HAND ME YOUR HEART

Rated R

This time the fight seemed serious. Kathryn Janeway pondered the disagreement between herself and her first officer. The Commander had vehemently opposed her decision to pursue the Federation ship, The Equinox. He had resisted her every step of the way, and although the end result had been favorable, the gulf between the command team had widened.

On the bridge they sat so close; their chairs a mere puff of breath apart. In the past, they had unconsciously aligned their bodies towards each other, the slope of their shoulders reflecting the pull of their attraction. Their hands had often hovered momentarily in the air, uncertain of where to place the touch; a shoulder, an arm or a hand. Often they shared the same console, and their eyes would meet and communicate in silent acknowledgement of the bond between them.

You are mine Kathryn, you just haven't realized it yet, Chakotay's eyes, warm and deep, would say to her over the padded armrest.

In your dreams, Commander, her eyes would reply. She would meet his eyes for a charged second too long before pulling away.

Five years. For over five years Voyager had been in the Delta Quadrant, and the backward and forwards pull and sway of the command team was ceaseless. Their lives intertwined together in every way but one. The slow waltz of attraction, the dip and sway of measured movement had never culminated in an explosion of physical passion. They both took a kind of comfort in the rhythm of flirtation, pushing a boundary slightly askew, then enforcing a parameter to re-establish the balance.

But now a wall was in place; brick by brick the boundary was set. This latest disagreement over the morals of an action had pushed a trench between the command chairs.

Chakotay's arm strayed less over the common center rest. He rarely met her eyes.

She spent more time in her ready room; she found she couldn't face the unspoken censor of her actions. She missed him.

The professional disagreement spilled over into their personal lives too. Holodeck time and working dinners faded into the haze of the streaking stars. He spent more time with Tom and B'Elanna; she spent countless hours alone.

One night, a night like many others, Kathryn was in her quarters. It was an evening that she previously might have spent with Chakotay; cooking or replicating and enjoying the low simmering flirtation and exchange of opinions that characterized their relationship. But this breach was not easily healed and she was alone.

Kathryn replicated a glass of wine and carried it over to the viewport.

"Computer, how long has Voyager been in the Delta Quadrant?" The question was impulsive, she wasn't sure she wanted the answer.

"Five years and twelve days." The unisex voice answered her dispassionately.

"Computer, in earth days, what is the date?"

"The date is February 10, 2376."

The date sounded a faint chord of memory, but she dismissed it and went to sit on the couch.

Her console pinged, indicating an incoming message. She crossed to the terminal and activated it. To her surprise it was a text message, one of the old fashioned type that people rarely used anymore since the advent of the visual message.

Surprisingly, it wasn't the three lines of status information she expected. Instead it appeared to be a personal message. Intrigued, she sat down and started to read the first few lines.

Kathryn.

Kathryn my heart. I hope that you take the time to read this. I know that often you skip over what you call the inconsequential parts of your day.

I am writing this, sitting by myself in my room, wondering what has happened to us. Right now I feel so distant from you, and I don't know how to bridge the gap. I miss you my love; I miss our everyday closeness; I miss the touch of your hand. To me you are more than your Starfleet uniform. To me you are the woman that I love.

She frowned slightly. Where had this message come from and more importantly who had sent it?

She wondered if it was some kind of a joke, but couldn't understand why anyone would play a trick like that on her. Maybe it had been misdirected, but her name on the first line seemed to eliminate that possibility. There were no other Kathryn's on the ship. She hit a key, to scroll down the message to read more, but it disappeared from the console. She tried to retrieve it, but it had vanished without a trace.

She replicated a second glass of wine and tried to put the message out of her mind. It stirred too many memories of slowness and intimacy, things she no longer had the luxury of in her life.

On the bridge the next day, Chakotay caught her eye and smiled slightly. She smiled back in return. She had missed him. Emboldened, she asked him to join her for lunch in the messhall. He accepted, but lunchtime found her in a Jeffries tube on deck 11, swearing at an access panel and she had to call Chakotay to cancel.

Back in her quarters that night, she was sitting on the couch, trying to concentrate on Tuvok's security report when her console alerted her to an incoming message. She crossed to look.

Like the night before this one was a text message. It appeared to follow on from the previous night's message.

Kathryn, I know I have never told this to your face, but it is often thoughts of you that get me through the day. I'm so sorry the distance between us is so great. I love you.

The message trailed off like the previous one. She pondered, trying to think who could have sent her such a missive. Even a couple of months ago, she would have assumed it was Chakotay. Surely it couldn't be him? She thought back to his shy, diffident smile on the bridge this morning. Maybe he was missing their closeness as much as she. She knew he had feelings for her on New Earth, when they were isolated together on their paradise planet; then too she had come close to admitting her love for him. She had been a heartbeat from pulling his dark head down to hers and claiming his lips in a long kiss. Only the lingering faint hope that Voyager would return for them had kept her from succumbing to the temptation his arms offered.

Was Chakotay the author of the messages after all? Was this his way of bridging the gap between them, and maybe letting her know he still wanted more?

She sighed and dropped her head onto her folded arms.

She studied him closely the next day. Responded to his tentative overtures of reconciliation, and this time they managed to keep their lunch date.

Neelix served them blue deviled eggs and salad greens from airponics. No one approached them.

Kathryn studied him. Could he have written that he loved her?

Chakotay smiled, touched her hand. His eyes were warm and his gaze never strayed from her. She saw the echo of their former flirtation in his eyes. He was still reserved, but she sensed him trying to rebuild their burned bridges. She followed his lead and let her eyes show some of their former caring for him.

That night, when the ping of the console alerted her to another incoming message, she was ready. Swiftly, she attempted to download the entire message. The message disappeared from the screen instantly, and another one took its place.

Kathryn, don't be so impatient. I know you so well. Since when could you ever wait for anything you wanted? This time you are going to have to. Patience my love, I am hoping you think that it is, that I am, worth the wait. Remember when you got the first part of the message two days ago? The message was triggered by the date, the earthdate of February 10. Unlike you, I have always used earthdates to remind me of special times. Do you remember Kathryn? What does that date mean to you, to us? And in two days time it will be Valentine's Day. The day when it is customary to send messages of love to your lover, or to the person you want to be your lover. I know Kathryn; you always scoffed at the idea and said you didn't want anything to do with it. But this year, I am hoping to make it special for you. I am hoping in a small way to close the distance between us. Hold onto the fact that I love you.

The message ended, and she sat thinking, staring at the screen. February 10. Why was that date important?

"Computer, play personal logs of Captain Janeway for earthdate February 10, 2375."

The log displayed on the screen and swiftly she reviewed it. There was little. Routine stuff. She scanned over her personal logs slowly, year by year, looking for clues.

"Computer, display personal log of Captain Janeway for earthdate February 10, 2373."

"Unable to comply. Captain Janeway was not on the ship on that date."

She remembered. Three years ago, she and Chakotay had been stranded on New Earth, their paradise planet. Her logs for those months were not in open form on the main computer. Whilst on New Earth, she had recorded her growing feelings for Chakotay, and her yearning for him in embarrassing, often explicit detail. When they had returned to Voyager, she had encrypted the logs and buried them deep in a hidden file so that no one could easily access them. But the meaning of the date had become clear to her.

She crossed back to the couch underneath the viewscreen and let her thoughts dwell on those days on New Earth. February 10. The day after the plasma storm. The night he had handed her his heart and she had chosen not to accept it.

He had rubbed her neck, with hot soothing fingers and she had fallen helplessly under the spell of those languorous stroking fingers, imagining them sliding like silk over the rest of her body. Her head fell back slightly, and she moaned, a small sound of sexual awareness. He had hesitated, recognizing the moment for the edge of forever that it was.

She panicked. There was no other word for it. She knew that there were only two possible outcomes to this. In the first she would find herself in his arms, pressed against him chest to breast as he wove his hands deep into the weight of her hair to hold her in place as he claimed her for his own with hot, slow lips before carrying her to his bed.

She took the second option; retreat. Summoning a smile for him, she made her excuses and left. She felt his eyes on her back as she retreated, and knew that he recognized her departure for the cowardice that it was.

She couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned, but knew that she had to make Chakotay understand. Her ordered mind wanted the pigeon back in his hole. She rehearsed what she would say to him in her head; and then rose to tell him that the path they both wanted to take would be left untrodden.

He had known of course what she would say, and forestalled her with a prepared speech of his own, a tale of such devotion and love that she was disarmed. She linked hands with him, palm to palm, and knew that whilst she could not accept what he offered just yet, neither would she refuse it outright.

She recalled herself to the present. That night, the night he offered his love, was three years ago. They had moved on from that point, but never close to the point of consummation.

So the messages were from Chakotay. There was no doubt left in her mind. He was wooing her under his own agenda, one that appeared to culminate on Valentine's Day.

She moved from the console and sat on the couch. Just what did he want from her? The messages implied he wanted more than a return to their friendship and flirtation. He was deliberately pushing her boundaries, nudging the protective shield, undermining it with his strategy.

You are mine Kathryn, you just haven't realized it yet. How often had his eyes relayed that message?

How she wanted it to be true. He was wrong, she had realized it; she just hadn't let herself accept it. She remembered the Valentine's Day three years ago on New Earth. Chakotay had brought her coffee in bed, and a carefully prepared breakfast, poached eggs, wild mushrooms, grilled Talaxian tomatoes. A wildflower on the tray.

"Wake up Kathryn," his laughing voice intruded into her dreams. "It's Valentine's Day."

She sat up, bleary eyed and tousled, her hair in disarray over her shoulders. In that first moment of disorientation, the sheet fell to her waist as she rubbed her eyes. When she had enough awareness to look at him, she found him staring at her breasts, outlined clearly through the thin material of her nightgown. The sheer white cotton was nearly transparent. She pulled up the sheet to cover herself and met his eyes. The hot look of arousal she found there shook her.

He recovered himself and sat down on the side of the bed.

"What did you get me for Valentine's Day, Chakotay?" Her voice was still husky from sleep.

He smiled at her. "Nothing except breakfast. I already gave you my heart. Maybe one day you can hand me yours."

He lent forward, kissed her softly on the cheek and rose to go.

"Stay." She caught his hand impulsively.

"No. You mean stay for breakfast. If I stay you will be breakfast."

He left, leaving her gazing after him.

She hadn't taken what he offered then and although she had sensed in the intervening years that he still offered it, now it was hidden layers deep under misunderstandings and professional disagreements. And now he was offering the hand of friendship and love once more. The compulsion to accept was fierce.

The next day on the bridge, she studied him covertly under lowered eyelashes. Chakotay her friend was emerging from behind the wall of Chakotay the cold. She flirted gently with him to try and gauge his reaction. His eyes flashed.

Don't toy with me Kathryn, she fancied they said. This time I mean it.

Maybe I want you to mean it this time. Her eyes communicated in reply. Deliberately she held his gaze a heartbeat too long, before dropping it to study his deep chest.

"Lunch today, Commander?" She cocked her head and smiled at him.

"I'd be delighted," he replied. "The messhall?"

Tom spun around in his chair to face them. "Doesn't sound very romantic to me," he said lounging back in his chair. "It's Valentine's Day tomorrow. You two should get into the mood a little."

She smiled to herself. Tom had given her the opening she needed. "Very well, Tom. Just to please you. Would you join me in my ready room for lunch, Commander?"

"Sounds good to me, Kathryn."

"Fine, I'll replicate something. Mr. Paris, you can tell us what culinary delights we missed by not going to the messhall. And, just to humor me Tom, try and keep your eyes on the road. Voyager doesn't drive herself you know."

"Yes Ma'am." Tom swiveled around again so that he at least appeared to be looking where he was going. Over his shoulder he said, "consider lunch a practice for dinner tomorrow night. Valentine's Day."

Chakotay chuckled. "We'll keep you posted."

She rose. "I'll be in my ready room. Commander, you have the bridge and I'll expect you in an hour."

As the door closed, she heard Tom's irrepressible voice. "See Chakotay, she's preparing for you."

The door closed and she didn't hear his reply.

An hour later, the door chimed.

"Come in, Chakotay." She watched as he walked into the room.

"Captain, reporting for lunch as ordered." The smile in his voice belayed the official words.

"And that's the only reason you're here?" She tilted her head, birdlike, to look at him.

"No. I'm here to have lunch with my friend. My best friend, who I've missed lately."

"Me too." She said the words softly, but he heard and reached out a hand towards her. His hand hovered in mid air for a moment, before she caught it in hers and wove her fingers through his.

"I've missed you too." The rush of emotion caught her unawares and she blinked hard, against stupid tears.

He caught her chin with his other hand and turned her face up to study it.

"Why so sad, Kathryn?" He wiped a gentle thumb under her eye, catching the drop of moisture.

"I guess I missed you more than you missed me." She tried to smile for him.

"I doubt that." She thought he would say more. He hesitated for a moment, his fingertips trailing on her cheek briefly before they dropped away.

She turned to the replicator, pressed buttons and waited whilst the food materialized.

"What have you got us for lunch?"

She jumped slightly as soundlessly he crept up behind her. She turned, a plate in each hand and he was too close.

She gazed up at him. "Vegetable curry. Lots of garlic. We can both stink together."

He moved back to allow her to set the plates down on the desk. "We can take it in turns to breathe over Tom as revenge for his unsubtle Valentine's Day comments."

Her hand shook slightly and she hoped he hadn't noticed. "Yes, Valentine's Day."

"A day for the giving..." he turned and looked directly at her,"...and receiving of hearts."

She looked at him, he was smiling at her and she opened her mouth to reply to him, give him some hint of her ambivalent state.

He placed a careful finger over her lips. "Kathryn, don't say anything. Have dinner with me tomorrow night. My quarters."

"All right."

Over lunch they worked on rebuilding their friendship. She thought moving that friendship forward a step would be better accomplished over dinner, when they were off duty.

You are mine Kathryn, and maybe you are beginning to realize it, she fancied his eyes were saying.

Maybe we can both let ourselves dream a little, her eyes replied.

She wanted to ask him about the messages he had been sending her, but something stopped her. She would ask him tomorrow. Her mind wasn't fully made up; she wanted what he was promising her, wanted it so badly, but the twin demons of protocol and parameters were still lurking in a corner of her mind. She decided to see what tonight's message told her. She was sure there would be one.

She waited impatiently in her quarters. At 20:00 the terminal pinged and she crossed over to it and activated the message. Once again it was an old-fashioned text message. She sat and started to read.

Kathryn, I am hoping that I am reaching you with my messages. I am just trying to bring us closer together again . So often you are two people to me; Captain Janeway and Kathryn. I know that Captain Janeway is part of you, but it is my Kathryn that I love the best.

If we have drifted apart lately, it is partly my fault. I know your position is a part of you, but sometimes it is hard for me to separate the two and then I realize that I am not the center of your universe, as I would like to be. So, I've finally admitted it. Kathryn, I would like to wake up with you every morning, and see you snuggled into my bed, your glorious hair tangled on my pillow, your hand tucked against my chest. I would like to kiss you awake every morning just to see the morning daze in your eyes soften to a look of love. And I want you to pull me into your body with all the passion you bring into your life.

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day my love. Watch for my message.

The screen went blank. Oh my. He wasn't mincing his words. He was letting her know exactly what he hoped for. His words had conjured up her own half-forgotten fantasies from New Earth. Dreams of his hands on her body, his mouth on hers, rousing the slumbering sexual passion of Kathryn Janeway. She hadn't let herself think of him in that way since they left New Earth, but the image, once retrieved from a folded corner of her mind wouldn't quietly subside again. On New Earth she hadn't let herself experience him in actuality. Now, she wondered if she could. She envisaged him naked. He was a big man, solidly built.

She had seem him topless countless times, wearing only a pair of shorts, and knew he had a broad, hairless chest. Golden and smooth. Many of her fantasies had involved licking the trickling sweat from that beautiful skin, and moving her lips slowly lower on his belly while he tangled his fingers in her hair, begging her to continue, move lower... She knew he had sturdy, muscular legs, lightly sprinkled with coarse, black hairs. An arrow of hair on his belly disappeared tantalizingly into his shorts. Nicely curved firm buttocks. From the shape of him, outlined in clinging wet shorts after swimming in the river on New Earth, she thought he was a big man all over.

She had constructed elaborate fantasies on their planet home. Scenarios of seduction and sex, cries of passion, words of love. Sometimes she had imagined surprising him by creeping up behind him and running her hands around his body; in other dreams he overrode her weak protests with low words of love and insistent hands.

Kathryn recalled herself to the present and found her hand was stroking her own breast, arousing and squeezing the nipple through her tunic. She could feel her moisture gathering between her legs. Thoughts and daydreams of him did this to her. Imagine what the reality would do.

Tomorrow was Valentine's Day. Tomorrow she was having dinner with Chakotay. She wondered whether he would try and seduce her with words or actions. The words in his messages were weaving a seductive picture; one of love and lust, passion and warmth. Although she could not recall making a conscious decision, she knew that she would accept what he was offering. Tomorrow they would be lovers.

She awoke on Valentine's Day and her first thoughts were that this time tomorrow she would not wake alone. She wondered how he slept; would he hold her close, enfolding her upon his chest, or would he spoon behind her, cupping a breast in his large hand? This time tomorrow would she be nuzzled awake by warm lips on the nape of her neck and a hard male ridge pressing against her bottom?

On the bridge, she fancied he looked at her with the knowledge of what would be. Was he imagining what they would do together later that night?

You are mine Kathryn; tonight you will truly be mine. His eyes were warm over the console and his hand was mere inches from hers.

She studied the long fingers on the armrest and imagined them roaming her body.

Tonight Chakotay? Yes. Tonight. Her eyes answered his.

She spent most of the day in her ready room; she didn't trust herself not to betray her anticipation to him if she spent the day by his side. Just before the end of the shift the door chime rang.

"Enter."

Chakotay walked into the room, leaving the door open.

"I'm going off duty now, Captain." His dancing eyes belied the formal tone of the words.

"Very well, Commander."

He turned to go. "And Kathryn," he looked back at her, "I expect you at 19:00. Don't be late and don't wear uniform. We don't want to disappoint Tom, do we?"

"No, heaven forbid we let a senior officer down." She smiled at him. "I'll be there, Chakotay."

In her quarters, she showered pulled on clean underwear, matching apricot-colored bra and panties and was standing looking in her closet, trying to decide what to wear when she heard the ping of her console. She crossed to look and found another text message. She activated it.

Happy Valentine's Day, Kathryn. I hope you are missing me as much as I'm missing you. I love you and can't wait to have you back with me in our bed. Until then, I hope you enjoy the surprise that Molly and I have made for you. It will play when you end this message. Only a week until your mission ends and you are back with me in San Francisco. Maybe then my love we can close this widening gap between us.

All my love, Mark

Molly? Her dog, Molly? Mark? For a few stunned moments she couldn't take it in. Why was Mark suddenly sending her a message? He was married now to someone else, they had both moved on. And where was Chakotay's message? Then with a wave of nausea she realized. There was no message from Chakotay; there never had been.

"Computer, when was this message placed into the data bank?"

"January 23, 2371."

The day that Voyager had left the Alpha Quadrant.

"Computer, why was this message left undelivered until now?" She already knew the answer, even as the computer confirmed her theory. The message was date triggered, and she had never requested the date on the trigger date of February 10 before now. February 10. Not just the day when Chakotay had told her he loved her on New Earth. Also the day that she and Mark had become engaged three years before that.

She ended the message, and watched numbly as Mark's Valentine's Day surprise played on the screen. A holovid of himself and Molly, romping in the park, close-ups of Molly's panting doggy face and a romantic shot of Mark and Molly snuggled together by the fireside in their home. Correction, his home now. Mark's voice was speaking in the background, asking her to think of the two of them waiting for her return.

"Only a week Kathryn, only a week until you return to me."

Tears were running down her cheeks as she watched the images. Tears for Mark, who had waited for so long without knowing what had happened to her before moving on; tears for Molly, wondering where her mistress was; tears for herself, standing alone, watching the man she had once loved. But the tears fell fastest and hottest as it finally sunk in that the messages she thought were from Chakotay were not and never had been. He had not spoken words of love, had not dreamed of waking with her in his bed.

She buried her face in her hands. This dinner tonight, it was only a dinner of friendship, another step towards rebuilding their shattered trust in each other. No more. The romantic overtones she thought she had seen in his eyes were only the warmth of friendship, and maybe a hint of mischief designed to tease Tom. Her heart thumped painfully in her chest and the feeling of desolation overwhelmed her. No, Chakotay would not lie in her arms tonight. She would never know the touch of his hands on her body.

She couldn't go to dinner with him now. She wasn't sure she could take his hand in friendship after she had prepared herself to take his body in love. Later she would, and be grateful for his stoic support by her side, but tonight she couldn't face him. He would know immediately that something was very wrong, and she didn't want to face the sympathy in his eyes when he realized that she had mistaken his friendship and flirting for something more.

She would call him shortly, when she had recovered herself enough that he wouldn't hear the tears choking her voice. She pulled on a robe and lay down on her bunk, staring blindly at the ceiling. She slept.

She awoke to a voice saying her name in concerned tones.

"Kathryn? Are you alright?"

She rolled over and found herself looking into Chakotay's eyes as he sat on the edge of the bed. She hadn't called him she realized, and now he had come to find her.

"You didn't answer my page," he was saying, "I let myself in." He hesitated.

His eyes were watching her, and she knew he couldn't avoid seeing her red eyes, puffy from crying, and disarranged hair. She pulled her robe closer around her body.

He sat down on the bed next to her. "Kathryn, I know you loved him, but you must try and move on. He's married to someone else now."

She gaped at him in puzzlement. "How..."

"The holovid is running out there," he said by way of explanation, "I saw Mark's message to you."

He took her hand, " Kathryn, you can't pine for him for ever. Let him go."

She looked into his eyes, seeing his concern for her, and a shadow of something else she couldn't define, and started to laugh. How ironic, that the man she loved thought that she was pining for someone else. She had been crying for what she couldn't have all right, but it wasn't Mark. He had quietly made way in her heart for Chakotay many years ago.

"Kathryn..." Chakotay seemed more concerned by her laughter than the earlier evidence of her tears. "Please, talk to me. Tell me about him, tell me why you can't let him go, but please, just talk to me."

Her hysterical laughter was fading back to tears and suddenly she was tired. Very tired. Rising, she belted the robe tightly around her and walked into the living quarters. Crossing to the screen, she stared for one last time at the image of Mark and Molly by the fire before deleting the message. Chakotay watched her silently.

"I'm sorry," she said, "but you couldn't be more wrong. That message you saw was one recorded five years ago. It was set to trigger on a certain date, but it never was activated until now. I am receiving messages I was supposed to have gotten five years ago. I'm not pining for Mark. I don't love him anymore, I wish him well."

He crossed on silent feet to her side. "Then why were you crying?"

She grew still. Frantically she searched her mind for a plausible explanation, anything but the truth.

"You can tell me," he said, "you can tell me anything." He wrapped his arms around her, bringing her close to his chest. She wondered if the soft brush in her hair was his lips. Chakotay her comforter. Her friend. She knew she should tell him, knew he wouldn't laugh at her, and the way she was standing right now, in the comfort of his loose embrace meant she didn't have to see the surprise and pity in his eyes.

"Four days ago, I received a text message. It was set to trigger on a certain date, February 10." She felt his start of surprise and realized that he recognized the date.

"It vanished before I could read all of it. I have been receiving parts of the message every evening since. They were romantic, they wished for a way to close the gap between myself and the writer. Then they talked of love, and wanting," her voice broke slightly, "and wanting me in his bed."

She hesitated. "I thought you had written them." She heard his swift intake of breath and plunged on, before she could lose her nerve.

"I misunderstood, Chakotay. I thought that you were trying once again to build more than friendship with me. I thought the date referred to the day you gave me your heart on New Earth. Somehow I had forgotten that February 10 was also the day Mark proposed to me."

"Kathryn..." His arms tightened around her. "It's okay, it was all my fault, you didn't do anything differently to what you've always done. I just interpreted your actions in a new light thinking that the messages were from you. I wanted them to be from you." She was silent, eyes closed, imagining the look of pity on his face.

He stepped away from her and tilted her face up so he could see her expression. "Were you going to give me your heart tonight?" The question was gentle.

Her curl-corner smile twitched faintly. "I was."

A shadow moved from his face, and she could see he was smiling. "I think we had better have dinner in my quarters after all."

"No, its okay. I'll be okay. I think it's best if we leave it tonight. You don't have to entertain me." She was stammering in her haste to absolve him of guilt.

He placed a gentle finger over her lips as he had done the other day in her ready room. "I know I don't, but I want to."

He tapped his comm badge and called for a site to site for the two of them to his quarters. She had a second to wonder what B'Elanna would make of that request before they materialized in his quarters. She looked around her. The lighting was low and soft music was playing. The small table was set in the corner, with champagne glasses, candles and flowers. It wasn't set for a working dinner, or for a dinner between friends. It was set for seduction.

She could feel his eyes on her face. She turned to face him.

"I gave you my heart three years ago on New Earth." he said quietly. "These last few days made me hope that maybe tonight, Valentine's Day, you would hand me yours."

She swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat and blinked back foolish tears. She lifted a hand to his face. "This morning I knew that tomorrow morning I would wake in your arms," she said. "This evening I thought that dream had been shattered. Now...maybe that dream is reality." She could see the tears in his eyes.

"I love you." His voice was unsteady with emotion.

"I love you too," she said. " I'd give you my heart but you already have it."

He framed her face with large hands. "Tonight you are going to sleep with me in my bed, skin to skin. Tomorrow morning, you are going to wake in my arms. For the rest of your life you are going to wake in my arms."

She gazed up at him, seeing the love he had hidden for so long openly scrawled over his face. "You're making plans for the rest of my life and you haven't even kissed me yet."

He smiled as he caught her invitation. Smoothing a thumb over her lips, he dropped his head and laid his mouth gently on hers. Although he was tender, there was nothing tentative about the kiss. He moved his lips persuasively, sucking on her lower one, sliding his tongue gently inside, to dual with hers.

She gasped at the feel of him, after years of imagination the reality made her head reel. He absorbed the small sound into his mouth, running his hands down her back to pull her closer to him. She kissed him back, harder, urgently, her hands on his shoulders, running up his neck into his soft hair. She could feel the stirrings of his arousal asserting itself, pressing into her stomach. This kiss went on and on until she was liquid with the wanting of him.

Slowly, gradually, he pulled back, softening and fading the kiss until his mouth left hers and she was boneless in his grasp.

"Kathryn," his voice was husky, "we've got a choice. Dinner then seduction, or seduction and then maybe dinner."

Her lips felt swollen from his kiss. "Seduce me over dinner. I wouldn't want your planning to go to waste."

Pressing a light kiss on her forehead, he took her hand and led her to the table. Pulling out her chair, he seated her chivalrously, spreading a linen napkin on her lap. He crossed to the replicator and punched in the order.

Crossing back to the table, he put a plate of raspberries down between them. He opened the bottle of champagne that was chilling in the icebucket and poured them each a glass.

"To us, Kathryn."

"Yes. To us. Together."

Instead of sitting across from her, he pulled his chair next to her, and picking up one of the fruit in his fingers, he placed it on her lips.

She opened her mouth slightly and he pushed it inside. Her lips closed around his fingers, and she ran her tongue over his finger pads, before sucking on each one in turn. She watched him, seeing the little shudders he couldn't suppress ripple across his frame. She picked up a second fruit from the bowl, and without breaking eye contact, gently and slowly sucked it into her mouth.

He leant forward and kissed her, his lips softer and sweeter than any fruit.

She leant into his kiss, turning to face him, placing her hands on his thighs, feeling hard muscles shift underneath the soft linen pants.

He kissed her back, his tongue flickering over her lips, his own hands creeping up the edge of her thighs, over the cotton bathrobe she still wore. Picking up another fruit, he pressed it on her lips, but when she parted them to receive it, he dropped the berry.

His eyes twinkled. "Clumsy me."

She looked down at the squashed, red berry splattered on the slope of her breast. "You better get it back."

He moved closer, and she parted her thighs, allowing him to move between. His lips settled on the side of her neck and she felt him move slowly and silently, questing with hot lips down to her collarbone. He moved the neck of the robe out of the way and those seeking lips traveled further down the slope of her breast.

She flung her head back, allowing him easier access and felt his lips inch their way slowly down, then open over the berry. His tongue lapped the juice from her skin.

When he would have moved away, she sighed slightly and pressed a gentle hand to the back of his head, holding him to her breast. His lips returned, and she felt them quest their way over the slope of her breast, running along the lace edge of her bra. Her nipples pebbled, uncomfortably hard against the constricting fabric. His hands left her thighs and moved to the tie of the robe. One tug and it fell free and his hands moved unencumbered to the soft skin at her waist.

'Kathryn," his voice was muffled by her breast. "How hungry are you?"

He raised his head, and she saw his eyes glittering with passion, overlying the warmth and love.

In answer, she pushed him away and stood up. The robe drooped open and she felt his eyes rake her body, studying curves and skin previously denied to him. He stood too, taking the hand she proffered.

She stepped up close to him, the hum of need and excitement coursing through her urging her on. With an unsteady finger, she traced his lips.

"Did you really think we could wait until after dinner?" She felt him smile against her fingers, before she took his hand and led him into his bedroom.

Their lovemaking was both urgent and gentle. Five years of denial, love that could not be revealed and suppressed emotion now led to an overflow of tears and joy in equal measures. He refused to be hurried. When she writhed underneath his seeking hands, pleading with him to enter her, he slowed his lips and hands to a crawl, coaxing her inexorably from peak to peak. She let her hands roam his hard body too, smoothing his golden skin, slipping silently over his pleasure points, trying to absorb his essence and his very soul through her hands and mouth.

He was the sort of lover that dreams were made of. She acknowledged this to herself as she felt his mouth move and seek between her legs yet again. But he was silken flesh, ridged muscle and oh, so very alive. Even as she convulsed under his hands and mouth, she was humming with joy that the phantom lover of her dreams was here with her, had taken her to his bed and was intent on loving her.

The maelstrom of emotion within her broke through the crystal barrier, shattering her control and allowing him fully into her heart. His words wove cradles of comfort to chase away the final shards of loneliness. His love, the love that had always been hers, surrounded her, as comfortable as an old sweater, as heady as sweet summer wine.

Chakotay cried unashamedly when he finally slid inside her, wetting her neck with hot tears as he sobbed her name and his love for her. She cradled him between her thighs; feeling his gentle strength and pulsating heat as they closed the remaining distance between them. As they moved together, she felt the slow circles of fate closing, felt the absolute rightness of what they were doing. Truly this was how their universe should be.

Captain and First Officer entered the bridge together the next morning. Greetings were exchanged with the rest of the senior staff, the hand over from Gamma shift accomplished and the team settled into their chairs in the center of the bridge.

Alpha shift settled into its normal pattern. Harry fretted over the upcoming performance of his clarinet trio. Tom described his Valentine's day dinner with B'Elanna on the holodeck. Tuvok listened stoically as always.

Tom swiveled around in his chair. "So," he said. "How was your Valentine's Day, Captain?"

"Very pleasant, thanks Tom."

Tom's eye's shifted to Chakotay, trying to gauge the mood between the Command Team. "Did you have a romantic dinner together?"

"We had dinner," said Chakotay. His lips twitched slightly as he tried to suppress a smile.

"Was he romantic, Captain?" Tom was nothing if not persistent.

"What do you think, Tom?"

"Chakotay's a romantic guy, he probably wooed you."

"The observation is flawed, Mr. Paris." Tuvok spoke up from tactical. "The Commander is not 'a romantic guy' with everyone. For example, I have never noticed the Commander behaving in a romantic manner to me."

"Well, he probably doesn't find you very attractive. No offence of course, Tuvok."

"And you are saying, that the Commander does find the Captain attractive?"

"But of course..." Tom's voice faded unnoticed into the background.

Kathryn looked at Chakotay, her lover, her everything. Her met her eyes.

You are mine Kathryn, my love, his eyes said to her

I know I am, hers replied.