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Questions and Conditions by Nada
PG-13
As she looks down upon her journal, it is this word slowly spun into longer stories that have been her secret salvation. Her fears and deepest desires are sprinkled throughout the characters of her short stories. Sometimes it is not easy being captain of a star ship. Sometimes she questions the price of being the captain. Everyone taking their own little piece until she begins to wonder if anything will be left.
That is why these stories are so important. It does not matter if they are good. She does not want them read or shared. These are her words. These are her tears cried and her desires that she quenches alone. Alone, she thinks, such a misunderstood word. It is a word that should not suggest weakness or sadness. Sometimes she is tired of the labels, Captain, friend, lover, woman. She is who she is. She grows angry from all the expectations wanted. Sometimes, like now all that she can do is to write the words.
Her story begins... She looks at the sleeping form in her bed. Kathryn smiles as remembers last night activities. A bottle of wine starts it all. Small talk over candlelight flirting with the shadows. Music softly playing in the background lightly caressing their ears. Her mind begins to spin. Whether it being from the wine or the company, she did not care.
"Care to dance, Brad?" She asks, wanting only his arms around her? Needing only someone to hold onto and take her away.
They move together perfectly. Lightly touching and exploring, they dance. The music, the wine, their conversation, all go well up to this point. Fantasies breeze through her mind as Brad gracefully spins her around the floor. Her breath catches in her throat, body lost in the moment. They kiss. . .
Bree-oop
She knows it must be Chakotay. Only he would risk disturbing her unless it was an emergency. " Just a moment I will be there in a second." Quickly she hides her journal in her bedroom. It is not that she is ashamed of the stories. Nor is it that she does not trust her friends. Writing offers her the opprutunity to release her feelings without having to explain them. On her way back from the bedroom she grabs her mug containing coffee, her true stabilizing force. Now she is ready. "Enter Chakotay." She speaks easily. Secretly she has decided that their relationship would always be in metamorphosis, a constant struggle finding itself.
He enters her quarters. Instantly his eyes reach into hers, searching as if they were some barometers. She could be a storm, with strong winds of will, cold blasts of a fierce, almost fanatical, need to be alone. These were feeling he fears. He wants to rush into life. She takes little paces. He wants to profess his love forever. It makes her happy just to flirt. Opposite attraction was all he could think." I wonder sometimes," he hesitates," if you are getting enough sleep." He says as he refers to the coffee of which she takes a sip.
"I am fine. Don't worry." She says plainly, but her words really mean, leave me alone. "Are we discussing my sleeping habits?""Or perhaps it was my sleeping arrangements that causes you a restless night." She teases. "Come into my parlor, says the spider to the fly. Look and see for yourself that tonight I have no victim in my tangled web tonight. Unless of course that tempts you." "Ready to become a victim of mine, used and then thrown away?"
She loves to tease him because he makes it so easy, but he is so much the sensitive kind that flirting is dangerous. He speaks his words with such conviction. Sometimes speaking to him came so hard.
Chakotay knows that she teases him, as she holds out her hand to him. She pokes fun at him, wearing that mischievous grin and holding an impish gleam to her eyes. Nevertheless, still a part of him wonders at the seriousness of her offer. He fantasizes about the possibilities. "Penny for your thoughts." She laughs as she walks back to her bedroom.
He hesitates before going back to her bedroom. He wonders about how this would look if it ever got out. Still he does wait too long before he decides. Every time that he enters her bedroom, her many interests always astound him. He sees neatly arranged books, fiction and nonfiction. Prints of traditional and abstract art that tease the eye and mind with their colors and shapes. Tiny, fragile, pieces of porcelain depicting mythical creatures that introduce one into a world of wonder and adventure. She is a woman of great passion and wondrous vision. It is a world that he wishes that she would take and show him someday.
"Why is it Chakotay, every time that we are here I get that look?"
"What look is that Kathryn?"
"As if I were candy in a store. Which am I Chakotay?" " A chocolate to be put straight into your mouth ready for eating. Perhaps I more resemble hard candy, to be sucked slowly and enjoyed? " Kathryn asks, arching an eyebrow. "Well which is it? " " A quick moment of intense pleasure, or a more relaxed, eased one, come on Chakotay, which is it? Again she grills him, enjoying him squirm for an answer.
"As a child," he starts slowly. "They never allowed me too much indulgence into candy. My parents said too much of a good thing can be dangerous. So whenever I allowed myself the indulgence, I would do certain tests to make sure of my candies.
"Certain tests?" " That intrigues me." Kathryn replies.
"Sure," he begins to say as he walks closer to her. "I had only two tests." "First I would sniff the candy," he replies as he moves behind her to place his arms around her. With his arms around her and her body close to his, this is the way things are suppose to be, he thinks.
"The second test, Chakotay?" She explores the possibility quickly so as not to get caught up in the moment. "What was the second test?"
"Oh, the second test, right." He states relishing the moment, even if it is fleeting. Already she begins to loosen his embrace on him. "The second test was that I would pinch it." He says, acting as if Kathryn were the candy, and punishing her for spoiling his moment.
"Ow!" She shouts, rubbing her buttocks. "What was that for?"
"I had to tell what the filling of the candy somehow, Kathryn." He laughs.
"As long as we have been on the ship together, you still cannot tell what the center of this candy is yet? " She begins to laugh too. Still rubbing the pinch, she knows this time the point is his.
"Some candies are harder than others to decide their fillings, Kathryn. Whatever I discover yours to be, I am sure it will be sweet."
"The duty rosters are there on my desk. The changes are fine. " Please take them on your way out. I am ready for another cup of coffee and then bed."
He grabs the duty rosters from her desk and leaves unsatisfied from their exchange. He does know what to expect but he leaves with an unfilled feeling. Part of him wants these feelings he has toward Kathryn to be over. Part of him wants to explore them forever. So goes his struggle.
He looks over the changes she has made. Something else to occupy my mind he thinks to himself. Suddenly he notices the handwritten journal. It must be Kathryn's he decides as it is an elegant antique. Should he return it to her tonight? She did say she was going to bed. Maybe she is already sleeping. Thousands of thoughts flood his brain. In truth his curiosity has control of him now. He always wanted to know her secrets.
She steps out of the shower refreshed and excited as an idea has struck her. Suddenly, a moment of panic hits her as she remembers putting her journal under the duty rosters. Quickly she runs over to her desk only to find nothing.
Maybe he will not notice it. She thinks to herself, knowing it is false hope. Would he read it? She wonders next. I would not have to read his. He is but an open book, of course he thinks he hides his feelings well. Nevertheless, the whole crew realizes his emotions. " Still she has to admit she would read his, for curiosity would get the better of her."
For the past hour he has simply stared down at her journal. He wants so desperately to read her thoughts and with these new insights gain some advantage over her, perhaps the final pieces of the puzzle known as Kathryn Janeway. Nevertheless, every time he tried to open the journal he gets a bad feeling. These were her private thoughts, and she does not share unless invited. So far she has not invited him.
Maybe, he thinks. They should not be together. Still this realization does nothing for the emotions he is feeling. Temptation offers answers in the journal he is holding. He grips tight the journal; tighter as he fights with his conscience. She is everything he wants in a woman. She has beauty and strength, could be strong willed, yet possesses a tender heart. He knows with all his heart that if only he could understand her, he could be everything to her too. If only there were some way he could understand.
"I could reveal some of her secrets." The journal cries out to him. "Read just one entry." It whispers.
She hears the early morning knock at her door, and fights the impulse to go running toward the door. She had not slept at all because of all the things he possibly could know right now. Her fears and desires lay bare for him to do as he wished and she hoped one day with her body she secretly wrote. It was obvious how he felt about her. How she wished she could tell him of her feelings but with everything going on and everything that has happened to her, she hesitates. Love for her had never caused anything but harm and so she does not trust that emotion any longer.
After waiting for what she thinks a respectable amount of time she answers the door
"Enter."
He stands holding, no clutching her journal. She cannot read his face, as it is emotionless. All that she sees are his eyes without their usual enthusiasm, his face sad.
"I believe I took this by mistake Captain." He says, handing the journal back to her. " You will find it exactly as it was."
As he hands the journal back to her, something tells her that he is responding the answer to her unspoken question. I did not read it. Something tells her not to question him any further, but her curiosity gets the better of her.
" You did not find anything to your liking in it?" She teases. It was very subtle, a tiny tensing of his body, but still she notices.
"I did not know I was supposed to find anything at all?" He speaks slowly. A sign, she has learned from time spent together, that he was getting angry. "Was I supposed to find it and read it?"
He does mean to be so abrupt with her. These silly games that they play with each other sometimes rattle him. He has feelings for her, either reciprocates them or do not. He does not have to know why, but do not tease.
"No, I did not want it read" "Actually I am relieved that you did not."
"So why ask if I found anything to my liking?" He asks of her too quickly and too callously. Knowing that this will anger her. He is ready for her barrage.
"Why are you angry with me?" Is it because I did not want the journal read?"
We cannot share everything or what would be the purpose of the journal. She thinks to herself, not willing to voice her last sentence.
"No, I am not angry." He responds to her question, but he is. "If I wanted to read your journal bad enough I could have." Still, he feels hurt that she did not share.
"Why bring the journal back to me unread?" She asks, doubting his words. She knows him well enough to know what he is feeling, and cares enough to allow him to express it in his own terms.
"Because you did not ask me to read it." He whispers.
"If I asked to read this now, would that really ease your mind." She gently counters, embracing him. "Everyone must have a private place." "If I am forced into sharing, then it is not sharing no matter how sweet the intention." "I do not write to hide from you, but because of you. Feelings are so much a part of you that now they are a part of me too. Still I would be less than honest if I did not say that this scares me. These emotions are ones that have hurt me before, and now I cannot give them. " So I hurt you in my hesitation, bruise with my teasing, but it is the only way I feel comfortable in expressing me emotions."
Feeling ashamed, he looks into the eyes of the woman he loves. He knows she has feelings and does not doubt her. Still, he is a creature of emotion and must follow his heart.
"That is what my journal is all about, not running away but toward the same place you seek." Asking is unfair of me, wait until I am stronger to deal with what you ask. I cannot even promise that I will ever get there, but I can only say that I do need because you bring out the need for this journal. " Bring out the emotions that create the words I write, if that is a love that we can accept, then I love you."
Sometimes love is easy. Sometimes it is hard. Sometimes saying and hearing I love you has conditions. Now she is asking conditions of him. Love, to him the purist, is unconditional, but still utmost it must be honest. She cares for him in the only way she can, and that is honest. If he accepts her love, then they must meet conditions, and that is honest. Now she asks honesty from him. She can promise no guarantees but what love could. She cannot promise that she will not hurt him. Being in love means taking a chance, he realizes.
He remembers a time when he spoke those words to her. "It is your call, Kathryn. It has always been." However, he had been wrong then. Perhaps he was wrong now. Accept her as she is expecting nothing else, he tells himself.
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