DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc and Viacom. The story contents are the creation and property of Djinn and are copyright (c) 2001 by Djinn. This story is Rated PG-13.
Crippled Queen
by Djinn
The parades are long
over. I stare at a sky no longer filled
with fireworks and laser images. I've
survived the debriefs, the speeches, the medals, the inquiries. And my crew has survived them. All of my crew. Star Fleet was not interested in prosecuting
my former Maquis crewman. They wanted
only to laud us. After the Dominion War,
the Federation needed heroes, needed a celebration. We were it.
I sip my coffee. It's bitter.
Fifty days ago, I couldn't believe I would ever give this nectar
up. But already it's gone sour. It's come to represent Voyager and
everything that meant for me. Everything
that's gone. I can see how the memories
would have turned bitter for Admiral Janeway, because already I feel as though
I'm losing my grasp on a feeling, a way of life that I thought would be with me
always. My family is dispersed. And I'm alone.
And that's the greatest irony
of all. That, I think, is what Admiral
Janeway was really trying to prevent.
Winding up alone. And bitter. And damaged.
I couldn't imagine becoming her.
Now I see her face in the mirror daily.
Threatening me with her loneliness.
I know she lied. She lied about the most important thing of
all. Why I had to save Seven. She told me Chakotay would never
recover. But I've considered that as
I've watched Chakotay and Seven together.
I've thought of what the Admiral said.
And she wasn't thinking of him.
The person destroyed when Seven died was Admiral Janeway, not
Chakotay. I know him. Perhaps better than I know anyone. He has the gift of great love. It's a part of him. And he knows how to mourn. And to move on. I've seen him do it. I've seen him mourn us. And I've seen him move on.
I think of her, that Admiral
Janeway, and what it must have been like to watch for three years while the two
people she cared the most for discovered each other, fell ever deeper into
love. And I know now what she wouldn't
say. I know that it killed her
inside. For she loved them both. Truly loved them. But they'd come to represent too much to her
to ever just be a recipient of her affection.
Perhaps I should stop saying
"she" and "her" when referring to myself. I should be brave, if only in the privacy of
my own log. I loved them both. Yes, that is better. More honest.
More raw.
I loved them both.
Chakotay was the person I
would have loved if I had been afraid enough.
Afraid that the future I wanted, a future back on Earth, would never
happen. He represented giving up that
dream. The best man I have ever known,
will ever know, and I made him into my white flag. Pitiful.
And Seven. The person I would have loved if I hadn't
been afraid. I acted as if I had a
mother's affection for her, but it went so much deeper than that. I loved her.
I'd freed her, helped her find her own way. I'd wanted so much for her. For us.
But I was afraid. Afraid to reach
out to her for love. I was the strong
one, the one who was leading her. How
could I risk it? How could I lose myself
in her? Assimilation would have been
sweet. But I was afraid.
And now they're
together. I know what she's feeling, or
at least a small portion of it. Even as
a neophyte in the way of emotions, Seven probably
feels a thousand times more than I've ever allowed myself to experience. But I remember the heady feeling of
Chakotay's passion. I know what it's
like to have his love. I had it for
years. But I threw it away. That he's my friend at all speaks volumes of
his capacity for forgiveness.
And he forgave me so
much. Those fights we had during our
first encounter with the Borg, the later arguments. I never fought fair with him. I used his love against him so many
times. And kept him close to me even
though I knew that what I could give him would never make him whole. I slept with him long after I had closed down
emotionally. He kept hoping, but
eventually even he gave up. And Seven
was waiting. What a prize for such
suffering.
I have a little secret. In my private holodeck files is a recreation
of New Earth. A New Earth that we were
never rescued from. I used to go there
often. It was my haven long before that
fair town was created. There I could be
a Janeway that hadn't changed, hadn't grown cold and obsessed. There I could love Chakotay as I was meant to
do. I could tell a hologram all the
things that I could never—would never—say to the real Chakotay. I could be free, lost in a time when we were
happy. When Seven didn't exist. For either of us.
Seven. My heart constricts when I think of her. I know that Admiral Janeway told her of her
future. Spoke of the death that waited
for her if we'd continued on the path I'd chosen. But I don't think that's all she told
her. No, Seven
learned every sort of truth that day. I
know because she's looked at me differently since that time. She's avoided me. I used to think it was because I disgusted
her. And I do. But not for the reason I first thought. Why would a Borg care what sex her lover
was? She doesn't hate me for loving
her. She hates me for being afraid to
love her. All my lessons of humanity,
and I was too cowardly to show her the most important thing of all. But maybe that was my gift to Chakotay. An unspoiled canvas on which to paint his
love. I envy Seven. And I envy him.
If I were an honest woman, I
wouldn't have just paused the log to get a tissue. I would have let that be recorded too. My tears.
But I'm not an honest woman.
Captain Janeway doesn't cry. I'm
tough. I'm focused. And later I'll be hard and obsessed. But with what? The next time, when I'm old and haunted by
memories, what will I change then? Will
I go back even further? Run to the time
before Chakotay and Seven become involved?
Will I try to make her fall in love with me? Will I try to make him happy?
But no. I won't interfere again. I won't take such a risk with the
future. But maybe Admiral Janeway said
that too. And she did it anyway just
like I might. Perhaps I've done it many
times. Altered the past only to find out
that the end result was the same. No
matter what I do, I'm alone. No matter
what I change, that remains the same.
But I think I won't make the
same mistake my older self made. For I'll have the years she didn't to sit
here in safety and analyze what's happened.
She had the luxury of sixteen years of denial while she brought her
family home. And she brought mine home
too. I owe her for that.
But I pity her for that
too. She was ready to die. She wanted to die. She couldn't wait for it. I don't want to be that way. I don't want to die alone, with only a Borg
for company. Two crippled queens waiting
for the end. Hoping that this time
things will change.
I don't know how many times
an Admiral Kathryn Janeway has gone back to the past. Knowing me, it's many. But I know it's time to stop blaming the
past. For the fault lies in a place much
closer at hand. The blame lies inside of
me. I'm alone because I can't love. There I've said it. I can't love.
Not the right way, not the healthy way.
Not the way that makes you less alone than you were to begin with. I know that now. I can't blame anyone but myself. If I want to change the way things happened,
I would have to change myself. And I
know that isn't going to happen by going back in time. I can't change the future by going to the
past. But maybe, I can change the past
by the way I act in the future. I've
been reading a lot of temporal mechanics.
Time is far more fluid than we truly understand. What we do now ripples out in all
directions. Forward...and backward. There really is no time like the present. Or rather all times are the present. Everything happens at once.
I can work with that. I can try to learn how to open up. To accept the love people
want to give me. It won't be easy. It really is against my nature. But maybe, little by little, I can let them
in. Become just a shade less closed to
the possibility of loving someone. And
maybe then the memories of a love that could have been and love that never will
be, won't seem so bitter. And neither
will this coffee.
Save log. Janeway out.
FIN