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[14 Jan 2006|10:21pm] |
Write a letter to anyone about anything. Say what you have always wanted to say but have been afraid to...
My dearest, dreaming Kathryn,
You might not like what I have to say, but hear me out.
By the time you read this (if you get a chance to read this), you'll be home, in the arms of family and friends, feeling slightly... dead inside. Don't sigh and roll your eyes. I know you too well. Don't feel dead inside. For the love of everything in this universe, don't let yourself get depressed. In a weird way, I'm still living, just not in the original timeline (thank god!).
If Seven goes with Chakotay, don't immerse yourself in work. Get away from work. Work things out in your head! Go home, sit with Mom, paint, write. Do something. Go to our willow tree and scream if you have to. Cry. Fall apart in the back yard. Don't cover up your emotions to make everything look all right to the outside world. Let yourself be Kathryn. You're home, and Kathryn Marie Janeway, not The Captain! Kathryn can mourn the loss of her love (whichever one you pick), Kathryn can let her emotions run free.
Be happy Kathryn. Don't turn into me. I went back to save you from all that I've become.
Love Warm regards
Love, Kathryn the Elder.
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[26 Dec 2005|11:17pm] |
You've had a disturbing dream. Describe it.
Kathryn shivered. Dreams weren't something she liked talking about. I don't want to be psycho-analysed. I don't want to know the symbols. This was just a dream.
The same one.
Over and over.
... I'm in their arms. We're on Voyager, safe in my quarters. We've just married. A beautiful ceremony. Everyone looked beautiful. And now we're dozing, staring into each others eyes when suddenly... My father appears. Not my real father. He died years ago. Drowned. Frozen. Icy death for the warmest man. He's not Daddy. He's the monster... the one who tried to kill me years ago, the one surrounded in hell's fire, trying to be some angel to save me from myself. And he's not here for me...
He's here for you. He rips you away from me, dragging you by your arms, both of crying as he laughs manically. He halves me. He halves my heart and takes both pieces with him.
Then I'm in front of the board of inquiry, staring at four Kathryn Janeways, identical yet different at the same time. They're all me, yet they're not. The one who talks the fastest, always shouting, always screaming, wanting attention... Has red ribbons in her hair. My ribbons. Next it's The Captain, practically perfect in every way(!) She's pristine in her uniform, her hair a mass of coils in that bun we used to wear. Her sister, the Admiral, sits with a poker up her ass, back as straight as a brick wall, eyes unforgiving as stone. And lastly, so quiet... It's me.
Kathryn.
Not the rank, or the child screaming, but a woman who needs to be loved. She always takes the back seat. The other three walk all over her.
"You let Daddy die."
I didn't...
"You let Justin die."
But that...
"You let them marry! Why did you let them marry? Why aren't you answering me? Why won't you look at me? Hello!? Am I invisible! Listen to me!"
"You killed Seven."
"LISTEN TO ME!"
I look to Kathryn, but she doesn't look back. She gets more transparent, until I can only see a faint image of her, like those old Earth images from the eighteen hundreds.
"IHATEYOUIHATEYOUIHATEYOUIHATEYOUIHATEYOUIHATEYOU!" That same phrase over and over again from the ribbon bound Kathryn, then a scream. So cold.
You screamed like that.
You yelled like that.
I wake, and I can't sleep any longer. I'm sweating. I'm scared. And I can only think of you. Your arms, and how I can never be in them again. And that pains me more than the dream... Your scream.
I don't like dreams... Not like that. Not those dreams. I want the puppy dreams of young love and cheese sandwiches shared on sunny afternoons. I want them. I want happy dreams. I want you, but you scream and I can't have you and this can't be real.
...
I want Bramble.
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[05 Dec 2005|12:45am] |
You've just had an epiphany--what is it?
I can feel.
Yes, I know that it needs a bit more explination. I can feel more than just regret. I can feel compassion, anger... Love. I thought my heart had turned to stone.
I cover it up well, my ice cold heart, but it's thawing.
Falling head over heels does that to you. Your insteps melt away.
However, I can't be with the person I love. They're stuck in the past... literally. Or I'm stuck in the future.
But an epiphany like that demands a note in the log.
-- KJ
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| Heart's Desire |
[01 Dec 2005|10:38am] |
My heart's desire...
Seven.
Or Chakotay.
Both maybe. Here with me. They saw me as Kathryn, or would at least see through the bull I spouted.
I want them.
-- KJ
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[30 Nov 2005|02:54pm] |
( OOC: )
Events have neccesitated that you impersonate someone else, or behave as someone you're not. What happened?
I've never had the urge to be special. I have always wanted respect, and I hate being under the thumb. So being in love, completely head over heels, powerless to draw my eyes away from... obsessive... It makes me feel as if I'm someone else. I love being in love, but I hate being the powerless one.
Yet sometimes, she'd make me powerless. Her cool voice cutting through my grand plans, her steel blue eyes electric as they watched him. I wanted to be a school girl again, for her to notice me. I'd have done anything. I'd have worn a swimsuit on the Bridge just for her attention.
I don't like things out of my control, so to behave in that manner... scared me.
-- KJ
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| You were captured by the enemy! What happened? |
[04 Nov 2005|12:47am] |
The Fen Domar.
Don't sound too bad, do they, once you get used to the extra set of eyes? We thought we were going to have a nice voyage through their part of space (a nice anniversary time for Them). We were given the chance to restock food on many of their planets, repaired Voyager after we arrived in their space (we had a run in with the Borg, the fifth time that year).
It took us five months to cross their space, one month without any battles. The other four were... chaotic. I lost five people in those four months. Four dead, one better off dead.
I was captured, tortured for information. Seven was with me. It was supposed to be an away mission where we would finally mend the broken bridges between us.
From what the Doctor told me, she had massive internal bleeding that couldn't be repaired, and she died, on a bio bed, in Chakotay's arms. And a piece of Chakotay died too.
A piece of me died.
We were never the same after the Fen Domar. We both lost the ability to love, and that's worse than being captured, assimilated or being second to a woman half your age.
-- KJ
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[29 Sep 2005|09:27am] |
You've discovered a secret! What is it? (Shhh, we won't tell.) Tell us all!
I was sent a message a few days ago, from a young woman called Taya. Yes, Taya, the feminine form of Chakotay. She said she was Chakotay's grandniece and she wished to talk to me about her great-uncle.
She came. She had his eyes, which was strange as Chakotay wasn't that closely related to her. But that's whose eyes I saw. She was taller then me, but only slightly, with hair as black as the night sky on a stormy winter night.
It seems that Chakotay left me a few things. Taya gave me his medicine bundle, which, from what I understood, was what was given to the spouse or a parent after the person died. She also had two PADDs. I've yet to read the second one, but the first told me I had his house in Arizona. "If you ever need a place to be Kathryn, go there."
...
I found out Chakotay had a grand niece, and that he had added to his medicine bundle. It was strange, but I felt connected... I'm not making much sense. I best read the second PADD.
-- KJ
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[19 Sep 2005|09:36pm] |
You've just been embarrassed! What happened?
My first week of working behind a desk in Starfleet... I was doing my daily exercises (which consisted mostly of stretches and very gentle yoga). Imagine it, the fantastic Kathryn Janeway, on one leg, arms outstretched like the old aeroplanes from the twentieth century.
"It's called an arabesque Ensign," I told the young man who came through my door. He didn't know where too look.
...
Well, I am the only admiral who'll do stretches in her office in a tank top and a pair of shorts. I think I took my Ready Room for granted!
-- KJ
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[11 Sep 2005|01:36pm] |
You've just jumped from the proverbial frying pan into the fire! What's happening?
Excuse my usage of the past tense, because this was a fire I should have leapt into many years ago.
She sat and contemplated the sentence. She wasn't sure how to put her emotions into words.
Which fire should I tell you about? The battle with the Fen Domar? My latest "date" with Her Majesty (the Borg Queen)? My arguments with Him after Seven died? She blinked back tears.
That was the worst fire, like the last circle of Dante's Inferno. All our anguish would come out, yet we'd still be private about everything. All those times we'd start off talking about work (never anything personal, conversations like that stopped the moment He married her) and they'd escalate. We'd be arguing over everything that had happened to us, up until the hub, then he'd back down. He'd say, in that soft voice of his, "You're right, Captain," (never Kathryn) "that does sound like a better plan."
I should have told him that I was mourning too, that I missed Seven like I would miss my right arm. I loved her too, not in the same way he loved her (did he love her? I never asked, not even when he came to tell me he was going to marry her), but I still felt close to her, even when she turned her back to me.
I should have told Him I loved Him, even when He turned from me.
That's what I tell Him every time I visit His grave. I tell Him that I love Him more than I should, and that I should have told Him this before He died, hell, before He went to Seven's arms.
Kathryn stared at the screen. That was something she had wanted to say for a long time. What He saw in Seven, I'll never know.
-- KJ
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| You've just met someone extraordinary! Who is it...and why? |
[04 Sep 2005|11:55pm] |
* Kathryn stares dumbfounded at the screen * Extraordinary? As in someone who's shocked me or something? I've not met anyone like that. It's been a while since I have met anyone like that. Not been shocked by anyone, not had my breath taken away by the sight of a person I liked. Nothing. The cadets in the Academy are exceptional, but extraordinary? No. Not yet.
To be honest, I don't really want to meet anyone extraordinary. See, why does anyone have to be extraordinary? I've seen to much to want extraordinary. I want normal. Ordinary.
I did meet someone extraordinary once, but he died. Maybe we weren't meant to be.
-- KJ
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[04 Sep 2005|10:51am] |
I haven't much time to introduce myself, I have a class to teach in twenty minutes. Borg. I have to give a lecture about the Borg. * Rolls eyes * I've spent the last twenty years trying to get away from them and now I have to teach cadets about them. Spirits, give me strength.
However, an introduction is needed (so then if anyone does want to talk to me, why though, I don't know, as my younger version is here and much more... *positive* about her outlook). I am Kathryn Janeway, admiral, teacher, and (thankful) not too sought after since the incident. I'm the version of ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) kathryn_janeway that spent most of her middle age and what would be retirement years, aboard Voyager. My favourite ship almost became my prison by the end. Now her wings have been clipped and anyone can walk her decks, can point to places of importance and say, "Well, gosh mom, that's where Janeway sat for three days straight after their wedding." It would always be "their". No-one dares to say it. I will.
Chakotay and Seven.
They married. After he said he'd stay by my side, that he'd make my burdens lighter, he made them double just by dating her. And I couldn't stop them. I couldn't tell Chakotay that I still loved him.
Then the incident at the grave. I went to the funeral, as did my other senior officers, and about half the reporters from the Federation turned up. I told them in no uncertain terms that if they came within a kilometer of Chakotay's grave, I'd break their holoimagers and anything else. The articles next day? "Wounded Lover Spurns Reporter", "Admiral Protects Ex-Lover To the Death" and (my personal favourite) "No Happiness for Miss Havisham".
That's what I am now to them, not some saviour, but that dreaded woman from Great Expectations.
... Damn them all to hell.
-- KJ
( OOC )
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