She walked silently down the corridor that led to their- no, his quarters. Her fingers subconsciously entwined together and her breath came out as long and silent, so to not disturb the solemn atmosphere. The lights were dimmed, as it was almost night, and she appreciated the darkness as it reflected not only her feelings of sorrow, but that of the whole crews. As she sniffed and blinked back the tears that once again threatened to fall, she was thankful that there was no-one else around to see her so distressed. The tears had been coming all evening since the funeral, and although she had many more to shed, she would not let them fall in front of him; as he needed her now more than ever before. How surreal the last week had been, almost as unbelievable and detestable as a bad holo-novel.
When she reached the door to his quarters, she stood frozen looking at the door for an eternity, before reaching out a shaking finger to press the chime. She hadn't heard him grant her permission to enter, but the familiar hiss of the doors slid open to reveal nothing more than darkness. Attentively, she stepped inside. It was darker than the corridor had been, and when the door closed behind her, she felt a sudden uneasiness engulf her. She squinted her eyes, trying to let them accustom to the dark, and to discover the whereabouts of the newly appointed Captain. She was surprised that no one was there. At least, in the gathering darkness, the room appeared to be empty, but then she heard a soft cry come from the far side of the living area. She whipped her head in that direction, paranoia and adrenaline pulsing through her veins, and saw where the cry had come from.
His form was silhouetted against the fading light from the passing stars, and although a broken man, he stood tall, restoring his calm demeanour, only allowing that one stray whimper to escape from his heart.
"B'elanna" his voice was so soft it was almost inaudible and held a husky tone; it was more than obvious he had been crying. But, who could blame him? She only vaguely heard him mumble to turn the lights up twenty percent.
Although it was still dim, the sudden brightness startled her and forced her eyes shut. After allowing them a few seconds to adjust, she reopened then to see that he hadn't moved from his spot beside the window. As unwelcome as the light had been, it allowed her to take in his appearance. He didn't have on his Starfleet uniform, but a loose cream shirt and beige trousers. He was barefoot. Looking closer, she could see that his hair was unkempt and his eyes red and puffy, with dark circles lingering unwelcome underneath them. He did not smile at her, like he usually did in that familiar big brotherly sense, that always managed to calm her wherever, whatever the situation. She felt a pang of sympathy and was so taken aback by the helplessness of his appearance, it took her a minute to compose herself and respond.
"I just wanted you to know that we're all here for you." She spoke clearly and with reason, and took a step closer to him, gradually closing the large, unfamiliar gap between them. He wouldn't meet her gaze; he just turned and looked wistfully into the depths of space.
"Me, the crew. All of us, we're right behind you" he didn't respond at all to her words, and it was like speaking to a frozen hologram character. And so she continued, more quietly than confident as her words before had been, "She was a good woman, and a great Captain, and she wouldn't want you locking yourself away like this. She died so that we could live; no-one could have saved her, Chakotay, not even you. The doctor did all he could; but she's at peace now."
He had somewhat fallen back onto the couch while she had been talking and was now curled up in a foetal position; his legs were placed firmly on the couch, his head resting on his knees and his arms were holding it there, his fingers pulled at his hair. She reached out and attentively placed her hand on his shoulder. "We're all mourning for her, Chakotay, we all feel the same." Although she knew that the grief she was feeling was miniscule compared to that of his, the feeling that she had to help and comfort him was weighing heavy on her mind. He had helped her out of her darkest moments, and she felt indebted to him to do the same.
He wished that he could find the intended comfort in her words, but the anguish and guilt tore at him like even a thousand daggers couldn't and he felt angry, the need to blame someone overpowering.
His head snapped up, his eyes blazing dangerously, "She was my wife, B'elanna! My wife! No-one knows what it feels like!" She recoiled, the harshness in his voice shocked her and she felt an overwhelming urge to shout back, her Klingon emotions surfacing. But then it passed and she felt numb, with no desire to shout, and no energy to argue. What would be the point? He softened and looked away again, his voice hoarse. "I'm sorry. You just don't understand."
She came closer and sat beside him on the couch, placing a comforting arm around his shoulders, "Then talk to me. It won't get better until you talk" He can't bear looking at her for another minute. She is such a familiar stranger, and she waits surprisingly patiently for him to speak; she knows him well enough to know that he will, when he feels ready.
When he spoke he sounded something she had never heard him sound like and would never have imagined him to be; weak, helpless, and alive without feeling. "When we married, I made a vow to keep her safe; that no harm would come to her. She trusted me and I failed her." He fell silent, and lifted his head, but would not look her in the eyes. His face was still and pale, as though he regarded himself in the light of a murderer. "I broke my promise, and that's why she died." He hung his head in shame, and buried his face in his hands.
His helplessness stunned her silent, but when she spoke, she spoke with a fierce determination. "No, Chakotay. What happened to her was an accident. An accident. Nothing you could have done could have saved her. You know that." At that point his demeanour crumbled and heart wrenching sobs tore from his body, loud and bursting with grief. As the tears cascaded down his face, B'elanna took her former Captain in her arms and rocked him as one would do a child. She had never seen him like this. Not even when the news that the Maquis were wiped out almost entirely by the Dominion, which would have destroyed her, had it not been for the man in her arms. When he could not see her, she allowed herself to cry also. Silent tears of remorse streamed down her cheeks and dropped onto her shoulder, but she made no move to wipe them away; she felt somewhat comforted by their presence. She cried for the death, for the crew but mostly for Chakotay. She was one of the few that knew that if this didn't destroy him, it would come damn close.
They stayed that way for a long time. Holding each other, crying together, mourning for all that had been lost in such a short time.
After what felt like an excruciating eternity later, Chakotay's cries began to subside to silence and he let go of B'elanna, wiped his eyes and stood up. His legs were shaking slightly, she assumed from after hours of being in such an uncomfortable position, and his whole body still trembled. He headed for the bedroom door, only turning just outside it.
"Thank you B'elanna, I feel much better now. I think I'll go try to sleep." The lie was painfully obvious, and he offered her a fake smile of reassurance, and she knew better than to argue so she returned the smile with a sympathetic look, got off the sofa and left, only stopping to say; "If you should ever need to talk, about anything, you know where I am."
And so Chakotay was alone again. It had been almost hours since he had had any other proper company from the crew, and that had been at the funeral; during which he had given a speech then left before anyone could mock him with their sympathetic gestures. Instead he had left them to express their sympathy for him to each other with short simple phrases of "Poor guy" or "He'll be alright! He's Captain now!" In short, being in the presence of other people wasn't something he needed right now.
With a shaken breath, he ran a trembling hand through his hair. He turned slowly as he heard a soft whimpering coming from the dark room before him. He was at the crib with three large strides and within seconds he had tenderly picked up the child, as he had minutes after she had been born, and she looked so fragile he feared holding her too tightly could cause her to break. Like him. He rested the child gently in his arms, with her head on his shoulder, and rocked her gently until her soft cries began to subside. She was silent in his arms now, but he wouldn't let her go. The feeling of her thin auburn hair tickling against his neck was like a lifeline, and he clung to it. The fear that some sort of phenomenon would cause her to disappear if he let go was too much of a risk to him, and so he continued to rock her, humming a gentle tune until he himself felt weary. The fatigue persuaded him to lift the babe from his shoulder and place her back in the wooden crib, that he himself had constructed months before she was born. She didn't wake as he attentively pulled the blanket over her tiny body, or when he lent down to kiss her temple.
When he thought of how unfair the situation was, he wanted to burst into tears again. Just months after having their child, she had been taken away from him. So cruel. How this child would never know the greatness of her mother seemed like an excessive punishment for their own actions against the protocols. Without changing any clothes, he climbed into his side of the bed. It was cold, and so, silently he slid over the invisible barrier to her side and buried his head into the pillow. It still clung to her scent; the heavenly scent of coffee was forever imbedded into it, with soft touches of her lavender shampoo. At the familiarity of the scent he felt more tears coming, so he wrapped his arms around his body tight in an attempt to keep the pain in. To stop it spilling out in the form of a terrible wailing sound that would never stop; like that of a wounded animal.
The closest to sleep he got that night was a couple of hours tossing and turning, plagued by nightmares of the night his life was ripped apart, leaving his soul empty.
They had been on a small M-class planet, with the promise of stocking up on their fading dilithium supplies, the Captain, Chakotay, Tuvok and Lieutenant Torres. Scans from Voyager had confirmed that there were no intelligent life signs on the planet and so they had only taken a small away team down on the Delta Flyer, with only a phaser each for protection, just in case.
How they had needed more. The attack had come quick and while the team was out of both transformer range and the Delta flyer. The natives were not technically unequipped and had powerful guns that sent out a burning blue surge of power, sure to kill anything in its path.
The away team had been observing the nature of their surroundings for the best possible location of the dilithium when the natives of the un-named planet had attacked from behind the trees. They were over six foot tall and dark with unreadable expressions, and burgundy ridges covered all of their visible bodies. They were wrapped in dark shawls from their knees to their heads, where it was wrapped carefully around the creature's temple.
They had been outnumbered immediately, while there were around twenty of them with advanced powerful weapons, there were only four of them armed only with a phaser each. As one of them fired their weapon at Tuvok, who avoided it only just, it was clear that talking wasn't an option. So that left only one alternative option. Run.
B'elanna and Tuvok turned and ran in the direction of the Delta flyer, through winding trees and disappeared into the forest they had come from, followed by over half of the natives. Taking advantage of the remaining natives surprise at the running pair, Janeway and Chakotay turned and ran in the opposite direction, through a different forest that they were unfamiliar to. They could hear the thundering footsteps of the attackers following them and a kind of strangled war cry in their native tongue.
Janeway turned at warp speed, phaser aimed and the blast hit one of them square in the chest, knocking him down immediately. They continued running, adrenaline and fear pulsing alongside the blood through their veins, until they came to a small clearing, still hidden among the trees. Chakotay turned to see that they were no longer being followed, and assumed the death of one of their comrades had distracted them long enough to allow them to escape.
"I think we lost them. Are you okay Kathryn?" Chakotay moved toward Kathryn, who had sat on the ground, lent against a huge tree, trying to regain her breath.
"Fine. I'm just not at the peak of physical fitness at the moment." She smiled and gestured for him to sit beside her. He obliged, and tapped his comm. badge. "Chakotay to Voyager" no reply. He tried again hoping the other half of the away team had been successful in reaching the Delta flyer. "Chakotay to Tuvok" again, just silence.
"Well I guess all we can do is wait." He smiled at her and placed an arm around her shoulders, in a protective manner and although she would scold him for it later for inappropriate behaviour on an away mission, kissed her temple. If it had been any other time, she would have shooed him away and scolded him for the simple sign of affection on an away mission, but she looked exhausted. Her coming on this mission was definitely a mistake. They remained alert at the same time as being content and silent; fingers still cling to their phasers. After only a few minutes, Janeway began to shuffle out of his hold and stood up.
"Come on, Chakotay. I have a horrible feeling about all this. I think that if we don't get going now, we might be found by the wrong people." He contemplated the likeliness of being found in his head, and seeing the look of determination in her eyes, he knew it was pointless to argue with her.
They crept silently for about ten minutes before a deafening crack alerted them that they were once again not alone. Lifting their phasers instinctively, they pointed them at where the crack had come from. Kathryn saw the alien first and fired. The blast missed, and the native spun and ducked behind another tree.
"Get down!" Chakotay darted to the floor pulling Kathryn down with him. But not before the damage was done; the same alien had fired a lucky shot in their direction and it had hit Kathryn squarely in the stomach. She fell into Chakotay's arms and since the weapon had been deadly silent, he only first registered her injury when she lay gasping in surprise and pain in his arms.
Satisfied that they had done enough damage, the aliens retreated, shouting joyful cries of victory as they ran, dancing across the wilderness, leaving the pair alone. Oblivious to the damage they had really done.
There had been a lot of blood, and it covered his uniform faster than he could try and stem it. Her blue eyes were teary from pain as they bore into his own brown ones, hope itself spilling away with her tears. Chakotay's face paled and suddenly felt physically sick as the crimson liquid oozed down his hand and fell off the end of his fingertips. Stained.
In desperation, Chakotay hit his combadge and relief washed over him as he alerted the Delta flyer of their situation and the Captain's injury. They promised to get a lock on their position as soon as they could, and that they shouldn't move from their current location. So they were stationary, and alone on an un-named plant. He spent the next minute holding her, reassuring her, keeping hope alive and trying to convince himself that she would be fine as well as her.
"Chakotay, I'm not... I'm not going to survive this," she stuttered, certainty radiating like a dagger through her voice. She raised a trembling hand to brush her fingertips over this tribal tattoo. He caught her hand before it could drop, and kissed her palm. The blood had stained against her pale skin, causing a horrific contrast.
"No! Don't talk like that Kathryn! We'll get you back to Voyager and you'll be fine." He spoke, his eyes radiating determination into her, as though willing in life itself. Her look of utter hopelessness shocked him; as he had never seen this woman. The wonderful, brave woman looked so weak. He pulled her limp body further onto his own, to make her more comfortable; her head against his shoulder whilst he held her body semi-upright, cradling her like a child.
She tried to give him a weak smile, but the pain she was experiencing only allowed her to grimace, she shook her head. "No, Chakotay. P...please listen." Her voice was becoming huskier and she began stuttering to get her words out. She fingered at her collar where her Captain pips were positioned proudly, and with a trembling hand, managed to pull them off and push them into his hand. She closed his fist around them.
"Y...your C...captain now, your job," her eyes were closing and her breathes becoming more frequent and forced. He just looked at her in disbelief, shaking his head vigorously. His free hand brushing her hair from her eyes, so he could see directly into them as though it would make some sort of miraculous difference.
"No, Kathryn. Don't speak, save your strength. The Delta flyer will be here any minute," his fake optimism held no comfort to her and she could only breathe and cry. Lying, crying, dying in his arms. Nowhere else she'd rather be. He kissed her temple, clinging to her every shallow breath that he felt against his neck as thought they were a life line. He'd give anything to swap places with her right now.
Suddenly, the familiar feel of a transporter beam enveloped the pair and when they opened their eyes, they were in the same position on the floor aboard the Delta flyer. The first thing they saw was the horrified look that B'elanna gave the Captain, who was barely conscious, still in the arms of Chakotay. Together, they helped lift her onto a small bio-bed which would apparently make her more comfortable, but when they retreated to give her space, she still had a firm grasp of the front of Chakotay's uniform. So he stayed at her side, holding her hand. B'elanna returned with a medi-kit soon after and they gave her a hypo spray to try and relieve the pain. There was nothing else they could do except get them back to Voyager as quickly as possible so that the doctor could treat her more efficiently. Oh, but time was slipping away; Faster than sand between the fingers of a child on the beach. And as every minute passed, Chakotay could feel himself falling further into a bottomless pit of despair.
The next hour was a blur to Chakotay. When they were transported onto Voyager, he was only vaguely aware of being transported from the transported room one straight to Sickbay, the semi-conscious Captain still held tightly in his arms. On their arrival in Sickbay, they were met by the Doctor and five medical assistants, who were ready prepared with all sorts of tools and hypo sprays ready to treat the most important patient; they had been told in advance of the severity of the Captains injury and had to perform immediate surgery to cure the internal bleeding from the alien weapon. They had to practically pry her from Chakotay's protective grip, before placing her attentively onto a bio-bed and giving her an anaesthetic to knock her unconscious. The last thing she had seen were the anxious eyes of her lover boring into her own as blackness engulfed her.
The surgery was a long process. Chakotay had been sat outside Sickbay for almost five hours when he heard the first sign of life from inside. He jumped up from his spot on the floor and put his ear to the door; "No! Come on breath, damn it! Breathe" it was the doctor. Over-riding the security codes, he ran into sickbay but no-one around the operating table acknowledged him, each of them were too busy dashing around, grabbing hypo sprays, metal tools and, to his dismay and horror, one had a defibrillator. A young Ensign cried out, "We're losing her Doctor!" and the EMH pounded hard on her chest, willing back her heartbeat. "We have a pulse!"
Chakotay stood paralysed at the scene before him. It hadn't hit him before that Kathryn could actually... die. It just hadn't been an option. He had always been a realist but this was surreal, like a parallel universe, because after everything he'd been through he had thought, like a fool, he had some guarantees that the rest of his life would be without loss. Hadn't he already lost enough? Kathryn had helped him find peace after the Cardassians had brutally slaughtered his family, and he can't imagine a life without her, his anchor, his rock.
"There's nothing more we can do for her."
The Doctor froze momentarily before dejectedly dropping his defibrillator to the floor, his holographic fingers pressing against her neck to feel her fading pulse. He looked over at Chakotay, who just stared back in disbelief at him, his eyes empty and haunted.
"Awaken her. She's not gone yet," The Doctor pressed a hypo spray against her neck; in the same position his finger had been seconds before. Chakotay stepped slowly, and as he did, each Ensign and Lieutenant stepped back and turned away in respect – none with a dry eye. All trying not to acknowledge their great Captain's blood dripping from their uniforms and pooling at the floor.
He reached out and grasped her limb hand in his own; she was cold and he had come to expect no different. Without thinking, he lovingly placed his other hand over hers; sandwiching the small pale hand between his strong bronzed ones. She began to stir and before long, her eyes opened, slowly, painfully. He looked down at her and smiled, removing his top hand from hers and bringing it to cup her cheek gently. The moment she saw his eyes, she felt the familiar connection and knew her fate; she looked beyond the expression in his eyes, into his very souls and invaded his inner feelings and thoughts.
"C...Chakotay, promise... get them home," she stuttered, letting her head slump against his hand but not breaking the bond between their eyes. He could only nod, careful not to let his emotions overtake him. Ever the Captain; even on her deathbed, the welfare of her crew was more important than the fact she was dying.
"T...tell ...Aiyana about her m...mama," At the thought of never being able to watch her beloved daughter grow up, struck her heart and her watery eyes spilled over, soaking his hand; They mixed with the blood. Irreversible. At the sight of his heartbroken wife, he himself began to cry. Heart wrenching sobs tore from his soul and they cried together, for the life they had planned and began to create, was cut short. "T...tell her that s...she loved her v...very much, always," she could only choke out her sentences, and it was evident that it was causing her great pain to do so. "A...and you, C...Chakotay, always have..."
"I love you, Kathryn. And I'll don't think I can do this without you, hold on," Chakotay sobbed at the heartbreaking realism.
"I...I'm s...so sorry," she whimpered, and he felt the salty tears running onto his hands subside and her hand went limb once more in his own. And then there was silence.
Chakotay bolted up, panting heavily; a cold sweat enclosed his entire body. He had salty tears running down his cheeks that he didn't remember crying. How long was this torture going to continue? He had been plagued by this same nightmare every night since the day it had happened in reality.
Shakily, he reached out a clasped the holo-image from the bed side table. It had been taken on the day of their wedding, although no one on the crew had known about their secret union. They had asked a minister from a planet they had been crossing to perform the ceremony, which was very similar to the bond of marriage. The only witnesses they had had present were two of the aliens from the same planet. Still, it had been the happiest day of his life.
They had lived by command structure during the day, but once night fell, they were husband and wife making up for the cruel charade of the torturous daytime, bodies melding together to fit perfectly with each other, showing their love after a day of comradeship. Or just holding each other; comforting after the events of the long days, when they had felt the weakest. When the mornings came they would leave the Captain's quarters within five minutes of each other, with a kiss to help them survive the day ahead.
No-one ever noticed how the Commander was never in his quarters.
Of course, when Kathryn had found herself pregnant, as overjoyed as they had been, they had no choice but to come clean. To say it had come as a shock to the crew would be a severe understatement; they were stunned with disbelief. Over a year, and no-one had had any idea. Of course, they all knew there were feelings there, but they all thought the Captain was too stubborn to allow herself happiness. To Kathryn's relief, the only annoyance they had had toward the union was that they had all not been present. Then past the shock and slight annoyance, came the excitement and the Voyager crew lived in a cheerful atmosphere for weeks. Then after about two weeks after their sudden announcement, Janeway and Chakotay had come into the mess hall one evening to find that the whole crew had turned up to hear the oblivious pair renew their vows; with the Doctor as the reverend, of course.
During the months of her pregnancy, the Captain was always present during all of her shifts on the bridge. Chakotay had discouraged it but she had been insistent on for filling all of her duties as a Starfleet Captain, and he had known it would have been pointless to argue. This stress of her day to day work had lead Kathryn to go into labour ten weeks early in the middle of the bridge, which they had later joked about and said that the child had great timing, much to Tom Paris's delight as he had won the betting pool. The labour had lasted almost sixteen hours, during which Chakotay had stayed by the side of his delirious wife, until the point where his daughter had been brought into the world, when he had momentarily looked away to catch a glimpse of the newborn.
"Note time of birth in the log; 03.42."
"Note time of death in the log; 00.23"
He put the image back onto the table and turned the smiling faces away from him. The joy in their eyes was haunting and penetrated his very soul. Spirits,
His swung his legs down to the floor and walked through the dark until the dull shining of the stars met his gaze. They whizzed past the window faster than he could care to concentrate on.
"Chakotay,"
The former maquis did not turn, instead just continued his star-gazing, dry eyed and burning. He knew that voice, the voice that had once been the first he heard in the morning and the last at night. The way his name rolled off the tongue was too much to bear and he prayed silently that she would not dare say it again. He didn't think he could handle it.
"Look at me," again he did not turn. He remained silent for a few seconds more.
"And what about when I do turn around? And you're not there anymore. What then?"
"I'll be here. Trust me," he turned and his breath hitched at his pleasure and dismay. An angel,
And there she stood. Dressed proudly in her Starfleet Uniform, she took a step toward him but didn't reach out to him. He couldn't read her expression. It looked solemn, but there was a happiness there, lurking, buried deep down underneath all else, but he noticed it. She smiled then, a soft smile that was tinged with grief. "Always." He ran to her then and she didn't disappear, instead put a hand up to stop him.
He didn't feel any pressure on his chest, where he saw her hand was, just a comforting presence of warmth.
"I'm not here Chakotay." He words were soft, but offered no comfort to the broken man. He didn't speak straight away, but waited a minute or more before hoarsely whispering, "Why are you here then?"
"Hmm. I'm not sure really. I think you want be to be here, so your mind has created me. But that's only a guess," she took her hand from his chest and stepped so she was stood next to him, their Proxemics closer than had previously been. "and I'd guess you'd want one last kiss,"
He looked at her then, betraying himself. Closing the gap between them, he lent down and placed his lips firmly against her own. He felt her then, kissing back, hungrily, desperately. Her arms snaked around his neck and his around her waist.
It was he who broke the kiss, due to the need for air. He broke the kiss, and held her as he swallowed air, catching his breath.
She did not seem to breathe at all.
He pulled away slightly to look into her eyes. "I'll come to you," he felt his own tears well up in his eyes as he uttered the words, and saw the tear tracks down her face.
"And I'll be there, waiting," she smiled and traced the familiar tattoo on his forehead.
And then she was gone, and Chakotay was left alone.
Composing himself, he stood tall and crept over to his daughter's crib.
"I'll get them home, Kathryn." And she smiled.