Title: Rain
Author: Juliet Norrington
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Meh. Paramount
owns 'em, I'm just playing
with 'em…
Summery: A lament for Chakotay. Companion to "Coffee"
A/N: J/C version of my HP story "The Ocean".
Kathryn's PoV
o.o
Rain.
He smelled of rain. Many nights I would lay on his chest,
matching heartbeats and breathing in the scent of rain that always lingered on
him. Oh, he was magical. My lips used to kiss his dark, tan skin. My lips were
always so bright against his sunlike skin.
I will remember always his touch, the soft, sensual fingers
that he used to run up and down my sides, making my laugh and moan under his
touch. I remember when he used to touch me daily, his long smooth fingers
tracing patterns down my spine, across my stomach and over my face. I thought
those days would never end, that all my life I would be running, and dancing,
and living with him always at my side and in my heart. Our summer was a summer
of touch and love making, when he would swim over to me in our lake and make
love and make love and make love…
Our winter was spent studying by the fire, curled up with a
cup of coco between us, snowball fights at the sunrise, making dinner and
having small ingredients fights, and nights spend huddled under the heavy
blankets, warming and warming each other until we could stand it no longer and
had to poke our heads out to get some cool air. Once, we lived and breathed
only for the other. We were perfect. Whole. But now,
my bronze god is gone. The night has finally ended, throwing me harshly back
into the bright daylight.
I know he must hate me, but I can't bring myself to hate
him. I love him. When I think about everything I did to him, I want to cry.
He's said he's forgiven me, but that was a long time ago, does he still feel
the same way? When I think about on that last day, he looked so happy. His
silky dark brown hair was shinning, and his eyes, oh, his eyes looked so alive…
He looked so incredibly happy, so, so incredibly happy… I was too, you know. I
thought that we would never have to be parted, and ever day I could shout to
the skies that I love Chakotay! But no more.
In the day I can push him out of my mind. In the day, I can make-believe he doesn't exist. But in the night, I cannot. My body cries for him, as do I, and my stiff bed's pillows are often soaked to the brim with salty tears that remind me of the rain.