OR SCORN OR PITY ON ME TAKE
by
vanhunks
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I was watching a video of
"Sense and Sensibility" and the music of the film has always intrigued
me. I wrote "Softly, Softly" [TNG P/C] which was inspired by the song
Marianne Dashwood sings, "Weep you no more, sad fountains", and also a
TNG P/C story with the same title of "Weep you no more..." Patrick
Doyle composed the music for "The Dreame" by Ben Johnson, the song
sung at the end of that film. This has inspired me to write a little J/C mood
piece.
DISCLAIMER: Paramount has first claim on the
characters of Janeway and Chakotay. They're not mine, but I'd like to think they
are.
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: This time, it is Chakotay who could never reveal his feelings. The positions are somewhat reversed. This is a mood piece.
OR SCORN OR PITY ON ME TAKE
Chakotay remembered to breathe as he stared at
the woman in front of him.
"I had to come," he said in an uneven
voice.
"Now, Chakotay? After seven years?"
Her words drifted to him. Like a judge handing
down a sentence, her voice sounded accusing. His guilt had grown from a small
pebble and burgeoned into an evil boulder that weighed him down.
"There were things, Kathryn. You wouldn't
understand."
"It you tell me, would I understand?"
"I don't know. Perhaps if I tried, they
might sound lame."
"They might," she agreed.
"It took me by surprise, Kathryn. Last
night, the dream I had...I saw - I saw..."
Words became warped instruments of torture as
his mouth tried to translate his thoughts. Were his thoughts incoherent? Kathryn
wasn't helping. Why should she? He made her suffer.
"A dream, Chakotay? A dream that tells you
what you must tell me?"
Maybe she wasn't ready. Maybe he wasn't ready.
Why should she believe him now, when seven years of teasing left half tastes,
half smiles, eager anticipation destroyed by hasty withdrawals, or negation of a
feeling, a statement of intent? Why should she believe him? It would be better
that he left again. The beach, the pristine sand, the clear blue sky and the
shades thrown by palm fronds -everything receded, even Kathryn appeared to move
away from him.
He wanted her to stay. It was a dogged
premonition that if she left, the abyss would swallow him...
He made up his mind. He brought her here to
relate his dream, and reveal its truth.
He had to tell her.
"Yes," he said, "a dream that
tells me what I must tell you."
"You allow dreams to guide your destiny,
Chakotay?"
Her words stung. He saw a brief flash of pain
cross her features; Her words struck at him; she knew that. It disturbed her.
Chakotay had an image of a time, a place when she stared at him like she did
now, and in those moments there, on another beach, he had known that she didn't
mean to hurt him. She never wanted to hurt him. There had been Joy then. Now,
that place, that time…Joy... They have wandered away into a foggy distance
where he was without anchor, flailing helplessly, his mute cries useless.
His hand reached for her. The imperceptible
stiffening of her shoulders forced him to draw back.
"I ask that you take pity on me."
"Why?"
He couldn't say it. He knew his words would
sound empty, devoid of power. He saw her turn away from him. The movement caused
the skirt of her dress to lap at her ankles; the mild breeze coaxing the skirt
so that he could see her calves. Chakotay struggled once more to breathe as the
movement fired his senses again. She was leaving. He had to…he had
to…explain…
"Don't…go…" he started, and when
she turned to look at him, he added softly, "Please…"
"Why?"
"I must tell you, Kathryn, of my
dream."
"What has the dream done?"
"It felt to me like a person, the whole
dream was a unification of all truth, beauty, love…fear…"
"Then you tell me nothing I ought to
know."
"You must know, Kathryn. Love - " he
paused as if the very idea struck him instantly as sublimely new, that he could
give his dream a name. A smile broke from his lips. In his eyes there was a
burning sensation of enlightenment. Yes, the Dream was a person...Kathryn...
"Love…came to me."
For the first time Kathryn's face revealed a
different emotion from the tight, cynical mask of minutes earlier. It looked
softer, like he had seen many times in that elusive time and place of a lifetime
ago. He saw also…surprise? Why should she not be?
"It unsettled me."
"I am…undone…"
There was no reaction from her, only the strange
softness, the creasing of her brow as if Emotion and Truth were too much to take
in and threatened to overflow. Did he see another strangeness in her eyes too?
Something he had seen too many times and never really noticed? What was it? Why
couldn't he find expression for what he was seeing? Did he unwittingly relate to
her Truth? What was it?
Compassion.
The waves that crawled up against the sand
lapped at his feet, reminding him of the tide, the late hour, the darkening
sky…
And…tenderness.
"It surprised me."
There was again that contraction of pain on her
face. A fleeting moment, a revelation. Her voice was soft, hardly above a
whisper.
"What did it awaken you to, Chakotay, this
dream that you call...Love?"
Did his heart stop beating? He clutched at his
chest. Why did it visit him again? It tormented him, punished him cruelly. He
had to tell her.
"The awakening…? It left, Kathryn.
Suddenly, it disappeared. It - it was as if I were suddenly blinded and robbed
of the light."
"And it came to you suddenly,
Chakotay?"
Kathryn took one step forward, but he barely
noticed it. Suddenly, he could reach out and touch her. But that thought
remained a thought, aborted in the intended action. His fingers brushed
aimlessly against his legs.
He wanted to tell her that was it. He wanted to tell her the Dream was always there. Only, he had been… unthinking, oblivious of its worth. He tried to speak. The words abandoned him as something gripped around his heart. It was a series of spasms that caused him to cry out. Did he cry out? His eyes were on Kathryn, but she stood, waiting…waiting…
Tell
her…tell her…tell her…
"It…was…there…it -it n-never
left…"
"Then why, Chakotay? Why?" Her words
sounded desolate, as if she stood in a canyon and they echoed off the cliffs.
"The dream, when it left, it told
me…"
"Of what, Chakotay?"
"Of - of the darkness. The deep hole where
nothing lives, where nothing will ever flourish."
"You don't want the darkness," she
stated.
"No. I - pity me, Kathryn."
"Why?"
"I don't want to be there alone,
Kathryn."
"I wanted to be there, Chakotay, with you,
for seven years."
"I know, Kathryn. That is why - "
"What, Chakotay?"
"I wanted you to know."
"That you want me to be your dream?
Now?"
"That I ask that you forgive me."
"For not loving me enough? For the nameless
hunger that was in me so long? For waiting for this moment?"
"Please…"
"I want to, Chakotay, very much. But how do
I know you will not let your Dream down?" she asked.
He wanted to touch her. This time his hand
reached for her, his fingers becoming tentacles that searched, trying to find a
place, a hold on her shoulder, her cheek, her lips, her hair. But Kathryn's
image seemed to move away slowly, very slowly. For the first time he heard the
ocean, noticed the creeping darkness, the way Kathryn's figure became lighter,
more translucent, incandescent even, as if she lifted of the sand and drifted
away like a bubble. A bubble whose existence was bright, but brief.
"Kathryn…"
"Half promises, teasing, expectations,
hope... " When Kathryn shook her head, her hair bobbed gently. "It
could never be, Chakotay," she whispered on the breeze.
Kathryn moved away from him. Desperately, he
tried to hold on to her, to call her back. But soon, the darkness came and
crushed him into its depths.
He cried out her name.
"Kathryn...Kathryn..."
"Kathryn!"
Chakotay choked as the cough jerked him upright.
For a few moments he sat disoriented, movement sluggish, his eyes glazed. It was
pitch dark in the room and for a while he remained sitting up, breathing
raggedly.
A hand touched his shoulder. A welcome, soft,
gentle touch. Silken hair brushed against his cheek.
"Chakotay?"
He turned. Kathryn looked at him with deep
concern. He tried to speak; he opened his mouth. The words froze; a guttural
sound emanated from his throat. Kathryn threw her arms around him, his body
trembling as he yielded to her touch. Cradling him like she would a baby, she
rocked him until the shudders stopped.
"Was it bad? The dream?" she asked at
length when he became quiet again. She felt his nod. Pressing him gently back
against the pillows, she spooned her body behind his, her arm across his chest.
Chakotay's hand gripped hers, their fingers lacing. They lay like that for long
minutes. Kathryn waited. His voice sounded muffled when he spoke.
"The part where you...drift away..."
"I'm here, Chakotay."
"Then the darkness that waits to swallow
me."
"I'm with you there. You are not
alone."
"I fall... It's too late to call you
back."
"Chakotay, I am your Dream, your
love."
He nodded, digesting the truth of her words.
"It was too much, Kathryn."
"It's over now, my love," she crooned.
"Over..."
Chakotay moved to sit up again. Kathryn sat up
too. In the darkness he could see her eyes, dark pools of blue-grey that rested
lovingly on him. There was a smile, a gentle smile that tugged at the corners of
her mouth.
"It's over," she said again.
Chakotay gave a deep sob and Kathryn cradled him
again. He looked worn out, as if he had been tossed about in a storm and
struggled vainly to find a footing. He looked at her with wide eyes, the parted
lips dry, a slight wheeze still issuing from his throat. She gave a small cry
and out of desperation she pulled him so that she could kiss him. His trembling
lips felt cold under hers, but she held him close to her until the trembling
subsided.
When he could become still again, he spoke.
"I hurt you, Kathryn."
"The hurting is over, my love."
"The dream won't leave me."
"Chakotay, the dream will never leave you.
I am the Dream, remember? I am your love."
"My love," he repeated softly. He
touched her cheek in a soft caress, yet she could sense he wanted to assure
himself she was not gone. His frowned deeply as some thought struck him.
"There is pain in my dream…" he said.
"I know, my love. My waiting was not in
vain, Chakotay…not in vain."
"The spirits have pity on me, Kathryn.
Forgive me for the waiting…"
"What is there to forgive, Chakotay? You
have not wronged me."
"I love you, my Kathryn," he said
reverently. "Your heart is as big as the universe."
"And yours, Chakotay. I know that I was
always in your heart."
He smiled for the first time; a tentative
mission that was met with an approving nod, eyes that replied with equal warmth.
"You'll not leave me?" he asked.
"Never..."
"Never?"
"Never, my love. Come, you must
sleep."
He lay back against the pillows and in the
darkness he groped for her, wanting her closeness, her reassurance.
"Rest now, please..."
Her words soothed, each syllable relieving
aching temples, tired eyes, a hurting heart. Chakotay's eyes closed. He was
safe. Kathryn was lying in his arms, warm, soft, so…near...
Tomorrow night, or the night after, Chakotay
knew he would have the dream again.
The dream would terrorise him, the loneliness
engulf him. He gave a deep, deep sigh as Kathryn's hand closed around his, her
presence reassured him.
Tomorrow night, when he dreamed again, the fear
would grip him, but Chakotay knew Kathryn would be there.
There was great comfort in that thought.
"Will you be there, Kathryn?" he asked
drowsily as the mists of sleep enveloped him.
"Always..."
Chakotay sighed again.
He did not feel Kathryn's tears as they spilled
hotly on his chest.
*****
The Dreame
- Ben Johnson.