A/N: This is my entry for Round 1 - Gamma Group of the J/C Cutthroat Fiction Competition, due September 30, 2017.
My prompt was Norah Jones' Come Away With Me. I tried to capture every nuance of this song within the story. If you are able, please listen to it before (or while) reading.
He sits alone at the end of the bar.
Dim light from a single pendant overhead shines back at him against the polished wood. It prisms in the ring of water left by his glass.
It is late, but not so late that the barkeep has advised of last call. That's still at least an hour away, he knows, and if he's lucky, he will be left alone long enough to hear it announced.
The piano comes to life slowly. Notes mix with the idle chatter of other patrons. Lean fingers move over ivory and black and back again like a dancer on a stage. It is a sorrowful tune, jazzy and rich, and it overtakes his attention. He feels as if the song is being played straight from his very soul.
The player begins to hum.
He doesn't turn to see the musician or take stock of who else is in the place. Instead, he slides his empty tumbler forward through the lost droplets and taps the rim, listens to the clinking of glasses and knives from the ballroom next door, and hangs his head.
The bartender refills his glass.
As the liquid pours, so too do the memories that he has kept locked inside for perhaps just one day too long. He recognizes now that today is the one day where he deserves to remember.
The humming glides into lyrics and a lovely voice, smooth as silk, deep and soft wafts across the bar.
"I leave in a week."
He set down his fork and knife thoughtfully next to his nearly untouched plate of dinner. Then he dabbed at his mouth with the napkin and finally raised his eyes to hers.
The swell of emotion expanding upward from his chest was hard to bite back, but he tried. God, he tried. "You're really going back out there?" he finally managed.
"I don't see how I have much of a choice, Chakotay," came her reply. She nibbled at her food, watching him closely. "If I don't go, who will? No one is as prepared to do this job as I am."
"Someone else. Anyone else," he said, insistence rising too quickly in his voice. "Hell, I'll go if that's what it takes. But it doesn't have to be you, not again and certainly not this soon."
"What does it matter if I go now, or in a year from now? And I don't see why you're suddenly so concerned for what I do anyway," she retorted, putting her utensils down to match his. The mood had soured and all appetite for both of them was suddenly gone.
"Kathryn. We've only been home a month. And this mission they're sending you on, it's suicide."
"Being a bit dramatic, aren't we?"
"It's at least another two years in deep space, hunting for the Borg."
"Well, it's my job. And besides, it's not as if I have a good reason to stay."
"Is that what you need? A reason?"
She pushed back from her chair, stood and began to pace behind the table. "I don't know," she admitted. "I don't know what I need. I need a purpose, I need -"
He stopped her pacing with his body, blocking her, moving in to invade her space while she wasn't paying attention.
"Stay with me," he pleaded, the phrase wrenched from him after too many years of being bottled up inside. The force of his words shocked her, silenced her, halted her breath. His hands went to her shoulders, holding her still. Pressed fingertips into the fabric of her uniform, willed her, begged for her to stay. "If you need a reason to say no, let it be me. I can show you that you're so much more than your uniform. You just have to give me a chance."
"I don't…" she began, blinking back newly formed tears. She looked down to her boots and he saw the tears splatter there. "I don't think I deserve that chance anymore. After how long I pushed you away. After everything I've put you through I thought you'd be happy to have me go."
He couldn't help but move to touch her skin. Fingers finding their way under her chin, he lifted her up gently and forward as he finally pressed his lips to hers. The kiss pulled her, drew her in and down. He held onto her again, capturing her greedily, and she met his hunger with bated breath.
If this was to be his one and only chance, then he would give her all that he had.
Colors shed, tears wiped away and dried, they stumbled backward onto his couch.
Earth had never looked so beautiful, he thought, gazing out at its bright, blue sky while wrapping her in his arms.
Her uniform had never looked so perfect as it did just then, lying next to his, in a heap on the floor.
Deep space would have to find another sucker. He had just given her a reason to stay.
A customer moves awkwardly to the adjacent stool, fumbles for something that has obviously been lost. The man absentmindedly bumps against his arm, rousing him from his daydream.
He moves protectively for the drink, its contents sloshing slightly. The movement of his hand catches cast light from the pendant. The ring on his finger, fleetingly illuminated, mixes with the mood of the music and takes him back again.
"You're sure about this?"
"It's a little late to ask me that now, isn't it?" He watched as she fussed with her hair in the mirror, straightening the pins and adjusting the beaded barrette.
"It's never too late."
She paused, met the eyes of his reflection and asked, "Are you trying to talk me into this or out of it?"
"Out of it," he said, with a sly smile.
She looked down at the simple, cream-colored dress which fell to the floor, checking that all was correct about her reflection. "Out of it? I seem to recall not that long ago you were begging me to stay."
"I learned a long time ago that talking you into things was generally a recipe for disaster. I got lucky last time, I'm not sure I want to tempt fate again."
"And you figure if you try to talk me out of this –"
"You'll try your damnedest to prove it was a good idea."
"Interesting tactic, Captain," she said, apparently confident in her appearance. She turned and stepped to him, wound her hands around the back of his neck and kicked up one leg. "But you're overlooking one minor detail."
"And what detail would that be, Admiral?"
"Well…" she said with a sly, knowing smile. Her eyes traced down the front of his tailored shirt, between their bodies, to the point where her dress broke ever-so-slightly over the protrusion of her growing belly.
"Ah, yes." He fought hard to contain his burgeoning dimples. "What will people say when they realize?"
"Since when have you ever cared what other people think?"
"True," he conceded. Then he leaned in close and whispered into her ear. "I think we're making the biggest mistake of our lives."
"I disagree," she breathed back. "And I'm going to dedicate the rest of mine to proving you wrong."
"Good," he said. Then he kissed her across her rose-colored smile, messing up her lipstick just enough that she'd have to take the time to fix it. In one fluid movement, he spun her off of him and onto her heels. "I'm leaving now," he announced. "I'm not supposed to be here in the first place and you're not going to make me late to my own wedding."
The bumbling patron makes apologies for knocking into him yet again and has enough wherewithal to know when he's not welcome. In his retreat, the guest finds his way to the piano where he leans a while then requests a song.
A happier tune begins to play. Nothing too jovial, and he's grateful. Upbeat is out of place here. The festivities are best kept to the other room, where he knows he should be returning soon. Still, he's nowhere near done remembering and so, he lets the music waft through his senses again.
The melody reminds him of dancing.
"She's a natural," he said, eyeing back to his wife as she watched from her chair in the corner. He was humming softly, moving lightly with his precious bundle.
"Support her head," she warned, reminding him of a mother bear.
He adjusted the infant and began swaying about the room on the balls of his feet once again. "There, there," he said while the child's protests slowly waned. "Shhhhh…" he hushed close into her ear. "Papa's got you."
"As I was saying…" she said, continuing the conversation he had so adeptly tried to distract her from. "I don't appreciate being asked to choose, yet again, between you and my duties." He perceived the harshness in her voice despite obvious attempts to impart with a modicum of diplomacy.
The infant cooed and suckled at the tip of his finger as she was carried along. He considered his words carefully, watching the baby drift off to sleep.
"I want you to realize," he said, voice hushed as he padded over to the bassinet, "that while I would never ask you to tarnish your reputation by backing out of this assignment, I seriously hope that you choose to rethink how quickly you say 'yes' next time." He laid the girl, swaddled in pink and green, down into her bed, replaced his finger with a pacifier and backed away slowly. "And you'll notice I'm saying nothing about what I think of our illustrious leadership for sending you away so soon after…well…" he motioned with his head back in the direction he just came.
While she had been doing well to temper the volatile mix of anger and hormones, he saw in that moment the spark in her eyes ignite to a blaze. Realizing he may have gone just a bit too far, he instinctively planted his feet to stand his ground. Without the baby as a shield, he knew exactly what to expect as she lit back into him.
"Our leadership has been more than patient with me and we both know it." Hands balled into fists, she continued, "And to your other point, you don't think I've agonized about this every night since she's been born? You don't think it's tearing at every bit of me knowing that I made the choice to leave you both tomorrow morning?"
And he did know just how hard this would be. Because of course she'd been there before, at the junction between staying and going. Living and serving. Loving and leading and dying.
"I don't know what to think anymore," he admitted.
"Do you know what I think about?" she said, finally calming. She moved to where he now sat on the edge of their bed. "Lying with you at night, while I'm safe there in your arms, I imagine ways that I could hang up my uniform and walk away for good. But to do that would be to deny me. I am Starfleet. I am also your wife and now I am a mother. I have to find a balance in all of that, or none of it will work."
He closed his eyes briefly, let out a sigh and said, "I don't want you to change who you are for us. I just want you to be careful. I want you to promise me that you'll come back safely."
"I will, Chakotay. I will do everything I possibly can to make sure that happens. You know I will. This is my last tour for a while, and it's short. As much as I've relished the last months with you here, there will still be times when the job takes me away. It will take you away sometimes too."
"You make it sound so easy," he said, almost instantly regretting his words.
"Walking away from you will never be easy."
"No?" he questioned, wrapping a strong arm around her waist, tugging her close. "Then show me how hard it is for you to leave."
The clinking of bussed tableware punctuates sharply against the interlude. His eyes dart and then refocus on bottles of amber liquid against walnut shelves.
The suit coat which had been so painstakingly selected for this occasion is constricting and the alcohol is slowly warming him from the inside out. He takes the flower from the lapel and the kerchief from the pocket, sets them on the bar then shrugs the garment off.
And he loses himself once again.
The walk to the tree was long and arduous for a young girl. But the wonders to be discovered on the way well made up for the effort it took to get there. And, of course, there were always papa's shoulders to ride on if it simply became too far for little feet to travel.
The fields around their new home spilled forth with life. Butterflies and bumble bees made their rounds to wildflowers at the outskirts. She would weave and dance around every one, naming them, befriending them. In the wintertime it was the cardinals that were called and followed. In the spring, the fawns and bunnies took their turns as fleeting pets.
This was their tradition. Each and every Saturday morning since moving from the city, picnic basket in hand, the three of them would trek. And they wouldn't come back until all creatures had been thoroughly examined and offered a bite to eat.
Sometimes, others would join them. She so loved when the Paris clan was planet-side. Miral, despite being only a year older, seemed so much wiser and with much better stories to tell since she spent the majority of her days on a starship.
But days with her adventurous friend were few and far between as of late. She was getting over the disappointment of goodbye on one particularly dreary weekend morning.
"It's going to rain sweetheart. Do you see the sky? How dark it's growing?" he explained. "I don't think we can go for our walk today."
"But papa," the little girl insisted with a flip of her long dark hair, "we always walk to the tree on sunny days. And in the winter, we walk to the tree on snowy days. And I want to walk with you on a cloudy day, too."
"Some days just aren't right for walking," he replied. "Some days are best spent inside."
"But then what will we do? Mommy's not coming home for hours and hours and I'm tired of playing in the house, it's boring with Miral gone."
"How about if we go on an adventure," he said, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder. "You're a big girl now, how old are you again?"
"I'll be five in a week," she replied with a slightly happier tone.
"I think that 'five in a week' is the exact right age for me to start to tell you about some of the things your mother and I did on Voyager."
"You've told me all about Voyager," she said dejectedly, hoping for something more exciting. "I know about Neelix and Naomi, about the Delta Flyer and the planet with the monkey and how sometimes there wasn't any coffee at all."
"I have more to offer than what you've already heard," he informed her.
Her hands flew up in the air suddenly. "Oh! Are you going to tell me about the time giant viruses attacked? Or when mommy had to pretend to be the Queen of the Spidery People?"
He laughed and asked, "Where did you hear those things?"
"Miral told me just the other day."
"She did, did she?" he sighed. "I'll have to talk to her father, apparently. But yes, those stories are true and you're getting old enough now to hear more of them. Grab the picnic basket, I'll get the blankets. We'll make a fort out of the couch and I'll start from the beginning."
His glass is refilled again without having to signal for it. He resigns himself to savoring this one a bit more slowly.
The pianist is late to begin again so he glances back to see why. She is waiting for two other musicians to set up beside her. They converse momentarily and in the silence he can hear muffled applause from the ballroom down the hall.
Guests are leaving, he thinks. It must be getting late.
The drummer begins a slow riff on the snare of his set, the bass plucks a low beat, and that same honey voice begins again.
"I wish Mom could be here for the party tomorrow," she said to him as he tucked her in. "I miss her."
"I know sweetheart," he replied, trying to mask the longing in his own voice. "I miss her too. We'll have a great day though. All of your friends will be coming over. We have that beautiful cake you helped me make."
She nodded, eyes growing heavy, as he pulled the covers up to her chin. "You have the sweetest of sweet dreams, ok?"
"I'll be ten," she replied in the middle of a yawn.
"Getting so big. I can hardly stand it." Then he placed a kiss on her forehead and padded softly out of the room.
The door closed behind him with a click. He was about to head for a shower when he noticed light emanating from the kitchen. He thought it strange, swearing he had already turned it off. "You're losing it, old man," he remarked to the emptiness. But as he continued on, he heard someone rustling in the cabinets. Registering this could only mean one thing, he broke into a run down the hall.
The sight of her made his heart skip a beat. "Kathryn! You made it back!" he exclaimed, taking her in his embrace against the kitchen table. She dropped her mug, spilling fresh coffee everywhere.
Smothered, she replied, "I told you I'd try my best."
"She's going to be so happy." He pulled her back and looked at her just to be sure she was really there. "God, she's going to be so excited."
"What about you?" she asked, coyly. "Aren't you happy to see me?"
"After three months, you'd better believe I am," he said with a greedy grin.
It never ceased to amaze him how just the very sight of her could make his stomach turn somersaults. He wanted nothing more than to sweep her up off of her feet and carry her to their bed. But he'd force himself to wait just a little longer. "I have something to show you," he said, taking her by the hand to lead her out the back kitchen door. They walked quickly down the darkened path, dodging raindrops, still clinging to each other.
"It's done?" she asked, amazed. In front of her stood a small, log-built building. She waited under the eave while he turned the knob. The moisture in the air served to heighten the smell of new wood and sod and stain.
"We finished it last week."
"Oh, Chakotay!" she exclaimed, entering the one-room building. "It's perfect! And just in time too, I finally told command I wanted more time at home. They're leaving me off of the long negotiations from here out."
He watched quietly as her eyes traced around the office, taking in each thoughtful detail. A large window across the back looked out into the vast nature of their property; a small sofa and comfortable chair were against the longest wall; and a beautiful oak desk sat in the corner. She moved to it instinctively, tracing her hands across the pristine surface.
"I'll be able to get so much more work done in here than I ever could squashed in the corner of our bedroom."
He cleared his throat. "I'm hoping you'll still spend time in our bedroom…"
She licked her lips, swiveled and placed her hips to lean back on the furniture. "Offices can be fun too," she said, insinuation dripping from her voice as the rain kicked up. The insistent drumming of drops reverberated through the space, adding to the pounding in his chest.
"Sorry. It gets kind of loud in here. Metal roof." He looked up to the ceiling, grateful at least that there didn't seem to be any leaks.
"I like it. I think it's sexy."
"I think you're sexy," he said, moving in close to tug off her uniform jacket. He could feel the heat radiating off of his own body, being absorbed by her. "Want to try out your new desk, Admiral?" he murmured, nipping at her earlobe, then kissing lower still to the sweetest spots of her neck.
Her fingers wound their way through his hair, down his jaw, over his strong shoulders.
"I thought you'd never ask."
The crowd in the bar begins to grow as the event next door releases guests into the hotel lobby. He resists the temptation to glance back. It is a wise move on his part, because a few of his old comrades appear as though they may want to offer words to him. But he doesn't look up and they don't come over.
The stool next to him remains mercifully empty. The musicians play a little louder to cover the commotion while new patrons find their seats.
He's getting into the thick of his daydreams now and wants only to remain undisturbed just a while longer. Swiveling slightly presents his back to the tables and he hopes that posturing this way sends a message.
What moment should be next? he wonders. There are a million more things he would recall if given the time, and he will, but not here. Here he has to skip ahead a bit, unfortunately that means moving past more treasured days.
Feet shuffling, chairs moving.
He's heard this before.
They had waded through a sea of black and red to get to the front of the commencement stage. And they found her, talking with some of the other graduates. She shot him a proud smile, then turned again and laughed with the others. There would be time to talk to her parents later, but her friends were all leaving now, headed to new assignments and different fates.
"Quite a day, wasn't it?"
Chakotay turned to face the familiar voice approaching from behind. "Captain Paris, Ensign Paris." He regarded the father and daughter with handshakes.
"Congratulations, Ensign," Kathryn said with a smile.
"Thank you Ma'am. It feels wonderful to finally be done!"
"Oh…" Kathryn shook her head. "You're only just beginning, my dear," then she took Miral by the wayside and handed her a padd as they walked.
"We're swapping daughters it seems," Tom said, eyes following Miral until she was out of sight.
"Yes. And I expect you'll take good care of my girl, Captain."
"You know I will. And you'll look after mine, won't you? Out of the two assignments, I suspect that Miral has the more dangerous one."
Chakotay laughed, "Yes, well that extra year of diplomatic training ought to come in handy. But I'll see to it that Kathryn doesn't work her new aide into exhaustion."
"B'Elanna and I would consider it a personal favor. And let me thank you again for staying at the Academy just long enough to train a few of my other new officers. I feel better knowing that they learned from the best."
"It's a good group. Demand a lot of them and you won't be disappointed." He turned to search the crowd a bit. "Speaking of B'Elanna, where is she anyway?"
"She headed straight back to the ship, we leave in less than a week. A chief engineer's work is never done."
"I can't say I miss those days," he admitted, feeling the age in his bones.
"Come on, Chakotay. Newly refurbished ship, new mission. We're going to have a lot of fun out there. Are you sure you can't be persuaded to join us?" He shook his head with a smile while Paris persisted. "I hear that the Admiral still makes her rounds on the ships from time to time…"
"She does, and I keep trying to get her to hang it up. Space is for those young and foolish enough to take the risks needed to stay alive in it. Leave it to the next generation, I say. Besides, if I go I have seniority," he reminded with a wink. "And that wouldn't be any fun for you at all."
"Papa!" And before he could turn around, familiar arms embraced him from behind.
"Hey kiddo!" he replied, pulling her off of him with a smile. "Oh, wait. Ensign now is it?" He examined her in her new uniform and shook his head. "You look so much like your mother."
"Where is the Admiral? A bunch of us are going to take a final walk around campus and I need her to give up Miral," her eyes caught sight of their target in the distance and she exclaimed, "Oh, I see her," and then she pecked her father on his cheek and off she went.
"It's going to be pretty quiet around the house…" Tom said, observing a slight wrinkle in Chakotay's brow. "What are you and the Admiral going to do to keep things exciting?"
"We're vacationing in Colorado after she gets back from negotiations on Qo'noS."
"But until then, you'll be an unemployed bachelor for a while, eh? Sounds like fun," Tom said with a sly smile and a nudge.
"It's only a week. And, he has to keep my tomatoes going strong," Kathryn interjected, coming at them from the side. "I expect they will occupy most of his time." She slid in next to her husband, and his hand found its natural place around her waist.
"I'll do what I can to stay out of trouble," he replied, kissing her hair.
Tom looked the two of them up and down then put a finger to his lips and shook his head.
"What is it?" she asked.
"It doesn't matter how many years it's been. The sight of you two together always makes me smile."
He can hear footsteps purposefully heading toward him. Light applause signals the end of the last song which has wafted in and out of his senses like a wisp of fog. Resigning himself, he looks up to see who it is. Though he was hoping not to be disturbed, he is grateful, at least, that of all of the people who might have approached him it would be this man. He's not sure he could stand to face any of the others, not just yet, and not here in this personal space he has carved for himself.
"Man of the hour," the deep, friendly voice comes from behind, and hand is placed on the back of his high-top chair. "I had a feeling I might find you here."
He sits back, sets down his drink and turns.
"Captain Riker," he says extending his hand. "And I'm hardly the man of the hour."
"Please, Chakotay," Riker replies, lifting a leg and hurdling rather gracefully into the next chair. "I've told you, call me Will. We're practically family now, you know."
He nods. "I suppose we are."
The barkeep attends to his newest customer – 'I'll have what he's having,' is the order - then retreats.
Riker eyes his comrade on the stool carefully, taking in his tired eyes, the way his forefinger sweeps mindlessly around the almost empty glass.
"It's not easy, watching children grow up, is it?" Riker asks, stroking his short-cropped beard before taking a thoughtful sip.
"No," he concurs. "It's not."
"Everything went off beautifully, I thought."
"Yes. It did."
"The bride looked stunning," Riker continues, prize-winning smile on his face. "I know my son certainly thought so."
"Quite," he replies, swirling and taking in the scent of his drink.
"And you," Riker says, patting him lightly on the shoulder. "You'd never know it was your first time giving someone away. Not a nervous twitch in you. I'm glad I didn't have to walk down that aisle, no sir. Once was enough for me."
"I wasn't sure I'd ever get the chance. Of course, considering the circumstances…" His thought trails off into the awkward space between breaths.
Riker leans forward with a heavy sigh, raises his glass slightly, and then takes a long, slow sip.
The drummer sets his wire brush to work on the snare. The talking stops. And he forgets that he has company now.
"Mom, Dad. This is James. James, this is my mother, Admiral Janeway. And my father, Captain Chakotay."
"Pleased to meet you," Kathryn said, shaking the hand of the tall and strikingly handsome young man who presented in a blue uniform.
"Yes, very nice to finally put a face to the name we've been hearing so much about," Chakotay added.
"The honor is all mine sirs," he replied, then he nervously shuffled his feet a moment before returning to attention. "I mean, ma'am and sir."
The kid looks scared, Chakotay thought. He remembered hearing stories of how Kathryn had been mortified the first time she brought Justin home to meet her own father. He'd never understood why someone would choose to make another person ill at ease. But at this moment he felt in touch with the father-in-law he had never met. All suitors courting daughters should be made uncomfortable.
"Please, James. Let's forgo the formalities, shall we? You're dating our daughter, not reporting for duty," Kathryn allowed.
"Oh, yes. Yes of course ma'am… I mean –"
"Kathryn," Chakotay said, saving the ensign from his misery. "Call her Kathryn. Call me Chakotay. And tell us more about yourself, please. Our daughter hasn't been the most forthcoming with details."
The officer found his feet and allowed himself to be led into the living room.
"Um, well," James began, taking the seat he had been shown to. "We're on the same ship. And in the same department… Which, um, you knew already."
"Yes, we gathered that part," Chakotay replied with a quick shake of the head. "Fraternization, huh?" he continued with a 'tsk tsk' sound, "And on your first assignments? I'll have to speak with Captain Paris and see just what he's got going onboard that ship of his," he said, casting a glare toward his daughter who not-so-innocently had her hand on James's leg.
"Oh, stop it," Kathryn chided, slapping him on the shoulder. "It's not as if they're being held to the stricture we were."
The young woman ran an annoyed hand through her long black hair and cleared her throat. "As I was trying to say, James is a botanist. He's brilliant at making things grow, but he's lived most of his life on a ship and never seen a few of the species our garden has to offer. I thought I might show him around back a bit."
"That sounds like a fine idea," Kathryn said.
"Yes," Chakotay agreed, eyeing up the almost quivering lad one last time. "He looks like he could use the air."
"Come on James," she said, taking him by the hand with a huff and a glare to her father. "Wait till I show you this incredible old tree…"
"If I'd known there was jazz going on in here I would have saved some chops," Riker informs through the applause. He pinches his upper lip between his thumb and forefinger, testing his ability to play again. "That reception band wore me out." He says the words, but his smile suggests he'll be going back for his trombone in a few minutes regardless of the state of his embouchure. "Anyway, I know you prefer to be alone –"
He is met instantly with a wave of the hand.
"It's not that I don't enjoy the company. I just wasn't sure how long I could last in there."
"No one blames you for that. But my son mentioned that his bride would like to see you before they…" Riker motions with his hand, adding to the insinuation of his next words. "Retire for the evening."
Chakotay shoots back the last of his drink, gathers his kerchief - he leaves the flower, now wilted - and pushes off the stool. He regards the barkeep with a thankful nod and walks with his colleague past the bass.
The cymbal rolls.
He was in their yard, tending to the last of the late season vegetables when the news came.
For all of his links to the spirit world and his deep connection with her, he still regrets that he hadn't seen it coming.
A cool breeze blew in from the east, rustling the leaves which had fallen with the changing of seasons.
Two individuals walked with precisely placed steps up the brick path. He heard them brush past the overgrown hedge which he had been planning to cut back later in the day. He perceived them making quick pleasantries with the dogs - enough only to get them off of their heels - before they rounded the curve of the house and knocked on the gate. They must have heard him back there, rustling and humming to himself, otherwise they would have certainly tried the front door first.
He stilled his breath, set down his spade, but did not turn to face the officers. It was silly, in hindsight, thinking that this short delay would mean anything in the grand scheme of things. But for that moment, he retained his peace. He basked in it, knowing it would soon be gone, never to be had again.
He would have given anything – anything – for the chance to have had someone – anyone – by his side right then. Instead, he turned to face them alone, tree at his back, across the field of tall grass.
"I'm going to hit the head," Riker says. "You go on without me." He peels away down the side hall and out of view.
Chakotay continues past the concierge and the bellhop and the gift shop which has long since closed. Pausing at the ornate entryway, he looks through the glass and sees the bride standing by the long table she had shared with her attendants. The evidence of dinner is gone now, the cake is in tatters. The band is packing up their belongings.
She looks like she's eager to leave.
So he pushes through the doors.
He doesn't know exactly what happened. No one who does emerged alive to report.
'There was an explosion', they had said. 'She was trapped.' And, 'It all happened so fast.'
From the bits and pieces, his imagination raged.
He knows that she would have been brave till the end. He can't bear to think that she was scared.
At least, it was quick. And she wasn't alone.
"I just wanted to thank you for today. I know it couldn't have been easy."
"All I did was walk. You're the one who made a lifetime commitment," he reminds. "And it was my pleasure." He takes a step back, looks at the bride standing there all grown up and beautiful in her dress of satin and silk.
The flowers in her hair have long since been lost to the dance floor, but the tousled curls frame her face in a way that brings back images of her, cradled in his arms. He lifts a hand and moves a few strands behind her ear. He can hardly recall the distances it has taken to get her to this point.
"You make a beautiful bride, even more so than your mother."
"I'll tell her you said that," she warns, teasingly.
"Go ahead, she'll agree with me," he says with a smile that quickly fades. "Your father… he would have been very happy today, you know."
A blush graces her olive skin, and her voice is hushed, "You think so?"
"Oh, yes," he assures. "Tom loved any reason to celebrate. And he loved you."
She turns her head to the side, casting a glance to her new husband who is engaged in animated discussion with his own mother. "And what about Kyle? Would my dad have approved of him? I mean, I did choose the hot-shot, pilot son of a well renowned Starfleet captain."
"He's a damned good poker player too," Chakotay adds. "I think he would have found all of that ironic, and I'm sure it would have pleased him greatly. But mostly, he would have approved because Kyle treats you well, Miral. And he would have seen, like I do, that you love each other."
She puts a hand on Chakotay's arm, sliding it down to grasp his hand with a small smile. "Having you here made it feel like he was a little closer today. I know it meant a lot to my mother too."
"I wouldn't have missed this for the world." He kisses the girl – no, the woman – on her cheek.
"Chakotay…" she says, hushed as he pulls away. "I wish she could have been here too. I miss her."
He lets the words of consolation roll off of him, like he's done so many times before. With a small nod he changes the subject back again. "Speaking of your mother, do you know where –"
"Captain Chakotay," the groom interrupts, "Thank you again for handing me such a lovely bride." He swings his new wife to his side and she squeals just a bit.
"I feel like I'm obliged to threaten your life if you ever hurt her," Chakotay warns, only half-teasing.
"I think my mother-in-law has already done that sufficiently. And neither of you have to worry."
The older man's eyes wander again, searching the room as the lovers deepen their embrace, clearly ready to be alone at last. "They're out on the terrace," Miral tells him, giggling as she is swept away.
He ambles through the dispersing crowd, across the ballroom floor and out into the starlit night.
They only made it out to the old oak one final time after she died. It was late that following winter, the sun had begun to sink down toward the horizon casting shadows on the field of fresh, white powder. Covered in layers of snow and ice, the branches of the tree sagged until they almost touched the ground.
The weight was too much for the old tree to bear, he knew. And it was almost too much for him as well.
He brushed clumps of flakes from the trunk where the wind had whipped them up, placed his hand on the aged bark and met her there once again. He heard her laughter in the cardinals as they plucked winter berries from the bushes. He felt the weight of her on his shoulders, riding high above the yellow grass. He smelled her sweet breath in the fresh fallen snow.
And then he left her there - with a large part of himself - to rest in peace while the tree limbs sagged and splintered under the weight of ice and dreams.
"Ah, there's my man of the hour."
"Why do people keep calling me that?" He leans down to place a gentle kiss on his wife's cheek and a warm hand on the small of her back where it is bare against her wine-colored dress.
"Chakotay," B'Elanna says with a broad smile. "Did you say goodbye to Miral? She was looking for you."
"Yes, they're leaving now."
"Oh!" B'Elanna exclaims, snapping her fingers. "I have to make sure they remember to thank the band. Excuse me." And then she bolts for the doors, silver skirt swaying behind her.
"Where did you disappear to?" Kathryn asks him, already knowing the answer. She takes his arm and they begin to meander along the expansive terrace. His hand skims the railing and the cool night air settles upon them both.
"The bar in the lobby."
"Ah," she sighs, right after all. "Bourbon?"
He nods.
"Thinking about her?"
He nods again and concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other. "And Tom."
"It's hard not to," she agrees, squeezing his arm a little tighter.
They continue walking on in contemplative silence. Other guests are departing now from various exits and they make a few brief pleasantries until their steps take them far enough away from the bother of farewells.
"They wouldn't leave me," he admits. "I had trouble focusing on Miral. I had to keep reminding myself that this was her day."
"Because Amelia should have had a day like this," she finishes.
His silence is agreement enough for her. He kicks the bottom of his dress shoe against the cobblestones, a weak gesture of the frustration long settled in his soul.
"I keep going over and over it in my head, and I always come to the same conclusion. I would have done for Miral exactly what Tom did for our girl," he confesses with a sigh. "And it wouldn't have made a bit of difference." Heart pounding, eyes blurring, he stops and leans over the railing to look at the dew covered grass.
She lays a hand briefly on his shoulder, imparts comfort through a gentle squeeze and says, "But it did make a difference, Chakotay. In those precious, final moments… she wasn't alone. And that means everything to me now."
Her words find their way through the fog in his mind, thick with sorrow. He offers her his arm again to continue their journey down the patio.
"I can't seem to stop living in that place where she was," he admits after a time. "It's as though I'm trapped there. And I see you… I've seen you for the last few years, living and moving on with such grace. Such ease. Part of me is jealous because I want to be able to do that. The other part is angry, I don't understand how you can just keep going."
"What other choice did I have?" she asks softly, not expecting an answer. "And Chakotay, nothing about this has been easy. If I've somehow given you the impression that it has been…"
"I didn't mean it like that. I've seen your grief, but it's so different than mine." They stop walking at the end of the way and she comes to rest with her back against the curve in the balustrade as he gazes out. It's easier to continue, he finds, if he imagines that she isn't there, otherwise he might abandon his confession as he has so many times before. "I hear you talking about her and you always seem so poised and calm. I can't even say her name, Kathryn. Do you know that?"
"I've noticed."
He tucks his chin further into his chest and everything within him burns. "I always thought it would be you who I'd lose. It never occurred to me…" his words die out, victim to the burning in his chest. "It shouldn't have ended like this. It's not fair."
She places her hand over his and twines her fingers, feels his tension, tries to massage it away. "I think I've finally learned that life is just not fair sometimes. We have to try and accept the things that are out of our control. And in doing so, appreciate each and every moment for what it is. Even the ones we're forced to spend without her. We still have each other and we can't take that for granted."
Her words and his next breath help to cool and quench his anger. In the stillness of the night he finds the irony of her statement.
"How did you become so wise?"
Her laugh is quiet and ends on a sigh. "Mostly by listening to you. And by watching our daughter."
"I should have talked to you about this sooner."
"You had to be ready, I understood."
He shakes his head, not wanting to lay this burden on her any further. "It's getting late, we should probably head out," he says. His feet are tired, his mind and heart weary.
"I know. I just don't feel like going home."
"Me neither," he admits. "Your assistant should have seen fit to reserve us a room here."
"My former assistant has been a bit preoccupied," she reminds. "It got lost in the transition and now they're booked full."
"Ah," he sighs into the night and steps back, taking her arm once again. "Well, that seals it then. Are you up for a walk to the station or shall I call a cab?"
"I think the walk would do us both good, but I could use a cup of coffee first. Why don't we stop somewhere before we go home?"
He regards her out of the corner of his eye. "You say that like you have a place in mind."
"You know me so well," she smiles, leaning into him. Her heels are beginning to make her feet ache so she kicks them off into her free hand and saunters a little shorter than before.
"Are you going to let me in on the secret? Or am I expected to just let you steal off with me into the night?"
"Where we're going, it's not night anymore."
"Oh?"
"I know this great little café on the other side of the world. Everything looks better from over there. You'll come away with me?"
He stops his steps, turns and takes the time to gaze into her caring eyes. The acceptance and understanding he finds there reassures him, beckons him to reconnect with her in all the ways he's been unable to since their daughter's death. His hand traces her cheek and he leans in and down, placing a gentle kiss on her lips.
Pulling away is as sweet, he realizes, as ever having lingered there in the first place.
"Can we talk about Amelia?" he asks, hushed and taking her further into his embrace.
"I'd like that very much."
=/=
Please be sure to check out all of the other awesome stories coming from this competition!
The usual bouquet of thank-yous to my beta, MiaCooper and to all the others who previewed this fic for me. And to Talsi74656 for hosting the competition!
Reviews/comments inspire and are always appreciated.