Think on Your Sins
A/N: First posted in January 2015.
Original A/N: This was written for the VAMB Secret Santa challenge for CrikSeasons, who asked for a "scene between Chakotay and Paris that takes place either during or after the events of 'One Small Step'."
As always, thank you to MissyHissy3 for the beta read.
He was alone in Sickbay. The Doctor, having administered the treatments necessary for his recovery, had declared there were other tasks that needed his attention and had bustled away accordingly. Chakotay stared at the ceiling, his eyes tracing the faint lines that marked the joins between the hull plating, his mind light years away. He imagined the graviton ellipse hurtling through subspace, a fiery bubble containing a multitude of histories that would remain forever unknown. He imagined sitting in the antiquated cockpit of the Ares IV, staring through the toughened windows at the roiling waves of energy outside and counting the pieces of debris that spun around him. His own life would dwindle, slowly, bit by bit joining the silence of the lost pasts around him, until, should any future explorer locate his remains, it would be impossible to distinguish him from the debris itself. By then, Chakotay thought, it would even be impossible to tell that his presence in that tiny soda can spacecraft was an anachronism, just as the remains of Lt John Kelly had now themselves become, clad as they were inside a 24th century casing as they continued their endless journey through the void, so many thousands of light years from the place of their origin.
Chakotay had listened to the ceremony from where he lay. He'd contemplated requesting that it be postponed until he was well enough to attend in person, but had thought better of it. It was unlikely that the Captain would consider his wishes to be of particular importance, given the circumstances that had precipitated his injury, and anyway Kelly deserved to be laid to rest as soon as possible. Six years of crossing the cosmos was, he knew, time enough to be adrift: three centuries was unquestionably too long for anyone, alive or dead.
The door to Sickbay slid open with a familiar hiss to admit Tom Paris, holding a PADD. He glanced around the room before heading for Chakotay's biobed. The first officer continued to stare at the ceiling. He had no wish to talk to Paris. He had no wish to talk to anyone, although it seemed the younger man was not inclined to take a hint.
Paris stopped beside the bed. "How's the head?"
Chakotay flicked his gaze sideways; the smallest acknowledgement that Tom was there. He owed an apology, but didn't feel like giving one. Not this time. "I'll live."
Paris nodded. "Sorry you missed the ceremony."
Chakotay said nothing.
"Look," Tom said, into the silence. "I just came to say… I know that this one has been tough for you."
That surprised him. Chakotay looked at Paris properly for the first time. He was older, he realised. No, not just older. They were all that, after all. This was something else. Responsible, Chakotay realised, that was it. When did Tom Paris become the responsible one? It was funny, he mused briefly, that way out here on the edge of nowhere, in a place where they should all have floundered in the current, some of them had finally learned how to swim.
Some.
Not others.
"Seven thinks that if she and I hadn't been there with you… that you might not have fought to get back to Voyager at all," Tom added.
Chakotay was surprised for a second time.
"Something about there being a lifetime of study in the anomaly, you fulfilling a childhood dream, and you also not feeling yourself to be – how did she put it? – 'an essential component of Voyager's collective'?"
With difficulty, Chakotay levered himself up, swinging his legs over the side of the biobed. "Tom, thanks for the visit, but-"
"It's easy to get lost out here," the younger man said, as if Chakotay hadn't spoken. "Isn't it? You feel as if you're floating along, with no control, no direction. And even though we're all supposed to be headed for the same place, there's no real destination. Is there? It's just this… pretence. As if here and now doesn't matter, because it's just a passage between before and after and we're just waiting to get to the end. Except that the pause just keeps getting longer and longer. And how do you live a life in a pause – right?"
Chakotay stayed silent.
"I've been there," said Tom. "I think I was there for the first couple of years, actually. Whereas you – you had a place, right from the start. You had a purpose. The Captain needed you. The Maquis needed you. You smoothed the rough edges. You made us fit together, and Kahless knows that was tough in those early days. You were busy. And now…"
Chakotay laughed, though there was no humour in it. "Now…"
"Now we fit," Tom finished. "And you think you don't."
"Oh, I fit just fine," Chakotay said, and his tone was not devoid of bitterness. "My rough edges are all perfectly smooth. I'm a cog that is oiled well enough to never stick."
There was a brief pause.
"This ship would fall apart without you, Chakotay," said Paris. "Can you imagine Tuvok as first officer? The crew would be on the verge of mutiny within days. Trust me, I remember what happened the last time. I have no desire to go back there again."
Chakotay clasped one hand in the other. "Well, you might have to," he said. "The Captain has yet to speak to me."
"You'll get a smack on the wrist, that's all. If that."
The first officer looked pointedly at Tom's one remaining pip. "I wouldn't be so sure about that, Ensign."
The younger man shook his head. "Come on. She'd have been over there herself if it hadn't meant depriving the two of us of the chance. She'll get it."
Chakotay rotated his shoulders. "Well. We'll see."
"I guess we will. In the mean time… take a look at this." Tom tapped the PADD he'd been holding and then held it out.
Chakotay took it. On the screen was an image – Kelly and a beautiful woman that, from their embrace, he took to be the astronaut's wife. "Where did you get this?"
"Seven brought it back. She put the original in the casket with Kelly, but she scanned it first. She's wondering whether we can trace their descendants, or at least a partial family tree, so that when we reach Earth we can tell them about how we found him and show them this picture."
Chakotay glanced up, amused and also a little touched. "Really? That was Seven's idea?"
Tom smiled. "She's been more affected by this experience than she expected. So, what do you think? We should be able to get at least a start via Voyager's historical database, right?"
Chakotay nodded, staring at the photograph. "Could be worth a try. It'll take some digging, though."
"All right. I've told Seven we should wait until you're well enough to help. So let us know when the Doc discharges you. The three of us can get together over dinner in the mess hall, talk about how best to proceed."
The Sickbay doors swished open again, this time admitting Captain Janeway in full stride. She paused inside the doors, her cool gaze sweeping over both of them.
"Tom," Janeway said. Her hands had found their way to her hips. "Give us the room, would you?"
Chakotay got slowly to his feet. His head was spinning but he was determined to stand. He shared a look with Tom as he returned the PADD. "Tell Seven I'll be glad to help."
Tom smiled briefly. "Ma'am," he said, quietly, as he passed the Captain.
The door hushed shut behind him, leaving them alone.
[END]