Title: Kes is Dead (Part 1)
Series: Star Trek: Voyager
Author: Singing Violin
Rating: K
Spoilers: Endgame.
Disclaimer: TPTB own them, but they didn't do what I wanted with them, so I'm borrowing them for a bit. I'll give them back when I'm done.
Feedback: Yes please.
Archiving: Anywhere.

Tuvok awoke with a start. He could feel his wife beside him, in body and in their mental bond. That bond was the aorta of a vast network of mental connections, the residual traces of all the mind melds he had ever experienced. Every person he had melded with was present, a tenuous thread connected to his Katra. Because of the eternal nature of that Katra, even after death, the strands connected to Vulcans remained. You shall not die as long as someone remembers you. He could feel his parents, and Admiral Janeway, his children, and, most of all, his wife.

But this night, one of the threads was missing.

Searching his mind, the Vulcan drew the only logical conclusion, rose from his bed quietly so as not to wake T'Pel, and made the subspace call.

The face of his closest human friend appeared on the screen. She smiled at him, and he noted, with concern, that the last two years had not been kind to her. Crinkles were evident at the corners of her eyes, and a few of the hairs growing from her forehead shined silver-grey, contrasting with the auburn of the rest. Circles under her eyes indicated a lack of adequate sleep, and her face was gaunt, suggesting that she had lost considerable weight since their return. He regretted not having visited her, but he had missed too much time with his family, and his life was on Vulcan now.

"Tuvok, what a nice surprise!" Janeway exclaimed, reminding the former officer that they had not spoken in nearly a year. There was no logical reason to communicate, and so they hadn't. There was an unspoken understanding that, should anything be amiss, each would contact the other, and so, with the lack of correspondence, each had assumed that the other was well. In Janeway's case, the assumption had been correct. However, the Vulcan had clearly been mistaken.

For a moment, he considered whether he should keep this news from the wearied admiral, but he knew that she would want to know as soon as possible. "Admiral," Tuvok stated plainly, "Kes is dead."

For a moment, she did not speak, stunned by the news and its messenger. "How do you know?" she whispered, dreading the reply.

He raised an eyebrow, monitoring her reaction. "I was linked with her many times on Voyager, and we shared a particularly deep meld to help her control herself the day she left. The Vulcan mind meld leaves a trace that is never fully erased, unless the person on the other side is deceased." He neglected to mention that this wasn't quite true when that person was of his own species. Vulcan mysticism had no place in this conversation.

The human woman sat back, contemplating the news. Her voice hitched when she finally acknowledged it. "Thank you, Tuvok, for telling me." Her whole posture fell, dejectedly, and then she shifted, overcome with a thought. "I suppose we should have some sort of memorial service. If nothing else, it's an excuse for a reunion."

Vulcans were not prone to whim, but, illogically, Tuvok felt a need to be with his former captain. "If you wish, I can be on Earth in approximately forty-two hours," he offered. "I can assist with the preparations."

She smiled at him, clearly tempted by the offer, but two days was too much time. "Thank you, Tuvok, but that won't be necessary," she replied. "I'll contact you when I know when the service will be. I'll see you then."

He nodded his assent, and contemplated asking her about her current situation, but decided that discretion was the best course here. If and when she desired his assistance, he trusted her to request it. He disconnected the comm link and returned to bed, but he could not sleep.

As she processed the news, Kathryn Janeway felt her eyes sting and a lump form in her throat. She had never really contemplated the true tragedy of Kes's short lifespan, and, perhaps, she had always hoped that Kes would defy her genetics and reach a much more acceptable age. The Ocampan's frailty when she had briefly returned, angry and hurt and ready to destroy her one-time friends, should have ruled out this notion, but still the woman, to whom Kes was the closest thing she'd ever had to a daughter, had held out hope.

Nine short years. Hardly time to get to know the world around you. And Kes had no offspring, no family to mourn her passing. Janeway supposed that she had returned to Ocampa, but those people, while they were her people, were not her family, and among them, the life span was normal. They would be neither surprised nor aggrieved by her death. The admiral sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her forefinger, tears finally escaping her eyes and coursing down her cheeks.

She had wept for the loss of Kes twice before, but this was different. Kes was dead. Gone forever. Admiral Janeway had accepted the fact that Kes was far away and she would never speak with her again, but it still seemed a temporary separation, friends distant in space who could and would reunite at some point in the future. Tuvok would tell her she was being illogical.

That brought her thoughts back to the Vulcan who had delivered the news. Was Tuvok her closest friend remaining? She wondered. He had clearly wanted to comfort her, but he'd respected her privacy. It occurred to her that she had melded with him as well, and she shuddered, wondering if he would know when she passed, and would inform someone as coldly when it happened. But whom would he tell of her death? He was the one who would care the most.

She'd often felt isolated on Voyager, but, ironically, here on Earth was where she felt most alone. Her Voyager family had dispersed, and she wasn't one to impose. She saw Tom and B'Elanna occasionally, mostly when they needed a babysitter. Tuvok was on Vulcan with his family, and although she wanted to speak with him more frequently, she could never seem to think of a good enough reason to call. Many of the others were on distant planets with their families, or assigned to starships scattered about the quadrant. Her mother and sister were around, as were Mark and his wife, but she felt only obligation to keep in touch with them. There was no companionship.

She had colleagues now, but they were just coworkers. They didn't sleep, eat, breathe, and battle enemies together in close quarters. In fact, she almost never saw them outside of work. A desk job was nothing like starship life. While there were social outings, she often refused to go. It just didn't feel right. She missed her family. Her Voyager family.

She missed him. She hadn't kept in contact with her former first officer because she didn't want to interfere in his life with Seven. She hadn't kept in contact with Seven either, for the same reason. At least, that was the excuse. In truth, it had hurt her more than she could possibly imagine when they had become a couple. They seemed so happy, so in love, and she wanted desperately to support them, but every time she saw them together, she just wanted to cry. So she avoided them altogether, and put them out of her mind.

She supposed she should contact him first, as he had been her first officer, and would be the logical choice to help with the preparations. The command team, she thought bitterly, back together for one last hurrah.

It occurred to her that she didn't even know his number. He might not even be close enough to come in time for the memorial service, let alone help with the preparations, though if he were still with Seven, she would want to be near Earth, where her only family resided. Taking a chance, she searched the Federation database, and found him easily.

She drew in a deep, calming breath, willing her emotions under control, and then she made the call.