September 2012

Author's Note: Harry's not the only one who would cry if Captain Janeway died, I'm sure! AU, but I'm sure this could fit in somewhere, main characters are always dying and then miraculously springing back to life. It's fun to see the angst in the meantime, though, don't you think? :) As always, I'd love to know what you think!

Captain Chakotay stood at the window of his office, studying the algid stars that peppered the dark sky.

Yesterday, he would've said the stars were fiery and golden, friendly beacons pointing the way home.

Today, he knew they weren't harbingers of good fortune, nor could they predict his future- they were just spheres of plasma held together by gravity that would eventually extinguish, killing off all life that depended on them.

A chime came at the door.

"Enter," he called, turning. In the course of a few hours, he suddenly understood painfully well exactly why Captain Janeway had never let anyone see just how much turmoil she truly felt.

"Captain Chakotay," a statuesque figure silhouetted in his doorway stated coolly.

"What can I do for you, Seven?" Chakotay asked dully.

Seven strode into the room, exuding confidence as ever. "I have a question," she explained.

Chakotay examined Seven; her posture was perfect was ever, but little hints of grief permeated her features, leaving darkened circles under her slightly red eyes.

Chakotay sighed inwardly. He hadn't even moved to the ready room yet; Janeway's death still hung about the ship like an ominous raincloud, and Seven of Nine wanted to have a philosophical conversation, a little ritual only ever performed with Kathryn, with him. I'm not the Captain! Chakotay felt the urge to scream.

"Yes?" He turned back to the window.

"Captain Janeway played a pivotal role in both of our lives. Will her vacated niche ever be filled once more?" Seven questioned, her voice trembling.

Chakotay gazed at the frozen lights zooming past. Somewhere amongst them, she was there. Was she exploring once more? Had she found the way home? Yesterday, Chakotay would have sworn that Janeway would be at peace in some angelic afterlife, dressed all in white and playing with her dog and drinking all the hot coffee she could want.

Today, he knew her frigid, decaying body would traverse the void of space before being burned by the silent flames of atmospheric pressure, or pummeled apart by hurtling space debris.

Unwilled tears shimmered in his eyes as Chakotay turned his haunted brown gaze to Seven.

"No, Seven," he said quietly, simply.

And then they were alone- this orphaned, icy little girl and this broken, grief-ridden man, alone with the cold, cold stars.

So what did you think?! Leave a review, pretty please:)