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Originally written December 2002. Revised October/November 2003.
Author's Note: With "revised" I mean that I have changed pretty
much all the dialogue, added 533 words, and then tampered with
pretty much everything else, too. It's practically a new story.
Codes J,C J/C
by Voy_Girl
Kathryn Janeway studied her visage in the bathroom mirror, deciding that it was a little
pale.
She had a faint, blue shimmer beneath her eyes, which revealed how few hours she
had spent
sleeping that night.
She turned away from the mirror, intent on resisting the almost overwhelming urge to put
on
some make-up, to show the ship how she deserved to look that morning; content.
Though, since every single one of her crewmembers would notice, stare, and perhaps even ask
why, she didn’t smarten herself up that morning either.
Taking her hairbrush from its shelf, she began to comb through her long hair until it was
shiny
and a little curled. The hair almost reached her shoulders, so she made yet
another
mental note to cut it, knowing all too well that she’d only shove it down to
the
confinements of her subconscious, where it eventually would be forgotten.
She put the brush back on the shelf next to the mirror, sighing a little. There was still time
left
before she was needed on the Bridge, so she allowed herself to think back to the night
before,
for what seemed like the thousandth time. When she looked into the mirror again,
the
cheeks were coated with a flushed red, though Kathryn preferred to be pale and
collected
rather than rosy and goofy.
She was surprised that one single evening spent in a stifling cellar, with nothing but a
sandbag,
a few benches and a boxing ring, could send her into such a strange state.
Perhaps it was because Chakotay had been one of the fighters. Perhaps it was because he
had invited her specially to watch him practise. Perhaps it was because she, during all the
rounds,
had fantasized about Chakotay fighting for her honor.
A few minutes later, while Kathryn zipped her uniform jacket, she glanced adoringly at the
tap, thinking about the cold water it could produce. But, she realized she had no time left
to
rinse the goofy smile, which had reappeared again, off her face.
She would simply have to take herself back down to the floor, single-handedly.
The only efficient goal she had in mind that morning managed to stay surfaced in her mind
all
the way between her quarters and the mess hall, as it always did during early,
moderately
unstressful mornings. She knew that the first, fresh pot of coffee waited for
her
on the counter.
”Are you really this desperate to get yourself a living opponent, so you finally can replace
those holograms?” Kathryn teased while she pulled on a heavy glove. When she was done,
she
let out her breath and rested the gloves against her thighs, which were properly clad in
shorts.
”Who knows how this will turn out? Right now, I just want you to give this a try. That
lyric
expression you had after watching me training last night can only spring from an
interest in
the sport.”
‘Not really’, she though. ‘Rather from an interest in daydreaming’. But she did not say
anything; didn’t want to spoil Chakotay’s childish happiness over the chance to find a worthy
opponent in his Captain.
”Come here,” Chakotay instructed, while he walked up to a large sandbag a few meters left
of
the boxing ring itself. He grabbed it with both his gloved hands. ”Give this a taste of
that
famous right hook!”
”’Famous right hook’?”
”Um, it’s a private joke that’s circulating among the crew.”
”Tell me.”
”I would if I’d ever heard the whole thing. I do know that it’s about a lieutenant Janeway and a
medical sophomore.”
She shrugged a little. ”They must have mixed me up with someone else.”
”I thought so, too. Now, hit this!” He let go of the bag, taking a little step back.
Kathryn eyed the large, brownish sack hanging from the ceiling of the gloomy room, modified
for the noble boxing. She squinted, summoned strength, and hit. The sack did not move a
millimeter. Another punch. Not a half millimeter.
Chakotay tried to cover his smile with one of his gloves. ”Let me show you.” He stepped up,
and gave the unsuspecting sack a series of hard punches. Kathryn studied the technique; she
was actually beginning to develop some sort of interest.
”Think of this lifeless sack as a Cardassian, Hirogen, Kazon!” Chakotay advised, and stepped
back a few feet, thus giving her a little space together with the sandbag.
She focused on the leather. Suddenly, it transformed in front of her eyes; shimmered with
various faces of old ”friends” and acquaintances. This time, when she hit, the sack moved,
and
when it did, the faces disappeared.
Kathryn gritted her teeth, waiting for the sudden pain in her fist to subside. ”There isn’t
much
finesse in hitting a hard sack filled with sand,” she complained, moaning a little, as
the ache
made its way up to her elbow.
”That was a pure hit, Kathryn!” He hesitated for a moment, ”Would you like to go a
round
against me? Skip the holo-characters in the middle, so to say?”
Chakotay made a good offer, though the polite smile could not quite hide his self-secure
smirk.
He seemed pretty convinced that she wouldn’t be able to hurt him. After all,
though she was
slim and not alien to working out; he was the boxing star on the ship.
”It’s your own fault if I’d knock you out cold,” Kathryn warned politely, following him
into
the small boxing ring. Things did not start out good; she got a foot caught in the
rope, and
nearly fell face down onto the mattress.
When Chakotay not even glanced at his folded jacket, which he’d placed on a bench near
by,
and the rubber he used to protect his teeth lying on top of it, she did not remind him.
Every time she tried to hit, Chakotay either moved away, ducked or sparred. There were
several times when Kathryn nearly tripped over her own feet. She began to feel tired,
sweaty, annoyed and humiliated. Overall, she felt clumsy; and she could not stand
that
feeling.
‘Trying to hit an old professional’, she reproached herself, snorting at her own self-trust
and
naivety.
Chakotay grinned politely at her, then glanced at the old-fashioned clock placed on the far
wall
behind her.
‘If he sighs, nothing can stop me form nailing him!’ Kathryn thought, the powerless anger
growing fruitlessly inside of her. She looked down, and focused on moving her feet, until
she
was certain that the red which had threatened to flood her cheeks had faded.
He hadn’t even let a glove brush against her, and that fact made her even more frustrated.
Though, when she looked up from her shoes again, Chakotay was no longer himself; instead,
there was that Cardassian’s face teasing her again! Brow knitted, her ‘famous right
hook’
raised, she struck.
The feeling of something else than air meeting her fist, combined with a surprised and
frightened whimper which definitely belonged to Chakotay, was what brought her back,
and
allowed her to see straight again.
There was no Cardassian in the ring, nor had it ever been, just Chakotay; and he was lying
in
his full length, sprawled out on the thick mattress.
Kathryn kneeled next to him. ”Chakotay?” she tried softly. No response. She shook her head
at
his appearance, pulled her gloves off and stroked his left cheek, which she’d hit,
carefully.
‘I guess I can convince my personal log that Chakotay finally has fallen for me,’ she
thought,
impudently amused, as she touched her ever-present comm badge to hail the
Doctor.
The End
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