PART THREE
"There, that's the last of the artefacts," Chakotay said as he watched how the workers had packed all the pieces in the crates. "You're looking very pleased, Rojan."
"Indeed I am, Professor. It's an honour to help you supervise the exhibition at your Starfleet Academy."
"You're going to have to keep an eye on this one," Chakotay reminded him as both watched Annika Hansen work on the Primos Urn.
She was standing a little away from them, at a workbench, preparing to secure the Urn of the Potter of Primos, dubbed by all the students and volunteers as the Peace Urn. It looked more beautiful now, because of its clinical surroundings, projecting its unnatural beauty within the confines of the large science lab as a sharp contrast between ancient and modern. He had been drawn to the artefact from the second he laid eyes on it, an irresistible urge to keep looking at the images of men and women frozen for all time in dance. For a moment a image of the Goddess of Virtue, moving gracefully in the arms of the warrior, flashed before him. Indeed a Peace Urn. He still remained in awe at its beauty as he watched Annika work setting the forcefields. Annika looked impassive as she worked, and Chakotay shrugged inwardly. Annika had shown none of the breathless wonder of almost everyone who had see the urn in the last week, even when Rojan informed her that it had special powers that would heal those who looked at it. She had given the young man a cool, sceptical look, and Rojan had backed off, saying, "Then again, it's a myth." Chakotay gave a little sigh. In the last year Annika tried so hard... Then the urn drew his attention again. He had dismissed the historical records that made a vague reference to the vessel coming to life when two of same heart looked at it. He hadn't told Annika that, although she must have heard it from the students. Once - was it only two days ago? - he caught her staring fixedly at the ancient artefact.
"It looks very cool, aloof," Chakotay continued a little absently.
Rojan's voice dropped to a whisper. "Annika?"
"Annika is not an 'it', Rojan."
"I'll remember that, Professor," Rojan replied, looking a little chastised after Chakotay gave him a withering look. They approached Annika.
"How's it going?" he asked her.
Annika did not look up as she replied. "No one will be able to touch the urn, Chakotay. I've erected a primary and two secondary forcefields. Only you and Rojan will have the encryption codes. Once someone breaches the outer field and then touches the urn, he will be hit by a series of electrical shocks. There'll be enough to render the perpetrator immobile for at least five hours." Annika paused, look for a few long seconds at Chakotay.
"There's more."
"Yes. The two secondary forcefields are undetectable, even with Starfleet's most sophisticated equipment. This...information should not leave this room..."
"Understood." Chakotay cast Rojan a glance, and the young Ketarchan nodded severely. Word had already gone out that a rare artefact had been discovered on Ketarcha Prime, and in the last few days, the Council of Ordinance has had to triple the security at all the heritage sites to prevent possible plundering. There were reputed to be two more urns...
"And what about the security in the room?"
"The Security staff at the Academy will be responsible for that," Annika replied. Her mouth curved into a half smile as he touched her shoulder.
"Thank you."
"You could have done this yourself, Chakotay," she said.
"I wanted you to have a part in this. That's one pretty intensive forcefield you've created."
It warmed him to see the glow return to her eyes. She was human enough to bask in the compliment he had given her. He sighed again. On Voyager everyone simply assumed she didn't need complimenting, or reminding that she was as vulnerable to human foibles as everyone else, because she was Borg. The designation, although leaning in the last years to "ex-Borg" or "former Borg", still was not enough to eradicate the unfair discrimination in the way she was labeled. Annika simply went ahead with her tasks and expected no expression of thanks.
"It was a pleasure to work on the vessel."
"The legend says that the figures will dance of two people look at it," Rojan said softly, awed again by the beauty of the urn.
"It's a myth, Rojan."
"But, Professor," Rojan started, a little urgent in the way his eyes seemed to plead for understanding, "you said yourself that there is truth in myth..."
"Yes...I did say that, didn't I? I'm not so sure now..."
"I am certain it will be admired for its appearance alone and its historical significance," Rojan said.
"Well then, that settles it. Annika, we're done here for now. Shall we go?"
For a moment Chakotay thought Annika would refuse and elect to stay behind for an hour or two. She appeared reluctant to move away from the urn, but when he touched her shoulder gently, she nodded her compliance.
************
Annika shifted, moaned softly in her sleep, then relaxed into even breathing again. She lay on her side, facing the window. The darkness of the room was softened by the light from the moon; a stray wisp of a deep gold ray touched her face and gave it a glow of peacefulness.
Chakotay thought how she could sleep like a little child, oblivious to the world and its tribulations, yet only hours before she had responded to him with an intensity that more than anything, indicated her state of mind. She was unhappy, yet showed no signs of being deeply distressed. It was her way, and like so many individuals he knew, Annika had become just as adept at putting on masks.
He lay spooned behind her, still too alert to sleep. Tonight, he hurt her and he couldn't think of any way to undo it. She hadn't said anything, but her face creased for an instantly only, then the pain was suppressed. He hadn't been in any mood for intimacies, although he wanted to curse himself when she initiated foreplay and he frowned at her attempt when she touched him. When he saw her look he had been immediately contrite. She hadn't rejected his own overtures, and gradually she had succumbed, grown soft in his arms while he murmured how sorry he was.
In the past it had been so easy, so uncomplicated and Annika had heightened his own sexual appetite with her own generous responses, never refusing him when he wanted to make love to her. That first year... Annika had come into his life and healed in a way, his own desperate longing, the terrible rejection he felt all the years on Voyager. He had craved hopelessly for a woman whom he knew with an instinct born of the ages, he would love deeply forever. As the years went by, as the heartless teasing turned him into a frustrated man who succeeded in suppressing all his needs and went about his job learning to sidestep any intimacies he knew would be offered only to be withdrawn moments later, he no longer thought consciously of his own broken heart.
Now, he was doing
the same thing to Annika. The remorseful, conciliatory offers to make love to
her becoming more and more the norm. It shamed him and it hurt her and now, with
painful clarity, he realised how on Voyager Kathryn's advances to him afterwards
never did appease him and always, he had become wary of her gestures, always
suspecting it was merely to placate him. He was a man, and it cut his ego
deeply, although he knew that Kathryn's essential motivation was for
preservation and the need to distance herself from anything that might deter her
from her primary mission. She had always felt personally responsible for her
crew's welfare; there was no time for emotional intimacies. The establishment of
parameters and the adherence to protocol became her safety nets. He had seen on
and off the responding glow in Kathryn's eyes, but the reality was a forceful
reminder that on her side, it was something she allowed only temporarily to
inhabit her before it was whisked away somewhere
and hidden from sight.
Seven years... It was a long time for a man to go hungry. His feelings, his hopeless love had become such a part of him that it became easy to believe it wasn't there at all. He had been drawn to Annika when he noticed how she had become affectionate, how she made him feel needed in her life. It warmed him to know that at least to someone he had grown to like and admire, thought him special. Annika had done something then for which she had been carpeted by the Captain and which he had thought was an invasion of his privacy. Making a hologram of any fellow crewmember as the object of affection indicated a wrongful, intrusive action.
Looking deeper into what she had done, he had realised with a soaring disbelief then, that he could be an object of Annika's affection. It was wrong of her, but stroked his battered ego, and it also thrilled him secretly. So he basked in her goodness, in her own tentative exploration of her attachment to him. The friendship they started after he had always been so suspicious because he didn't trust the Borg deepened and he admired her readiness to be as human as the next person and cry, weep, express joy if she wanted to. In the privacy of their cabins he saw an Annika Hansen that had been hidden from the rest of the crew. She had been afraid in that last month on Voyager that she'd lose him and wanted to release him from all commitments he made to her. It was then only that he realised the depth of her feelings. His assurances to the contrary were met not with the scepticism he thought, but an almost pathetic entreaty that someone can love her and belong to her, and that someone could fulfill her needs just as he had desired for seven years to be fulfilled.
It was a good year, that first year. He could forget his own heartache, and get on with his life and be happy. He could forget the look of surprise in Kathryn's eyes the day she came to his cabin and saw him standing, holding Annika in his embrace. It had been easy, for he could concentrate on someone who loved him unconditionally.
Annika had no conditions. She loved fully, with the capacity to give wholeheartedly in a relationship that meant the world to her.
It was only that first year. Then the bubble, their cocoon of togetherness began to disintegrate. It was not Annika's fault.
They should have stopped the tradition of the anniversary the moment they arrived in the Alpha Quadrant.
They danced again, and the moment Kathryn Janeway floated into his arms, he knew with a sinking heartache that he could never forget. He looked into her eyes as they moved on the floor, and he saw in them the mirror of his love. He tried to ignore it; the rest of that evening he stayed close to Annika, and he breathed a sigh of relief when two months later, after his stint at the Academy, they could both hurry back to Ketarcha Prime.
When Annika stirred in her sleep, Chakotay trailed to the present. He nuzzled closer, hearing her moan softly before she settled into deep sleep again. Chakotay moved, careful not to disturb her and when he stood next to the bed, looked down on her sleeping form. A nerve twitched in his jaw. Tonight, like so many other nights and times in the last months, he couldn't connect, his own restlessness increased by a new and old hunger.
Sighing, he pulled on his robe and walked to the alcove. He sat down heavily, sighed again before switching on the computer. Entering a few codes, he found the files. Seven years on Voyager...seven anniversaries, seven waltzes... Kathryn swaying into his arms that first year they danced for the benefit of the crew. It had been fun then, both of them enjoying the moment, the jokes, the laughter. Then the suggestion that they do it the following year.
We need to practice for a few days to make it look better than last year, Chakotay
You
look good in white tie and tails, Commander.
Wear
the beautiful dress you wore last year, Captain...
Don't
be ridiculous, Commander. I've got to have a new dress. What will Luca Baricchi
say?
Same
time as last year, Captain?
Affirmative,
Commander
A soft cry escaped. His hands clenched convulsively as he watched the graceful Kathryn. She had always been feather-light in his arms, a weightless gliding about the floor. She was radiant... Kathryn who smiled as she looked at him and performed a fall-away picture step...
I
could hold you forever in my arms, Kathryn...
On and on the images moved, haunted him, year after year played out, each year a waltz danced to a different twentieth century song Tom Paris provided. Last year it had been "When you believe..." Chakotay's eyes closed as he tried to blot out the images and the memories while his unwilling fingers refused to obey his command to shut down the vid-com. Still they came... Kathryn as light as a cloud in his arms; Kathryn's smile as the dance ended; Kathryn moving to join her partner as if the miracle of their dance never happened.
"No more...no more..." he murmured. "No more..."
"Chakotay?"
His eyes flew open and he saw Annika stand in the entrance of the alcove.
"Annika... I - " Annika smiled, a sad smile. He switched off the vid-com and the chair scraped sharply as he rose to his feet. He pulled her into his embrace; she resisted only a moment before she relaxed against him. "Let's go to bed..." he murmured against her hair. "Let's go to bed..."
***************
Chakotay gaped at Annika in disbelief.
"What did you say?" he asked, looking up from his duffel on the bed.
"I'm not going with you."
He walked to her and gripped her shoulders with a desperate urgency.
"I need you with me, Annika. We've always gone together. We're due on Earth in five days!"
"It would be better if you went alone."
"To the anniversary celebration, you mean?"
"I mean, alone to Earth, Chakotay."
He wanted to shake her. She was resolute. In desperation he pulled her to him and held her tightly. He felt the slight trembling again like the previous night. He knew she had seen the dances, heard the music when he played the vid-com images. It couldn't have been easy on her. He knew that she knew. Maybe she had always known, especially since the last visit to Earth. She had been unhappy for weeks. But he made a commitment to her, a silent vow of his faithfulness. He didn't want to hurt her. When he held her a little away from him, he cupped the sides of her head.
"Don't leave me, Annika. I can't do this if you're not with me. I need to have you by my side - "
"For what? A safety net, as you call it?"
"Yes...no!" He dropped his hands, looked a little defeated. Annika hit at the core of his tribulation. "You know what I mean. I'll not leave you, Annika."
Annika's eyes closed. Did she look relieved at his renewed vow? Did she accept his assurance? When she looked at him again, her eyes were moist. She swallowed back the tears.
"You only need my protection. I can't do that anymore. You make love to me, yet you never connect to me, the way it was in that first year. Let me go, Chakotay."
"Annika, I made a decision three years ago. I wanted you because you - "
"Fulfilled a need, only temporarily."
Chakotay shook his head. He was making it worse, he knew. Nothing that came from his mouth came out right.
"You know that's not true. Don't demean what we have, Annika."
He pulled her closer again, tried to feel the magic that had been there before. There was nothing, except the old springing in his loins when she pressed into him. Did she do it deliberately? He felt his arousal press against her and gave a sigh.
"That's what I am to you, Chakotay. That's all I am..."
"Annika! Listen to me! I will not leave you, you understand?"
Annika gave a sigh, moved out of his embrace, and when she spoke, her voice was hollow.
"You left me, Chakotay... A long time ago. It was good, what we had. You mean the world to me, you know. I have never loved another being, never felt close to another person as I have with you. I - I felt wholly human, a complete being. I've grown... Perhaps..." Annika sighed and Chakotay looked stunned. "We need to do this..."
"Then don't leave me. We can deal with this. Just this once. I - I admit...I want to know you're there, with me..."
"I understand. Perhaps more than you know. Last year, Chakotay...a few days after the celebration, I saw you kiss her, and - and I knew..."
His eyes closed.
That day Annika had returned unexpectedly from Utopia Planitia and entered his office. Kathryn had been there, to tell him to leave her alone, that they make their final goodbyes. He couldn't help it... He was weak. He had pulled Kathryn into his arms and when their lips touched, the world exploded about them. Kathryn had returned his kisses with so much pent-up passion, so much longing, he had held her closer to him as if he would never let her go. It was their good-bye kiss. The last time they would touch. An unspoken vow that he'd keep away from her.
Then Annika came in. How long had she stood there?
They had never spoken about it and it lay like a spectre between them, mostly ignored, but always present. They had returned to Ketarcha Prime and he had been witness to her unaccustomed melancholy for weeks. Yet, he had tried, knowing how the scene in his office had unsettled her. He tried and succeeded to an extent to dispel her worries, her extreme reluctance to his attempts at intimacy in those first weeks back home. He hadn't given up and rejoiced with her the night when they made love again. He was glad, for they were close again, and Kathryn for a while at least, subsided to that corner of his heart where sometimes, when he looked at the flying condors, he missed her like his very breath.
But forbearance became more and more difficult, a Sisyphus attempt to forget...
"Please...come with me, Annika."
She relented, stepping into his embrace again and resting her head against his shoulder.
"I love you, Chakotay. I don't know if I can stop. But I can see in your eyes, it is over. However, I will accompany you to Earth. Then I ask that you must come to some decision about our future. It is necessary for my peace of mind...and yours. Whatever you decide, I will abide by it...." Annika gave a crooked little smile. "I'm accustomed to adapting..."
Chakotay held her back, but didn't release her. For endless seconds he just stared at her, weighing her words, accepting the wisdom of it. He nodded sombrely.
"Whatever I decide..."
***************