There is a particular kind of suffering to be experienced when

You love something greater than yourself. A tender sacrifice.

Like the pained silence felt in the long lost song of a mermaid; or

The bent and broken feet of a dancing ballerina. It is in every

Considered step I am taking in the opposite direction of you.

Lang Leav

Disclaimer:

I do not own these characters. They belong to Paramount, and I am just borrowing them for a while. No copyright infringement intended. Jonas Fielding, however, is my original Character.

Summary:

This is my first ever fan fiction. Please review and let me know what you think. All errors are mine.

Kathryn and Chakotay's story has fascinated me since I started watching Voyager. I can't let go of the feeling that Endgame should not have happened the way it did. It killed me to see her face at the end. I can't accept that they did not get together, so here is my fix.

CHAPTER 1

There was a part of her that understood. She knew why he did it. She got it.

But all the stars in the heavens help her, it hurt. The kind of hurt that nothing will heal. Pain that was eating away at her.

Kathryn lifted her head to look at the stars from where she was standing on the balcony. Constellations she hadn't seen in 7 long years blinked backed at her, and the enormity of the betrayal she felt, the pain settled around her, inside her. It hadn't let up since that last day on the bridge when she turned and found him not by her side. Standing in a darkened corner of the balcony away from the glaring light of the Welcome Home ball where the music was blessedly muted, she tried to force some much-needed air into her lungs. It felt like she had been holding her breath forever and she couldn't stop gasping. She felt the feelings gaining momentum and once again tried to inhale deeply.

It had been a long month. Kathryn rubbed her temple without even realising, her fingers trying to lift the vice-like grip the headache had on her. Slowly rolling her neck backwards and to the sides, keeping her eyes focused on the stars above.

Her movement caused the emerald green dress to move slightly, the sound of the fabric whispered across her nerves. She had had enough of this day. She had enough of everything. Her back muscles visible in the backless gown she wore for the occasion, tensed and flexed. Phoebe had insisted on the dress. Something along the lines of her needing a reminder that she was a desirable woman.

She just felt old.

And tired. So damn tired.

Her sigh puffs over her lips and escapes into the air.

At her back, the music increases in volume, and she stiffens slightly. The captains mask shifts down over her face, her back straightens. Eyes turn to slate while she stares sightlessly across the night. Her arms folded protectively across her chest to hide the slight tremble in her fingers.

She knows who it is before he speaks. He steps up just behind her left shoulder. She feels the heat coming from his body, and his presence wraps around her like a physical thing. A cup passed over her shoulder, and the smell of coffee snaps her attention to the hand holding the cup.

"You looked like you might need this."

Slowly she reaches up and takes hold of the cup, their fingers touching and goosebumps break out on her skin. A shiver passes through her, and she wraps both her hands around the silver cup to try and stem the visceral knee-jerk reaction she feels when his hand slides back over her shoulder, slightly grazing the skin on the way back. Still, she faces forward, refusing to meet his eyes, even while she can feel his eyes branding her. She can almost feel his eyes moving down her exposed back. Her hand flutters to her temple again.

"Headache?" His voice whispers over her shoulder closer than she was expecting and she shivers. She doesn't answer, has barely spoken to him since they got back. She couldn't look at him. Had been avoiding doing so since they stepped of Voyager. Refusing to trust her voice she nods slightly, before dipping her head and taking a bracing sip of the coffee. The heat warms her insides, and she sighs.

"Kathryn…." His voice wraps the syllables of her name around his tongue, and she closes her eyes. She hates the way he says her name, the way it makes her heart expand and the vice tightens some more around her chest pushing more air out of already screaming lungs.

"Kathryn. Look at me."

She dips her head in response and takes another sip of her coffee. She can't do this. She can't do this right now. She wasn't ready yet. She didn't think she would ever be prepared. His weight shifts at her back and her hands grip white around the cup. Another dip of her head and another sip of coffee. She knows just before she feels his hands that he is going to touch her. Something inside her tightens; intensifying the ache inside to painful pinpoints. Her body stiffens, and her back straightens further to place as much space as possible between them.

"Don't." Her voice is low and controlled. The rasp pronounced and grating. "Don't." She repeats. She dips her head again and before she can take another sip a hand shoots out, takes possession of the cup and places it roughly on the small table next to her. The sound of steel meeting glass is shattering and loud in the silence.

She feels his anger rolling off him, picking up on the way his broad frame is almost vibrating with the emotion. His hands shoot up and encircle her upper arms, spins her around and their eyes clash and hold. The contact is like glass shattering. Something fractures inside her, her lungs expand, and for the first time in a month, she sucks in a deep breath. The relief is instant.

"For all that I hold holy woman, will you look at me. Look at me, Kathryn! Just…"

Suddenly she steps into him. His voice cuts off mid-sentence, the anger fizzling and something else takes its place as her breasts make contact with his rapidly rising chest. His lungs seise. His eyes widen slightly; she sees the desire fire stark and wild in his eyes. His nostrils flare as he inhales sharply, overdosing on her smell this close to him. Pupils dilate even further, turning his eyes black as onyx.

And for once in her life, Kathryn Janeway stops thinking. She looks at the man she loves more than her own life, more than anybody before; and does the only thing left for her to do.

She says goodbye.

On her terms.

Her hands make contact with his chest as she lifts herself up to his face. And she feels him suck in a breath right before her lips make contact with his.

Everything stops.

The world around her fades into nothing, her whole being drowning in the feel of his mouth. A raw sound escapes his chest, the sound vibrating and echoing through her chest.

Before she can move away his hands take possession of her hips, pushing her back against the railing. A storm of sensation shocking through her. The contact of his hand on her open back is like a current through both of them, and her moan cuts the silence around them vividly. She can't get enough of his mouth, the taste of his tongue when he takes control of the kiss. His mouth slants across hers, across her cheek and she arches her neck as he breaks contact with her and drags his mouth across her throat.

"Chakotay.." Her voice rasps and roughens over the word, torn from her mouth. His name had not been used for so long, and it felt like forbidden in her mouth.

Kathryn throws her head back sucking in air; she was on fire. His arms crushed her to him, and a sound, almost like he was in pain, fires her blood. His hands strip down her back, one arm supporting her and forcing her backwards, straining towards the balcony railing. The cold metal against her exposed back shocks through her. His hand comes up, skims over her breast and she sucks in another breath.

It was almost too much.

His mouth took possession of hers, kissing her with so much passion that she didn't feel of this earth. Her blood fired through her, and her arms travelled up and locked around his neck, tangles into his hair. A hand closes over her breast, and her knees buckle, tightening his arm around her in response, pulling her into him even more.

He rips his mouth from her and sucks in a breath. Her lips feel swollen and bruised, and she moans low in her throat when his hand kneads around her breast, her eyes blazing from her face, burning into his glazed hooded eyes.

The feelings were so overwhelming that she couldn't remember the reason she had to stop this. Chakotay's hand travels up to her face, gently cupping her cheek and he starts to drop his head back towards her. His eyes glazed and passion filled, he was everything she could have ever wanted, everything she needed. She would remember him like this for the rest of her life. And then reality slowly creeps into her consciousness like it always does.

He was not hers.

Her hands unwillingly unlock from behind his neck and slipped down his heaving chest. His eyes fire with emotion, and she sees the moment he realises what she is about to do.

"NO!" His voice rips the word apart.

The music volume lifts in the background.

"Captain?" Tom Paris's voice queries from the door. His blonde head swivels in the opposite direction from the two people locked in each other arms. The anger on Chakotay's face as she steps out of his arms slams against her. His arms fall onto the balcony railing. By the time Tom looks in their direction, Kathryn is standing facing him. Captains mask firmly in place. Chakotay struggles to get his face and body under control and remains starring out at night. He clutched his chest, felt her straighten next to him, almost hear the walls crashing down around her as she shuts Kathryn away and the Captain faces Tom.

"Captain?" Toms' voice raised slightly. His eyes were straining into the darkness surrounding them.

Kathryn takes a step forward and feels agony slicing into her. Her hand opens and closes convulsively, still feeling Chakotay's hair threading through her fingers. Numbness spreads outward from her chest, she swallows convulsively, and her mouth opens. The wail claws itself upward into her throat, broken glass cutting its way towards the opening that is her mouth. She slams her lips shut, closing her eyes briefly, and squaring her shoulders.

"Yes, Mr Paris?" Her voice sounds dead. Chakotay drops his chin and sucks in a breath. He needs to hold her. He needs to make it stop. He needs to feel his Kathryn alive in his arms again. He NEEDS….

"Captain, your presence is needed inside." Tom's head swivels from her to the man standing rigidly next to her, puzzled by the tension crackling the air like ice. Chakotay balls his hands into fists, tremors running through him as he fights for some control.

She walks away from him like nothing happened and his world comes crashing down around him. Feeling like he had been caught unaware in the solar plexus, he can't seem to find his breath; she hesitates as she steps through the balcony doors. For a moment he feels her looking at him, then her voice reaches him where he is still standing holding on to the balcony railing. Of all the times they have fought, of all the times he could have gladly strangled her, this moment tears through him because he knows what she is about to say. He knows, and he can't stop it. And his soul is in his eyes when he swings around to her. His eyes plead with her, silently screaming at her to look at him, to please not do this. And then her eyes meet his, and he can feel the panic flailing powerless inside his chest. Slate grey nothing stares at him without really seeing, staring through him rather than at him.

"Goodbye Commander." She lets go of the door, turns to Tom, and steps into the ballroom with him.

Chakotay can't catch his breath, and he doubles over. His breath gets stuck in his throat, and he blindly grasps the balcony railing. His heart contracts and a sound escapes his lips without any ability to stop it. He gasps, and it boils and turns inside his chest. He folds forward trying in vain to stem the pain. He blindly clutches at his chest again. No. She didn't just do that. She didn't just walk away from them. He bellows into the night. The sound is tearing up from his soul, rendering his throat bare and raw.

The next moment the sky explodes in a profusion of colour and sound. The finale to their welcome home. The cacophony drowns out his shout and makes it part of the explosion of colour shading the night in neon colours.

He loves her. She is what makes him a better man; she makes him fight to be that man he sees when she looks at him. Darkness yawns at his feet, and the world tilts.

Nothing and nobody will ever change that, nothing he does will change that, and nothing she does will ever change that. Comprehension settles over him, stark and clear through the anger and the pain.

She knew. Somehow she knew about Seven. That's what this was all about. That's why she was waiting out here for him. She has been waiting and planning this all this time since he saw her looking at him across the bridge with Earth at her back in the view screen. He thought that she didn't love him. He had been so sure of that.

But her face that day.

He can't get that look on her face out of his head.

It haunts him.

That was the last time he could get close to her, for the last month they have been in debriefings, and any attempt on his part to make contact had been redirected. He didn't realise that she has been the one doing the directing until this moment. He didn't see this coming. She got the Maquis exonerated, with full pardons and retention of field commissions. She made good on every single promise she ever made. Officially and unofficially. The Doctor, Seven, Icheb, Tom. So many unspoken promises, so many lives that depended on her. And she brought them home. He made one promise to her.

His chest heaves. He felt sick.

Kathryn Janeway was the unbreakable captain; she was his friend, she was his, like his limbs where a part of his body. Things were strained with them, it had been for some time, but her face, when she looked for him at her side and then found him next to Seven; it will forever be part of his nightmares. He did that. To her. The woman whom he loved more than life itself, the missing piece of his soul. He did that. He killed her as surely as he pulled a phaser on her. And for the first time since they stepped away from Voyager, he panics because he doesn't know if he can fix this. Blind panic makes him spin around, frantic to get to her.

B'Elanna places a hand on his chest, halting his forward movement. He groans, and flicks his eyes over her head, trying to step past her but her hand keeps him in place.

"Easy there big guy. Take a breath; you are as white as a sheet. No need to put the crew on red alert looking like you do." Her voice is worried, and her eyes betray her concern. " What the hell is going on Chakotay?!" Her voice hisses through her lips and smacks into him. He sucks in a breath, rolls his shoulders, another breath, and shoulders the panic. He takes a step back and meets B'Elanna's eyes.

He doesn't know what she sees there, but it is enough to rip a string of Klingon curses from her lips. "You are a damn Ptak!" And she shoves him, hard enough to make him take a step back. Her eyes flick over her shoulder and back to him.

"What did you do?! Is it true?" Chakotay swallows, tries to clear his throat, flicks his eyes up past her and catches a shimmer of green as it slips past the exit of the ballroom, closely followed by Tom. The look on Tom's face as he shoots a glance at the balcony door forces him forward. His senses and his focus go into Red alert mode, and calm forces its way past the panic, pushes the anger out of the way and settles in his gut, cold and clear. Once again B'Elanna steps in front of him, forcing him to focus on her. "Please…" the word tears past white lips.

Flint hard eyes meet his, angry, hurt. He hasn't seen her like this since their time in the Maqui.

"Please B'Elanna, let me fix this, let me go to her." He hears the edge in his voice, the begging sound that soaks through the words and makes her eyes go black and furious.

"Kahless, you have done enough. What were you thinking Chakotay?! Seven?!" She rakes her hands through her hair, scattering pins over the balcony floor. The light from the finale flashes in technicolour over her face, giving it a harsh look, unforgiving. She meets his eyes again and gets right into his face. "You fix this. You fix this Chakotay, or so help me, I will never forgive you." Her eyes fire up at him. He reaches for her and briefly crushes her to him before he steps past her. Urgency fills him, and he walks past the doors into the ballroom, past the people trying to stop him, and out the door. He has to fix this. He has to. Nothing else matters but this.

Home is nothing without her.