Flannel
By monkee
Rating: GSummary: Four years after the fact, Janeway and Chakotay finally talk about what New Earth meant to them.
Disclaimers: Paramount owns Star Trek Voyager and all of its characters. And New Earth, too.
~*~
"Hot Chocolate," Janeway told the replicator. "With marshmallows," she added, with a defiant smile.
She had an intimidating stack of PADDs to work through tonight, and she intended to indulge herself while she tackled them. She had dimmed the lights as well, except for the one by her couch, and lit some candles to soften the room a little bit. The silence was distracting, so she'd called up some Chopin at low volume – background music to read reports by. She had also dressed for comfort in leggings, bare feet and an old green plaid flannel shirt.
It wasn't just any flannel shirt, either. It was her favorite flannel shirt. Oversized, worn, nearly threadbare in some places. And so soft – it lifted her spirits every time she put it on. Even the name – flannel – sounded soothing and comforting.
Technically, however, it was not her shirt. And that was a problem, because whenever she did wear it, she couldn't help feeling just a little bit guilty. Especially since the shirt's owner was probably sitting right next door, and did not know that she had it.
It was Chakotay's shirt. And she'd had it ever since they returned from New Earth, four years ago now. Four years. Yes, it was entirely too late to return it casually. 'Oh, by the way, Chakotay, here's your shirt. I found it in with my stuff.' She could have done that four years ago, but she hadn't. Things had been so awkward when they came back on board – she hadn't wanted to stir up any unresolved feelings. But then weeks went by, and then months, and then…Well, she'd just never gotten around to giving it back to him, that's all.
But that was a lie, and she knew it. She'd kept it on purpose, to remind her of what they'd had there. Of him. Of her, even. When she put the shirt on, she could actually feel herself relax. And although it had been years, and it had been washed, she would swear that it still carried his scent, and the distinctive smoky aroma of New Earth. They'd never figured out why the planet always smelled like burning leaves – but it probably had something to do with the plasma storms.
In any case, it was her favorite shirt and she wasn't going to give it back. She knew that if she asked, he'd let her keep it, so why worry about it? That was what she told herself, anyway.
Girded for report reading in her comfort clothes, she sighed contentedly, picked up her hot chocolate and walked slowly over to the couch. She started to sit down, but changed her mind at the last minute and sat on the floor instead, with her back against the couch and her legs stretched out in front of her. Sighing again, and wiggling her toes, she picked up the first PADD.
"Shuttle Maintenance," she said to herself, and grimaced. "Well, I may as well get this one over with." Sipping at her cocoa, she began to read.
~*~
Mercifully, the shuttle maintenance report hadn't been too bad this month. Apparently, no one had seriously damaged or destroyed any shuttles at all. Always a good thing.
She moved on to the Doctor's report, then Stellar Cartography. She was just breezing through them. Reading, commenting, approving…Her mind felt sharp and she was wide-awake and in good spirits.
She needed to stretch, and she needed more hot chocolate, so she decided a short break would be a good idea. She rose and wandered over to the viewport to stargaze.
She caught a glance at her own reflection and smiled at herself. She looked pretty happy for a woman who still had hours of work ahead of her. Probably a combination of cutting back on coffee at night, the comfortable clothes, and the soothing atmosphere she'd created. And it had been a nice week, which also helped. In fact, Voyager's hectic social schedule was the reason for the large backlog of reports tonight. She had actually been out three nights in a row. First, she'd had to participate in the final night of the Bajoran Gratitude Festival. Then Wednesday had been Naomi's birthday party – and she certainly couldn't miss her own assistant's tenth Ktarian birthday. And last night, she had only intended to put in a token appearance at the performance of the string quartet, but she'd been having too good a time to leave. So, here she was. Swamped with work, but happy.
She got herself another cup of hot chocolate and was starting to settle back into her spot on the floor when the door chimed. "Uh-oh," she muttered to herself. "What now?" Then she said, "Come in," and the door swished open.
Chakotay stood in the open doorway, distractedly reading the PADD in his hand. She noticed that he, too, was dressed for comfort and in bare feet. She smiled at his absorption in whatever he was reading – he barely seemed to have noticed that the door had opened, although he was slowly walking into the room.
"Something I can help you with, Chakotay?" she asked.
Startled by the sound of her voice, he looked up at her, then back at the door, which had closed behind him. He grinned, and shrugged.
"Yes, actually," he said. "I had something I wanted to run by you – about the crew rotations in engineering. Do you have a few minutes?"
She gestured with a tilt of her head to the floor beside her. "Sure, come on in," she said. "Do you want some hot chocolate?"
He moved over to where she was sitting and peered into her cup.
"What are those?" he asked, squinting.
"Marshmallows," she replied. "They're really sweet. I don't think you'd like them."
"Marshmallows," he said, making a face. "I can't imagine why anyone would ruin a perfectly good cup of hot chocolate with marshmallows."
She laughed, outraged. "Someone who taints his coffee with two sugars doesn't have any room to talk!" She nodded towards the replicator. "Help yourself."
Putting his PADD down on the floor beside her, he ambled over to the replicator. She sipped her hot chocolate and watched him as he ordered a cup of his own.
It was then, while his back was to her, that she suddenly remembered. His shirt! She was wearing his stupid shirt! She looked down at it, then back up at him, quietly slapping her palm on her forehead. Desperately, she looked around the room. There was a lap blanket draped over the back of the couch, but wrapping it around her shoulders would draw too much attention to herself. No, her only option was to play it cool. Maybe he wouldn't recognize it.
He turned around with his mug and headed her way. Then he stopped and looked at her closely, the first time he'd really looked at her since he walked into the room.
"That's my shirt!" he said, his eyes widening.
Damn. What was he – telepathic?
Various responses drifted through her head. Complete denial: "It is not – it's mine!" or "No, it's Mark's." Or ignorance: "Is this yours? I can't imagine how it ended up in here!" But she knew he'd see right through her. No, she was going to have to come clean.
Looking up at him, she took a deep breath, then said, "It's yours. I stole it. I'm sorry."
The look on his face was difficult to read. He was surprised, and…something. Sad? Touched? He knelt beside her and gently fingered the material of the sleeve. She remained still, watching him.
He spoke softly. "This has been missing ever since…"
His voice trailed off. He was reluctant to say the words. Probably knew it would make her uncomfortable. She supplied them for him. "Ever since New Earth."
He nodded, silently. After a long moment, when he looked like he wanted to speak, but couldn't, he finally said, "I thought I'd left it behind."
He could have meant the shirt, or something else entirely. The air in the room suddenly felt thick with meaning. She had to say something, to break the tension. To explain.
"It was in with my things when we came back. I felt uncomfortable bringing it back to you at first. Then…then I just didn't want to. I wanted to keep it. So I did. I guess I stole it. I'm sorry." She offered him a sheepish smile.
His eyes smiled, but his expression remained serious. "You kept it," he said, more to himself than her.
She looked down at the shirt, absently brushing at the soft nap of the fabric near the hem. "It reminds me of New Earth, you know? It seems like that was a lifetime ago, but I still remember…" She glanced at him, but his intense expression made her uncomfortable. She looked away, somewhat embarrassed to be so sentimental about it.
"Kathryn," he said. She looked back at him. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. His appeared to be struggling with something. Finally, he met her eyes, and said, "Wait here. I'll be right back. Don't move, okay?"
She nodded, mystified. He stood and left her quarters swiftly. She wanted to move – wanted to get up, change the atmosphere in the room just by being someplace else in it – but she'd promised, so she sat and waited. She didn't have to wait long. He was back in less than a minute, holding something small and flat.
He sat down cross-legged in front of her and looked at the object in his hand for a moment. She could tell now that it was a framed picture. She waited until he looked up. Then, with a slight, uncertain smile, he handed her the picture.
It was a picture of her face, in profile – candid – she didn't remember him taking it. He must have taken it when she wasn't looking, with some sort of telescopic lens. She was sitting with her back up against a large tree that had been about fifty meters from their shelter on New Earth. She remembered the moment vividly. It was several days before Tuvok had contacted them. She remembered sitting there, looking up towards the hills, and being absolutely content. She hadn't always felt so centered on New Earth – she'd struggled with all kinds of emotions there - but at that particular moment she'd been relaxed and happy. In the photograph, she was almost, but not quite, smiling. She was looking at something outside the frame, wisps of hair falling from her loose braid. She looked…peaceful.
She touched the picture gently with her fingertips, and felt tears welling up in her eyes. Completely aware that Chakotay was scrutinizing her, waiting for a response, she nodded her head, but couldn't speak. She bit her lip and felt a tear roll down her cheek. She wiped it away.
He reached out, then hesitated before gently resting his hand on her arm – just wanting some contact with her. Still nodding her head, she steadied her breathing. They sat in silence for a moment and she looked at the picture again, remembering.
"She looks like a completely different woman, doesn't she?" she observed, finally.
He looked down at the picture, then up at her face until she made eye contact. He smiled gently, and said, "No, it's the same woman. Trust me."
She smiled, and they both looked back down at the picture. "So," he said, "You have your memento, and I have mine. It was an important time in my life. I'm happy to find out that it meant something to you, too."
Her eyes welled up with tears again, but she smiled. She reached over and cupped his cheek in her palm, not trusting herself to speak. He turned his head slightly, caught her hand in his, and kissed the back of her fingers. She shifted her hand in his grasp and placed her palm on his. With their eyes locked, they both smiled, and entwined their fingers as they had so many years before.
They pulled apart at the same time, a little reluctantly, but knowing that they had to. "So," she asked, to lighten things up a bit, "Do I have to give your shirt back?"
He chuckled. "No. It looks better on you anyway." She smiled at the compliment. His expression turned serious again. "Kathryn?" he asked. "When we get home…do you think…"
She drew in a breath and exhaled in a sigh before answering, "I honestly don't know, Chakotay. I think it depends. On a lot of things. On how long it takes…On whether you can even stand to be in the same room with me by then…" He smiled and she snorted, self-deprecatingly. He nodded, and seemed prepared to drop the subject for her sake. It was so like him, not to push. He deserved better from her.
"I hope so," she said, quietly. She owed him an honest answer, even if it was all she could give him.
His answering smile came slowly, but it was the kind of smile that brought out his dimples, lit up his eyes, and made her stomach flutter. Nodding, he leaned back on his heels. "Me, too," he replied.
With the solemn moment broken, she put the picture down on her coffee table, picked up the PADD he'd brought and handed it to him. Smiling, he climbed over her legs and sat down beside her with his back against the couch.
"All right," he said, his smile fading, but his eyes still bright. "Let's get to work. I've been thinking about switching the crew rotations in engineering…"
She was listening to him, or at least half-listening to him. But she was also gazing at him fondly, shaking her head affectionately.
Maybe. Someday. She did hope so.
Then she turned her full attention to his engineering proposal, and they continued working, side-by-side, arms touching. She could feel the warmth of him right through the soft flannel of her shirt. Well, their shirt. And it felt right. It felt like home.
~~<~~@
The End