True Love

I've come to appreciate the times when I can work in my garden. It's not only a relaxing task, but a time for thinking, too. Who would have guessed that I would leave Starfleet to build up an utterly new life for me. Okay, it might not be that new. On New Earth my life had been similar. Getting up early, enjoying the nature, working in my garden. I think that was what made me change my life after Voyager's return. Well, that and a certain tattooed first officer . . .

I remember when Chakotay contacted me like it was yesterday. I was home with my mother and my sister who had come to visit me. I certainly wasn't feeling like I lacked something at that time. The joy of finally being home was so overwhelming that I forget about all other things - even Chakotay.

I think if he hadn't tried to find me we would have never gotten it together. I certainly wouldn't have tried to find him. Not that I didn't have feelings for him. But after living in denial for almost eight years it became something like a second skin to not indulge in my wishes. Yet when I saw his face on the screen it was all coming back to me. All impressions burned themselves into my memory. His short black hair which looked so very soft, inviting you to touch it, to move your fingers through it. His tattoo with its indigo colored lines, starting over his left eyebrow and running to his hairline and even further. His nose, being lightly bent in the middle. His eyes . . . oh, those beautiful dark brown eyes, appearing like they can search through your soul. His mouth . . . that sensual mouth of his, the upper lip being a little smaller than the bottom lip. His dimples which can make your legs go all shaky when used full force. His chin which was dominating his entire face, making it even more handsome.

Chakotay had always had an impact on me even at the beginning of our time in the Delta Quad. Not that I would have admitted it at that time. Yet on the day he called me it was different. Only then did I realize what I was missing - had been missing for eight years. Oh, I'm not talking about sex, although I had been missing that, too. I'm not talking about love either, at least not really. Or maybe I am? It is quite difficult to define love even if you've experienced it yourself, because love has many faces. It can be unconditional or selfish, beautiful or cruel, strengthen or destroy you. Love is a roller coaster of emotions.

Someone once said "Immature love is when you say, ‘I love you because I need you.' Mature love is when you say, ‘I need you because I love you.'"

I totally agree on this. And it was the first thing that came to my mind - after a long pause of thinking nothing - as I saw Chakotay on my screen. In the past, my love used to be selfish. I loved Cheb, Justin, and even Mark just for the sake of loving someone. In those days, I felt like I needed a man to love me. But do not get me wrong, I'm not trying to run my former boyfriends down. I'm merely showing the differences between then and now. With Chakotay I'm not blinded by my love. I used to think that Justin was the man of my dreams, but in restrospect, if we had married, we certainly would have divorced after some time. Not only I was selfish in my love to him, but he was selfish, too. It took me a long time to realize that, and thinking about Justin's death certainly made me sick of grief. But love can be blind, and so I refused to acknowledge Justin's not so good character suits as he was still alive.

As I said, with Chakotay it's different. When I look at him I see the whole person he is, not only his good sides. It doesn't change my feelings for him, however. Is that not what love is really about? Taking people as they are? With all their qualities and weaknesses? If not, then we all would live a lie. If we don't see our partners as they are, it likely can destroy us one day.

When I was a little child, my mom often read fairy tales to me. I used to listen carefully, and afterwards I asked her if the men in those tales loved their women they way I loved my mom and dad. Mom laughed then, telling me that was another kind of love, one that would hold an entire life and only between men and women. She confused me, and so I asked about what the difference was. She said, "This kind of love, which you want to know about, is when the man in your life lights up your day with his mere presence. When he is there for you in good and bad times. When he comforts you, laughs with you, just talks to you, and simply makes your life worth living. When he does all these things, then he accepts you for who you really are. That is love." I was still confused then, but my mom had that far away look on her face, and I didn't want to bother her with questions. As I grew up, I realized where that look had come from. She was thinking of my dad as she explained love to me.

When I now think of Chakotay my mom's explanation enters my mind. He is everything my mom said a man must be like . . . and more. But that didn't hit home until I saw him on my screen. He still had that longing look in his eyes, but he didn't mention his feelings for me. I was not surprised. Long years of being pushed away had made him cautious. Instead he invited me to his new home. He was visibly surprised, though, as I accepted his invitation immediately. Obviously, he thought I would find some excuse for not being able to. After all, he had made clear that we would be alone if I chose to come.

The rest is history. I arrived at his house and immediately fell in love with it. It almost looked like my parent's house, although that was by mere chance. He had never seen our house, so he couldn't have bought his house with thoughts of impressing me.

The first thing I noticed about Chakotay was his uneasiness towards me. It confused me for a second or two before realization dawned. He didn't recognize me as Kathryn, for he had never really known the real me. Certainly, he had got to see glimpses of Kathryn now and then, mostly during our time on New Earth, but the real me had never, ever shown up completely. Eventually, he treated me like the friend I was . . . chose to be a long time ago.

As Chakotay caught view of my bag he frowned. He obviously didn't suppose that I would like to stay for longer than the afternoon, but I knew him well. He was not upset that I decided over his head. In fact, he seemed happy, like I knew he would. He took my bag and led me into his house.

It wasn't until later that evening that I chose to make my intentions more obvious, although not exactly on purpose. After long hours of talking about our childhood I fell asleep on his shoulder. I guess it had to do with the warmth I felt in his presence, and so I made myself more comfortable and shifted position until my head came to rest on his lap. Chakotay didn't wake me nor did he move one inch, I think, but some time later I woke up. I felt his eyes on me and thus I pretended to still be asleep. I didn't want to intrude on that moment, although I'm not quite sure why . . . even now I am not.

The picture I saw as I eventually opened my eyes was . . . hard to describe. Chakotay had the strangest expression on his face. It was a mixture of his love and needs but also of something I couldn't define. It was some kind of fear, I think. I had no clue what he was afraid of, though. But now I know it. The moment our eyes met, he was most vulnerable. I held the power over his being in my hands. My choice would change his life - one way or another. I could clearly read in his eyes that I had the power to make him the happiest man in the universe . . . or to destroy him, depending on my willingness to take what he had to offer.

The decision was an easy one, but Chakotay didn't know that of course. Only later I told him about it. But I didn't voice my decision. Instead I let my eyes do all the talking. The eyes are the mirror to the soul and I offered him everything that was me. I offered him the chance of love . . .

His arms wrap around me. So he's finished his meditation.

I smile and turn in his arms, facing the man I love. Even after many years of being married he still lights up my day. He still is there for me, comforts me, laughs with me, just talks to me . . . and simply makes my life worth living.

THE END

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