Distant Shores - Marco Palmieri [103]
Chakotay paused before answering. “Not among my people.”
Janeway stood back, holding her face in her hands to hide the blush burning on her cheeks.
“Chakotay, I’m so, so sorry.”
He seemed to sense the pain and confusion she felt; the conflicting anger and embarrassment in his face dissipated, replaced by something like relief. Moving toward the mirror that sat on the floor, he called out, “Computer, resume program.”
As the Venice cafe shimmered back into existence, he placed the mirror on the table and gestured for her to sit. When she didn’t move immediately to join him, he said, “I think we ought to talk about this. And as long as we are, we might as well be comfortable.”
Nodding slightly, she settled herself across from him, and began the conversation part of her had always known they would have to have eventually.
“All right,” she said. “Let’s talk.”
“Obviously the Bonding Box was a misunderstanding,” he said. “But I don’t think I was reading anything into that kiss that wasn’t there.”
Her smile tipped her hand as she had to acknowledge, “No, you weren’t.”
He gave her a moment to sit with this before taking the bull by the horns.
“So what’s the problem? If you ever wondered how I feel about you, I’d say that issue is resolved. And your gift to me aside, I think it’s pretty clear now that I’m not the only person here who would enjoy exploring the potential of this relationship.”
She had always admired his honesty, even when she didn’t want to hear it, and this moment was no exception. She knew he deserved no less than he was giving.
“Of course it’s crossed my mind,” she said simply. “And yes, I enjoyed what we just….”
He nodded, eliminating the need for her to end that thought.
“But it doesn’t change the fact that we both have a responsibility to this ship and this crew that has to supersede our other… interests.”
“I’ve already fought and won this argument in my head at least a hundred times in the past few days,” he said. “But you should have a chance to make your case. Why?” he asked. “Why can’t we do our job and still have a life that is our own, apart from that job?”
“Because we can’t,” she offered with a slight shrug. “At least, I can’t.” She took a moment to gather her thoughts, needing more than anything to be clear. “Every day I have to make choices… choices that mean risking my life, and yours. If I loved you more, or differently than I do now, I would no longer be able to make those choices with only the best interests of Voyager in my heart. I owe more to this crew than I owe myself. The decision I made five years ago came with a price.”
“Maybe,” he said, “but you’re not the only one paying it. Every time your back is against the wall, you retreat to the same place. ‘I’m alone. It’s all my fault… all my responsibility.’ It’s certainly one way to run a starship, but it’s no way to live a life. And for as long as we’re here, I think we should try to do both.”
He took a deep breath before he continued,
“I know it’s a lot to risk. And sometimes I think that you honestly believe that sharing your burdens is some sign of weakness. But it doesn’t have to be. If I’m wrong, and this turns out to be a monumental disaster, I’ll take full responsibility. I’ll walk the plank. Or you can make good on your threat, drop me off at the nearest Class-M planet, and I’ll live the rest of my life knowing that the time we had together was worth spending the rest of my life alone.”
She tried to imagine the rest of their journey in the Delta Quadrant, another five years or fifty, without him. It was an unbearable thought.
“Do you know why I chose to give you the Bonding Box in the first place?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“For five years, you’ve been a very capable first officer.”
He rolled his eyes and almost laughed. “Talk about