Better This Way
The winter here's cold.
And bitter.
It's chilled us to the bone.
I haven't seen the sun for weeks.
Too long, too far from home.
Feel just like I'm sinking,
And I claw for solid ground.
I'm pulled down by the undertow
Never thought I could feel so low
Oh, darkness, I feel like letting go.
---
Out of the window stars formed in swirling constellations, dizzying in their beauty and number. But they were strange and unfamiliar, and Kathryn Janeway could barely stand to look at them. Alone in her quarters at some ungodly hour of the night, she felt very far from home. Sighing, she poured herself a glass of whisky from the decanter she kept by her bed and allowed the soft music to wash over her. Mahler's gentle strains soothed her, and the alcohol burnt like fire in her veins. But the hollow emptiness stayed in her stomach, and she felt sick with loneliness. On the surface, this tired, disheartened woman was a million miles from the controlled, rational face she had shown to the world during the day. The world, she thought, with a bitter smile.
The crew are my world. The only familiar faces I may ever see. The only people I can call my friends. But there are limits to that friendship. Some things I cannot ask of them. But those are the things I need the most. Someone to comfort me when yet another plan to get us home fails. Someone to listen to me whine about my day, to criticise me. Someone to give me orders, goddamnit! To tell me what to do, and I never thought I'd say that, but it's true. But the one thing I need more than anything is the one thing I can never ask of anyone. I need someone to hold me. To stroke my hair, to watch me when I sleep and to be there when I wake up. I need not be alone, not to be the great, untouchable Captain.
When I'm sitting in my chair, the distance between Chakotay and I doesn't seem so far. I could reach out my hand and touch him. But in reality, we're galaxies apart. So I can never touch him, much as I've wanted to. And I have wanted to. Back on New Earth, it was all I could do not to pull him into my arms and have him hold me till the sun rose. But I knew I never could. Knew on some level that we would have to return to the only home we now know. And those feelings passed, with time.
But others have replaced them, oh how they have replaced them. I only wanted to save her, thought I could be the one to bring her back to humanity. When did the roles begin to reverse? When did I start being reminded of my own individual desires? Why her and why now?
Holding the cold glass to her cheek, she leant back and gazed out at the stars. She fought back the images that crowded her mind - Seven of Nine, achingly vulnerable, scared and completely alone. Somehow, she had turned into a confident, if taciturn, member of the crew, someone capable of happiness and anger, of hatred and. . . Love? Can she, dare she?
Or is it just another factor of human experience she can dismiss with one quick sneer. "Irrelevant". A sensation of familiarity shivered up and down her spine. Emotions cannot be dismissed that easily, no matter how hard one might try. The widening of those blue eyes, the way they followed her around the room. The quickening of her pulse as awareness dawned, in those beautiful, fragile moments when their eyes met and understanding passed between them without words. She knows. She must. It can never. . . I can never.
Guilt settled in her stomach along with the whisky, tinged with regret. At her command the music stopped, the lights dimmed, and she was left in quiet darkness. Alone.
---
If all of the strength and all of the courage
Come and lift me from this place,
I know I could love you much better than this
Full of grace
Full of grace
My love.
---
The harsh, artificial light slanted down on the young woman's neck, turning her blonde hair into a haze of gold. Everything about her manner demanded she be left alone, and the other occupants of the mess hall did accordingly. Although not on duty, she worked feverishly, trying to plot a course back to a home she could not remember. Kathryn felt a tremor of emotion run the entire length of her body. All of them, working towards the same end, for much the same reasons. But Seven. . . she has no-one there to miss her, no-one to look forward to seeing.
When Voyager lands, if it ever does, the disbanding of its crew will see the break-up of the only family she has ever known. She fought back the desire to take that angry, proud face in her hands and kiss it tenderly. To tell that hostile, solitary woman that she was not alone and never would be while Kathryn was there to hold her. But the chasm between them seemed achingly large and all she could do was smile briefly and tear her eyes away from the only sight she wanted to see. She had guided Seven through the confusion and pain of rediscovering an identity she had thought lost, and shielded her from as much of the crew's suspicion and antagonism as she could. She guarded the woman like a lioness protected her cubs, but no-one saw what it cost her to remain in this maternal role, to keep her distance as she began to fall in love with the person Seven of Nine could be, was becoming.
Tough love. The only way I can show how I feel, to any of my crew. So I guess it follows that I'm tougher on Seven than on most. Away from the heavy responsibility of Voyager, the only woman to whom she could ever be wedded out here in the Delta Quadrant, Kathryn could have loved this incredible woman, loved and fought and made up. . . Could have known how it felt to be tender and vulnerable together.
Together. We'd be something special. Both strong and stubborn. Somehow we'd make it work. A chance for her to recover that identity the Borg stripped away all those years ago, the woman she's been hiding under the technology for God knows how long. A chance for me to rediscover that woman I left behind when I stepped onto Voyager, whose voice haunts me when I can't sleep, when I feel like I'll never get home. A chance for us to learn how not to be right all the time, how not to be in control.
From the moment Seven had boarded the ship, something had drawn Kathryn to her. Sometimes it felt like sheer voyeurism, the way you can never tear your eyes from a horrific accident. Maybe it had been the sheer force of Seven's personality, even when freshly severed from the Collective. But that something had brought them together and whatever it was, it would not let them go. Those eyes had followed her even then, at first with suspicion and wariness of the woman she thought was her captor. That had changed, in time. Slowly, she realised there was at least one person in all the galaxy she could trust. She had a guide to walk her through the uncertainty of her place in the world.
First, that unconscious imitation of her mentor's posture, her long, confident strides. The tone of voice that could border on superior and arrogant, but which sounded so much more icy and unforgiving when compassion was lacking. Gazing at Kathryn every so often, to check her actions still met with approval. Somewhere along the line, something had softened the gaze, transforming it to one of affection and concern for the well being of the woman she considered her friend and ally. Affection and. . . something deeper. It was there, in her eyes.
Within every interaction, so much was going on beneath the surface. So many emotions present, but not expressed. Anger, resentment, worry, love. All so confusingly complex, but like oxygen to the both of them.
My role in Seven's life makes our relationship what it is. But it's the exact same thing that means neither of us can ever express what we mean to each other. Not now. Not here. All I can be is her friend and mentor. It hurts. It's not enough. But it's all I can offer her.
---
It's better this way I said
Haven't seen this place before.
Everything we say and do
Hurts us all the more.
It's just that we stay Too long,
In that same old sickly skin.
I'm pulled down by the undertow
Never thought I could feel so low.
Oh darkness, I feel like letting go.
---
That old, familiar dance. Exchange after clashing exchange. Heated words and fiery glances released all the passion they had between them. Kathryn's tender words of reproach, of apology, a hand on the other woman's shoulder, the skin of Seven's throat just brushing her hand, making her tremble. She shivered, suddenly horrible cold. She longed to draw her close, feel her soft skin radiating warmth. Needed to pull Seven towards her and kiss her deeply. The wrench when she moved away was agony, the silence more hurtful than all their disagreements.
It would take so little just to stay that close to her. To show my forgiveness in actions rather than words. But it would cost so much, more than I have to give. I can't allow myself that kind of intimacy here, to indulge myself at the expense of all my other duties. I made a promise to myself. But that was when I still had the hope of Mark. . .
This horrible, lonely space has to remain between us, and I think it's worse for me than it is for her. I'd be taking advantage, it would be inefficient, inappropriate, all of those words she trots out when faced with something she's too scared to understand. Just one more untried emotion, something else to suppress, even for a time, until she finds...
But that thought sticks in my heart, hurting more than I believed anything ever could. One gets so few chances to love and be loved. . .
Frustration eased in desultory encounters on the holodeck, that left a faint tarnish of cheapness on her skin, or in the privacy of her own quarters, her pleasure bathed in tears when she opened her eyes to the silent, empty room.
How can I explain to a woman who is only just learning how to feel that some feelings cannot be allowed? The torture of having your body and soul tell you one thing and your mind another. . . is this just another hair shirt she must wear, like she did with the Borg?. No dissent allowed. Starfleet regulations. God, she was right, I'm just like the people I thought I was saving her from. Telling her that this is just another inefficient feeling, one of no consequence, to be dismissed. That's what I'm ordering her to do, whether I like it or not.
The hypocrisy of her actions tasted thick and bitter on Kathryn's tongue, and the sour feeling in her stomach would not go away. Both were navigating unfamiliar territory, and the fear that gripped her was mirrored in Seven's eyes, cobalt wells of lost confusion. That proud, superior stance masked a seething mass of raw passions she had never been allowed to explore. Still, some part of her brain weighed up and analysed every desire for its practicality, its relevance for the task at hand. A hair shirt, indeed. . .
Behind the calm, confident shell was a woman reeling from a flood of wishes and opinions that threatened to overwhelm her now that the dam of Borg mentality was gone. Now she was an individual, with wants and needs, but the one thing she wanted was the one thing kept from her by a hierarchy Kathryn wasn't sure Seven full yet understood.
If all of the strength and all of the courage Come and lift me from this place, I know I could love you much better than this Full of grace Full of grace My love.
The usual hum of activity on Voyager sounded only as an irritating buzz in her head and Kathryn had to focus hard on what Chakotay was telling her. Something trivial, really not important, but a trip to Astrometrics was calling. The slim figure glanced up, a brief smile flickering across her face. Kathryn could barely meet her eyes, barely summon the strength to exchange a few pleasantries. The chamber was cool and silent, the unspoken energy between the two woman crackling with more force than anything else on the ship. A rough tone here, a dry, sarcastic word there - an uneasy understanding weighted them down, but a tender warmth beneath the conversation softened the verbal blows.
Part of me aches to go and see her, on any premise, I really don't care. But how can I even hold a conversation when I'm too scared to look in her eyes? Beneath the front of Borg efficiency, I can see the woman, Annika. Passionate, angry, loving. She reminds me of what I've lost. . . Oh, she's beautiful. Could anyone deny that? If that's all I longed for, I could breathe a little easier around her, my dreams wouldn't be so disturbed, by her smile, the sound of her voice, the tpuch of her skin. . . If only it were lust. . .
Delivering myself in Kashyk's arms was such a relief. No love, no intimacy, just physical desire. I admired his mind, abhorred his ethics and felt more than a brief twinge of desire for his body. . . but that, again, was just another failed attempt at getting Seven out of my system. What I still crave is her companionship, her closeness. Sometimes, when I'm drifting between consciousness and dreaming, I feel the caress of her hand on my hair. In those moments I'm just Kathryn, but, in a second, guilt and shame stain my thoughts, as if it were a sin to want not to be alone. . .
I've seen her at her lowest, most vulnerable, held her as she cried. I've been on the receiving end of more than one of her stubborn, strong-willed tirades. I've comforted her, reasoned with her and come so close to kissing her I could cry. She's part of my life, the way oxygen is. I've come so close to losing her, so many times. . . I can't do that again. Can't risk everything, just for one moment of togetherness, one moment of bliss. Because that's all it can ever be. I can be Kathryn, or I can be the Captain. Never both, not at the same time. And out here, so far from wherever it is any of us calls home, Kathryn is not the priority, can never be. All I can do is hurt us both. If I love Seven, I will leave her alone.
Enormous azure eyes, questioning, seeking approval, seeking something more. . . always, behind every word and glance, something else lurked. One movement, a certain tone of voice, a look. . . then Kathryn retreated, sick to her stomach for her cowardice. Her expression took on a little more formality, her posture grew a little straighter, her eyes more distant. Those few, shimmering moments when Kathryn Janeway looked in Annika's eyes and nearly didn't turn away. . . A few snatched moments in a world hostile and unforgiving to the emotions that lay unexpressed. A second, a touch, a smile. . . Then, with eyes full of bitter regret, Kathryn turned away. Again and again.
---
I know I could love you much better than this But it's better this way.
--- The End