PICTURE PERFECT |
~ A PG-13 Pictoral Story ~
Story and Text by Delta Story
Fiddled Pictures by Camryn
Usual disclaimers - CBS/Paramount/Viacom or whatever they're calling themselves today own all names, titles and get the profit; we're just in this for a good time!
Many, many thanks to the wonderful Camryn, for her fiddled pictures that continue to inspire with each new one.
From the beginning - from that fateful chase into the Badlands and our turbulent toss into the Delta Quadrant - I knew that our relationship would transcend the ordinary... that it would be one of sizzle and spark, opposites attracting with the pull of the forbidden.
We felt it with that first encounter, as our eyes met, immediately seeing past the sworn enemies, the call of duty and honor - two lonely people, faced with the unknown, stripped of pretension, acknowledging raw truths of spirit. I saw great strength in your delicate lace, and you found softness in my weathered leather.
Alike but different, challenging each other on all levels, my official position was dictated as one to be your foil, your sounding board, to help you make the difficult decisions.
Yet it was you who became my guiding light, overcoming my hate and bitterness, allowing me to learn how to truly work as a team... and to love myself again. As the captain, you earned my trust and confidence; as my friend, you gave me strength and kindness.
As our journey lengthened into long weeks and even longer months, we found that our relationship stepped beyond the formality of protocol and uniforms. There were times when we could be just friends, stepping down from the command structure designated by rank and duty.
You freely gave your touches to all - that's the way you are - but soon I felt more than just a touch when your fingers found a resting spot on me... a fire flew through them, entering me and winding a path to my heart.
Soon we discovered that we wanted... no, needed... so much more than what respect for position or casual friendship could offer - touches, away from the eyes of our shipboard community, seeking out the privacy of two, longing for more than we should allow.
Then came that fateful day when you stumbled getting into the turbolift, your body falling against mine... my body hoping against hope that you wouldn't move; your body not wanting to aright itself again but savoring in the closeness of our beings.
I turned and fell into your waiting arms; you welcomed me as more than a friend. Your embrace opened the gate, inviting me into your life, allowing us to begin walking along our own special pathway.
Daily duties became easier to bear as we now had our private escape into each other, shared burdens balanced by shared joy.
I had forgotten how good it was to laugh freely, experiencing the pleasure of sharing life's ups and downs with a friend... no, more than a friend: a soul mate.
Then came the time when we were forced to acknowledge our deepest feelings and desires for one another, obliging us to depend upon each other for all our needs - we were entirely alone on a distant planet, thinking we might be there forever, separated eternally from Voyager by a microscopic enemy.
Our initial thoughts were of separation and desolation, even though we had each other... our dreams of togetherness hampered by the loss of everything and everyone else on our lives.
But we had each other, and knew that given Fate's plan, we could overcome the obstacles, perhaps even finding a way back to Voyager and completing the journey with our crew and friends.
New Earth - as we came to call our exiled planet - afforded us the time to explore not just our new world of habitation but also the new world of our love for each other. Away from the eyes of crew... away from the need for structured protocol... we consummated the simmering passions buried inside each of us.
Voyager indeed did find a cure for our illness and came back for us. But we now were faced with a fateful dilemma - how were we to handle our overt love for each other and yet remain within the confines of Starfleet's stern guidelines?
Shortly after our return from New Earth, we happened upon an anomaly reminiscent of the Badlands. The electromagnetic structure of the gaseous entity rendered Voyager's probes useless; only exploration in a shuttle could ascertain the safety of the expanse for travel by Voyager.
Because of my experience in traveling through the turbulence of the Badlands, there was no other choice as to who should make the trip: Chakotay... the warrior who could maneuver through storms of the unknown.
We each knew the dangers of the mission, yet we also knew that it was the only decision you could make. This scenario was the perfect example of the unspoken rule that captains remain separate and above their crew... why the good of the many is more important than the love of the two.
We said our private goodbyes, voicing aloud our hopes for a prudent outcome while secretly hiding our fears of the worst. Not for the first time we spoke of our love for one another, confident that love would bear us up through the tumult ahead.
And so I left Voyager, heading my shuttle into the treacherous and turbulent expanse. Initially, all proceeded well; I was able to ride the waves and download valuable information about the fluxes of energy, discovering ways we could cut time off our journey with only minimal discomfort to the ship and crew.
But then it happened. In my zealousness to capture and contain some of the energies for transport for use by our engines, my shields overloaded, causing a massive hull breach and setting up a seemingly fatal situation. Fortunately, I was still within transporter range of Voyager; they saw my difficulty and transported me out of the shuttle just before it disintegrated - but the accident was not without consequences.
The next thing I knew, I felt your warm touch... saw your sweet face - either you had followed me into the afterlife... or I had survived.
I remember apologizing for the loss of the shuttle... attempted to tell you of my foolish decision to harvest the energy. But you took away that concern and guilt; your eyes told me that all that was important was that I was alive.
With a kiss, you promised to be with me while the doctor attended to my injuries. Little did you know that the touch of your hand did more for my healing than any of the doctor's miraculous procedures!
When I awoke from a therapeutic sleep, you were still with me. A broad smile spread across my face, seeing that the good doctor (or was it you?) had dressed me in a new uniform, signaling that I was ready for duty by your side again. The smile became broader when you asked why I awoke so happy: it was because all during the induced sleep cure, I dreamt of you... but you weren't in uniform...
Ah no! You were the Kathryn of my dreams... the Kathryn of our secret world... the Kathryn I wanted in my arms and life forever.
PICTURE PERFECT continues...