The
Vignette by vanhunks
Rating: PG
Disclaimer:
Summary: Chakotay goes in search of Kathryn. Set after the events of "Equinox".
Graciously thanks to Gilly for the picture of the garden.
THE
More than the profusion of colour that surrounded me, I was rendered mute by the silence alone of the place. The stillness seemed to radiate not just from the air, but the softness of the blooms, the way the leaves merely suggested movement. So profound was the atmosphere of sanctity, so calm, so restful that I knew the moment I placed my foot on the first step that led to the gate, I was trespassing. Instinctively, in a movement impelled by spiritual awareness of the moment of my intrusion, I bent down to touch the ground before slowly removing my shoes.
As I straightened up, a shadow fell over me. I found my path blocked. A woman had appeared as silently as the atmosphere remained hallowed. Did she just emerge from the air? I wondered. I blinked, briefly perplexed before I realised why I experienced the perplexity in the first place.
She was a nun, a priestess, dressed in the habit of an ancient order on Earth. Her robe, tied at the waist by a cord with a long tassel, was black, as was her headgear. The wide collar which to me resembled a bib, was white. Her fingers were laced, pressed against her bosom carrying the air of muted reverence about her stance.
It was her face that intrigued me. It was a kind, gentle, a face on which a smile hovered, yet strangely severe. For a moment I experienced a flash of my own grandmother Wenonah who could spear you with such a look that had you - if you sinned - already down on your knees and clasping your hands together in wretched penitence. The priestess's age was indeterminate. She was not young, neither did she look old. It was her bearing that suggested an old worlde reverence that touched one instantly. Her movements were unhurried, barely discernable where she stood on the third step. The thought ran through me that her presence alone, without ever uttering a single word – for sound would have shattered the ambience of sanctity – was enough to tell me that entry into the garden was forbidden. This apparition reaffirmed the intrusion I felt.
But I couldn’t help it. I had to see Kathryn and Kathryn was in the garden.
"What is your purpose here?" the saintly woman asked.
She'd spoken the words aloud yet they issued from her as mere whispers, soft but discernable, commanding. She had hardly moved from her original position just outside the gate, left half open by someone. Kathryn, maybe?
"I have come to look for Kathryn," I told her.
"Kathryn desires solitude."
"She has not returned home…"
I used the word home. Home was Kathryn's quarters. Home was what I thought her sanctuary. I don't know what prompted this way of naturalising Kathryn to a place on a starship, but that was the way it slipped out. Kathryn had been gone far longer than her scheduled holodeck time. There were always times that Kathryn sought refuge in the holodeck to play, find comfort, to fight with me, to fight me. On those days I waited out the time, waited for her to return home - to her duty, her ship, the pressure of day-to-day command, to me…
I've never seen this place. It was new.
"You are Commander Chakotay," said the saint, as if the word home had triggered recognition of my place in Kathryn's life. The words felt like they were drifting about in the air.
"I am."
"Captain Janeway has given you the privilege entering this…place of solitude."
The codes of Kathryn's holodeck programmes. We had talked about it months ago, when Kathryn had said very quietly in a moment of introspection that we had nothing to hide from one another.
"Yes, she has," I told the priestess.
"There is much pain in Captain Janeway," she continued, "pain of the heart."
She had hardly moved, yet I could feel her stance was one of barring me from entering through the gate.
"I know. She feels that she has caused me pain and I wish to assure her that it is not so."
Why should I tell a hologram that? Ransom was gone - dead - and so was the threat of the Equinox. For Kathryn's sake I tried to reason with her. For the Captain's sake I challenged her going after a man she believed contravened the ideals of the Federation. Kathryn's relentless pursuit of Ransom and routing the evil that he represented caused intense personal conflict. Noah Lessing suffered, and the four who survived with him were not let off easily. Kathryn's face had changed from humorous and friendly to starkly terse, battle-hungry lines that remained with her until the moment the Equinox exploded and Ransom died.
Me? I was confined to quarters, a stunning paradox of our friendship, our kinship, our love… I didn't think she would do it, but she did. When she came to my quarters to release me, she collapsed. Half a day in sick bay and the entire night of reassurance that she did the right thing was not enough to assuage the guilt she was convinced would never go away.
It was the spell in sick bay that intensified that guilt. She had lain on the biobed, not wanting to look me in the eyes. Her face had been turned away from me, her body rigid when I touched her shoulder. I only sensed that she had been crying. The doctor's warning had rocked her, brought her sharply to the reality of her condition. No amount of reassurance could quell her fears, her tears, her guilt.
Yes, Kathryn believed she had caused me great pain.
The priestess nodded so imperceptibly that I wondered if she heard me or understood me or whether Kathryn had programmed her with empathy. Perhaps Kathryn did, knowing I would sometime meet this creation of hers and speak to her exactly as I did now.
"Please…she needs me…"
She hesitated only a second before she, without speaking again, moved away from the gate, open as it had been from the time I entered the holodeck. My courage almost failed me as I moved, still in my socks up the stone steps and pushed the gate open wider. When I turned to thank the woman, my surprise that she had vanished as silently as she had appeared, was muted, perhaps not a surprise at all.
I was struck immediately by the verdant growth of the lawns, the sculptured bushes that resembled an eagle, an old man bent over a wood block, a planet… Here and there were stone sculptures, this time clearly defined as Madonna and Child, a young warrior, another of a monk. They were not merely placed there as adornments, but appeared as part of the garden, as if they too, grew from the soil like all the plants, the flowers, the hedges. Under shady trees were stone benches, ornate in their architecture, yet so simple, so functional.
My eyes traversed to each bench, my heart thudding as I tried to find her, expecting to see her, her body turned towards me. What was I hoping for? Certainly that she saw me, acknowledged my presence, perhaps even rose from the bench to walk into my waiting arms.
But more than anything, I was aware of the imposing silence, the air of serenity of the whole place. The priestess's unspoken warning that I not intrude, I realised with pained insight, was already an intrusion of the hallowed atmosphere that seeped into me the second I had entered the holodeck. That alone should have sent me scurrying back to our quarters to wait for Kathryn there.
I'd come too far now to turn back. By that time I was scarcely aware of the trees with their autumnal shades, the flowers, their colours, though a fragrance lingered and teased my nostrils.
I turned once again to look at the gate, expecting to see the priestess standing there, but I had no such support. I didn't need any. The moment I resumed my search, I saw Kathryn sitting on a bench in the furthest corner of the quiet garden. How had my eye found her so unerringly when moments before I simply counted off each bench knowing that I'd find her anyway?
Behind her was a statue of a figure - an angel perhaps? - with outstretched arms. A guarding, yet benign presence. I was struck by that.
She sat hunched slightly forward.
I would have known the stance anywhere, whether Kathryn's face was raised to the heavens, or whether her head was bent in meditation, or whether just slumped in dejection. I would have recognised her even though she wore a dark brown robe tied at the waist with a cord and though the robe had a hood that virtually concealed her face from view.
It was Kathryn.
I dared not take a step further. For even as I trod on the soft, green grass, that soundless sound seemed to disturb the atmosphere, deliver a cry as loud as if an explosion had taken place. I dared not call her name, for that would have shattered the calm, the supreme peace that filled this place, a haven, a place of refuge, a place of reflection.
Kathryn moved, only to raise her face upwards for she was unaware of my presence. The hood slid away, just enough that I could see her face.
If emotion, if the aftermath of some deep disturbing event could be determined as stages through which one proceeded until peace was regained, then Kathryn was passing through one of those stages. Her face reflected the raging of storms, of intense conflict, a battle in which Kathryn fought Kathryn. I saw something shiny on her cheeks, the evidence of the battle.
My instinct was to rush forward and take Kathryn in my arms, never let her go, offer her comfort. Ransom was somewhere there in her storm, as were Lessing, Marla Gilmore and the others. Her broken ship was there, the fallen plaque she had held in trembling hands on the broken bridge was there, I was there. I knew exactly where within her storm. I was in her ready room reasoning with her. I was in my quarters confined. I was on the bridge talking to her about crossing the line. I was in sickbay holding her hand while she wept with disconsolate weariness.
I don't know how long I stood there watching Kathryn. Her face had remained upturned during the war that ravaged her. But very slowly her facial muscles began to relax and the new sheen on her cheeks, the evidence of the coming resolution. That was how it was with her, with most probably any living being - that one raged through a fire until it was spent. But especially with her.
I was overcome by a realisation then as I turned to leave the garden. Though I told the priestess that Kathryn needed me, that thought, that belief was uttered solely because of my own supreme arrogance that only Chakotay, warrior, Maquis, friend, confidant, challenger, lover, husband could give Kathryn peace when she craved it.
That was not to be and the thought hurt briefly. Only briefly, for as a spiritual being I understood the need for seclusion away from loved ones, from one's beloved. Even if only for a short period.
It was a golden moment, a rare moment in which I was privileged to witness Kathryn resolve her conflict. There would be times, I knew, that Kathryn would welcome my nearness and comfort and understanding. Others, like now, would exclude me.
I walked slowly from the garden, retreated through the gate which stood open even as I had closed it behind me when I entered. The priestess was not there and I felt a little emptiness that I didn't see her again.
As I exited the holodeck, I resolved to wait for Kathryn, even if she remained in seclusion for another day. The ship could run. I'll let it run. For her, for me, for the crew.
*
It was quiet in Kathryn's quarters. She lay wrapped in my arms and felt warm, even feverish. From time to time I gave in to the urge to kiss her forehead, or press my lips against her hair, or just simply caress her arm. No words were spoken. None were needed. Kathryn's feet entwined with mine, the way she loved to do. Her body felt rested, soft as she pressed into mine. I lay on my back, listening to her even breathing.
It had been late evening when she returned from her garden. She had quietly walked into my arms and rested her head against my chest. Enfolding her in my arms, I planted a kiss against her hair and I felt how calm, how rested she was. I was overjoyed to have her back, to see her equilibrium restored. When she raised her face to look at me, I bent down and kissed her reverently, a kiss that lingered, more with caring than raging passion.
She hadn't spoken a word all evening, but I knew she was at
peace. I fixed her something to eat and couldn't help smiling when she pulled
her face at the savoury pancakes I had replicated. I had forgotten, but
good-naturedly she had eaten them. Later I sat on the edge of the tub while she
lay back in it with her eyes closed. All curiosity had left me for I knew that
Kathryn would choose her time to speak to me of her
"
"Did you read my mind, sweetheart?" I asked her,
stroking her fingers that splayed on my chest. "You spoke. I
understand…about
"I'm sorry…"
"Don't ever be. I sensed your presence in the garden."
"I thought you may have."
There was silence after that. Kathryn gave a deep sigh and snuggled closer to me. I closed my eyes, trying to quell the prickly burn in them. Far off I could hear the thrum of the ship's engines, even footfall along the corridors. I imagined I could hear Harry on the bridge or Tuvok giving a command. Like in the garden, the silence here was palpable and sounds were mainly acknowledged. Kathryn shifted against me, sighing again deeply before turning to lie on her back. She hooked her foot round mine. I gave a little smile. Always some part of our bodies touching when we lay in bed, sunken at times in our own thoughts.
Then she took my hand and guided it to her body. Her belly felt soft - soft and firm and with life. Did the first kicking start? I must have imagined it, but the wonder of it coursed through me.
"I almost lost her…" Kathryn whispered softly, her voice free of the pain and the terror and the anger of the last few days. Of yesterday.
"I can feel her kicking…" I said with wonder, turning to face Kathryn. "She's going to be tough, like her mother."
"Chakotay."
"Honey?"
"I'm appointing you Acting Captain. Until after Zannah - "
"Zannah?" I asked.
"Zannah Joy. You…understand, don't you?"
"I do, sweetheart."
I wrapped Kathryn in my arms again. No words needed to be spoken after that. What Kathryn went through would be shared with me in time. Right now, I believed, she wanted to do what was best for our coming child, Zannah Joy, who was almost lost to us.
There would be times in the future - our unknown future - that Kathryn would enter her garden and wrestle her demons there. Those would be the times that excluded me, excluded anyone close to her. I knew that the hurt of exclusion would be experienced by me, but it would be brief.
Because I knew, understood, that a person needed solitude - a time for reflection, a time to grieve, a time to find closure in his own Gethsemane.
END