Vows | PG | Star Trek: Voyager
Title: Vows
Fandom: Janeway, Star Trek: Voyager
Rating: PG
Word Count: 865
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: Right. So. Um. Here’s the thing. I am CRAZY nervous about this one as this is a particularly new and scary fandom for me, but I’m hopelessly hooked (thanksalot, kitnkabootle) and this idea wouldn’t get out of my head once it entered it. So…there you have it. Be gentle with me…or I’ll send the scary space squares (formerly known as Borg cubes) after you. Comments are love!
-
When Kathryn Janeway wrenches her eyes open, abruptly pulling herself from her uneasy sleep, she is staring up at the large window. The view is the same as ever: the same dark sky littered with stars. She watches them, her eyes focusing on the faraway bundles of luminously burning gases, feeling her pulse begin to slow to its normal cadence. It is the same view she’s seen for years and not for the first time, she wonders if it will ever change.
She becomes uneasy whenever pessimism clouds her outlook and so Kathryn heaves herself into a seated position, leaning back against the plush cushions of her pillows in her attempt to shake it off. Drawing her knees to her chest, she rests her sweat-slick head in her hands and sighs.
She is awake and the dream is over, but she can still feel its presence looming around her like heavy, stagnant air. It clings to her and she rubs at her damp temples in her attempt to liberate the hold that the dream has over her.
It is a dream that she’s had before and a dream she will surely have again, but each night that it resurfaces leaves her feeling unsteady and anxious. It’s as if her mind taps into her basest fears, the ones that make her less a self-assured captain and more a lost woman, and haunt her when she’s at her most vulnerable.
Kathryn accepts that she is a woman of flesh and blood, a woman who experiences fear and loneliness and fragility. She locks these emotions away, revealing them only to herself in instances such as this, locked within the privacy of her quarters where no one will see that she’s less of a captain because of them. No - that’s not right exactly. She’s good at what she does and her emotions are simply an extension of her humanity, but she fears that one day they will cloud her judgment or get in the way of her work.
These dreams don’t help. She looks to sleep as her escape, as her chance to recharge and face another day within the deep recesses of space. Sleep, it seems, has other intentions for her.
Tonight, and for several nights past, she’s had the same dream. She’s in her dress uniform but also wearing a veil of human marriage tradition. She is surrounded by her crew. And, in distant words that echo throughout the otherwise silent bridge, Kathryn says, “I take thee, Voyager…”
Kathryn shudders to recall the dream and stalks out of bed, heading for the bathroom. She fills the basin of the sink with cool, clear water, cups it within her hands, and splashes it over her face. She repeats the process once, twice, three times before she allows the sink to drain and the water on her face to slide down the column of her throat and collect in the peach silk of her nightgown.
In her dreams, her greatest fear manifests itself: that there is no hope, no love, no life apart from Voyager. She took on the responsibility of her ship and of her crew, but somewhere in the back of her mind had always been the glimmer of hope that it wouldn’t become her everything. She had, once upon a time, a man waiting for her on Earth. Now, she has the love of a female crew member, a subordinate, that she dares never express.
The thought that she’ll forgo any chance of personal happiness because of the vows she made as a captain clenches painfully at her heart and tugs something akin to a sob from her throat. She has her love, which she’d never expected or hoped for, and it sits unspoken within her. She decides that having this unexpressed love is worse than never having known it at all.
There is the possibility that she will not make it home alive. The vastly unexplored space of the Delta Quadrant exposes them to any number of dangers that are impossible to predict. She has no doubts in her ability to lead her crew with a sound mind that will allow them to fight for their lives, but she cannot control what lies before them. Sheer willpower is not enough to get them safely home, and it is not enough to allow her what she yearns for.
Kathryn wipes her face on a towel and heads back into bed, staring once more out at the open space before her. She does not regret the choices she’s made, but on nights like this she does hate her staunch stubbornness to do what’s best for her crew at her own expense. It pains her to give up her hope, her happiness, her love.
Voyager is her job, her home, her wife, her child, her friend. To renege on her duties as captain would be to turn her back on her ship, and so she must turn her back on her own chance at happiness.
She eases herself beneath the now-cool sheets and closes her eyes, imagining instead an alternative life in which she is able to be Captain Janeway and also the lover of her Chief Engineer.
---
Fandom: Janeway, Star Trek: Voyager
Rating: PG
Word Count: 865
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: Right. So. Um. Here’s the thing. I am CRAZY nervous about this one as this is a particularly new and scary fandom for me, but I’m hopelessly hooked (thanksalot, kitnkabootle) and this idea wouldn’t get out of my head once it entered it. So…there you have it. Be gentle with me…or I’ll send the scary space squares (formerly known as Borg cubes) after you. Comments are love!
-
When Kathryn Janeway wrenches her eyes open, abruptly pulling herself from her uneasy sleep, she is staring up at the large window. The view is the same as ever: the same dark sky littered with stars. She watches them, her eyes focusing on the faraway bundles of luminously burning gases, feeling her pulse begin to slow to its normal cadence. It is the same view she’s seen for years and not for the first time, she wonders if it will ever change.
She becomes uneasy whenever pessimism clouds her outlook and so Kathryn heaves herself into a seated position, leaning back against the plush cushions of her pillows in her attempt to shake it off. Drawing her knees to her chest, she rests her sweat-slick head in her hands and sighs.
She is awake and the dream is over, but she can still feel its presence looming around her like heavy, stagnant air. It clings to her and she rubs at her damp temples in her attempt to liberate the hold that the dream has over her.
It is a dream that she’s had before and a dream she will surely have again, but each night that it resurfaces leaves her feeling unsteady and anxious. It’s as if her mind taps into her basest fears, the ones that make her less a self-assured captain and more a lost woman, and haunt her when she’s at her most vulnerable.
Kathryn accepts that she is a woman of flesh and blood, a woman who experiences fear and loneliness and fragility. She locks these emotions away, revealing them only to herself in instances such as this, locked within the privacy of her quarters where no one will see that she’s less of a captain because of them. No - that’s not right exactly. She’s good at what she does and her emotions are simply an extension of her humanity, but she fears that one day they will cloud her judgment or get in the way of her work.
These dreams don’t help. She looks to sleep as her escape, as her chance to recharge and face another day within the deep recesses of space. Sleep, it seems, has other intentions for her.
Tonight, and for several nights past, she’s had the same dream. She’s in her dress uniform but also wearing a veil of human marriage tradition. She is surrounded by her crew. And, in distant words that echo throughout the otherwise silent bridge, Kathryn says, “I take thee, Voyager…”
Kathryn shudders to recall the dream and stalks out of bed, heading for the bathroom. She fills the basin of the sink with cool, clear water, cups it within her hands, and splashes it over her face. She repeats the process once, twice, three times before she allows the sink to drain and the water on her face to slide down the column of her throat and collect in the peach silk of her nightgown.
In her dreams, her greatest fear manifests itself: that there is no hope, no love, no life apart from Voyager. She took on the responsibility of her ship and of her crew, but somewhere in the back of her mind had always been the glimmer of hope that it wouldn’t become her everything. She had, once upon a time, a man waiting for her on Earth. Now, she has the love of a female crew member, a subordinate, that she dares never express.
The thought that she’ll forgo any chance of personal happiness because of the vows she made as a captain clenches painfully at her heart and tugs something akin to a sob from her throat. She has her love, which she’d never expected or hoped for, and it sits unspoken within her. She decides that having this unexpressed love is worse than never having known it at all.
There is the possibility that she will not make it home alive. The vastly unexplored space of the Delta Quadrant exposes them to any number of dangers that are impossible to predict. She has no doubts in her ability to lead her crew with a sound mind that will allow them to fight for their lives, but she cannot control what lies before them. Sheer willpower is not enough to get them safely home, and it is not enough to allow her what she yearns for.
Kathryn wipes her face on a towel and heads back into bed, staring once more out at the open space before her. She does not regret the choices she’s made, but on nights like this she does hate her staunch stubbornness to do what’s best for her crew at her own expense. It pains her to give up her hope, her happiness, her love.
Voyager is her job, her home, her wife, her child, her friend. To renege on her duties as captain would be to turn her back on her ship, and so she must turn her back on her own chance at happiness.
She eases herself beneath the now-cool sheets and closes her eyes, imagining instead an alternative life in which she is able to be Captain Janeway and also the lover of her Chief Engineer.
---