to the kitchen.
