Losing someone, he decided, was an act that left a lot to be desired.
He didn't know what was worse. The sound of the monitor telling him her heart had stopped beating. The jerk of her body as volts of electricity tried to coerce it back to action. The devouring feeling of helplessness that washed over him as he watched endless tricorders scanning her. The despair of knowing that he might have to leave the hospital without her as a nurse guided him from the room.
By the time he reached the corridor, the reality of the situation had hit him like a ton of bricks, the pain making his knees buckle and his already laboured breath hitch. He wanted to scream, but the tightness in his chest made it difficult to get enough air. A quiet, pathetic sob escaped him instead. He heard the nurse tell him the damage was extensive, and the sound of his own voice whispering Kathryn's name as his knees gave out from under him. He fell into a nearby chair and for a deluded moment, as if the doctors in this hospital didn't have a clue what they were doing, contemplated asking the nurse to contact Voyager's EMH for a second opinion; his acerbic tone alone surely enough to wake Kathryn up. 'Don't be an idiot,' he told himself. She was already dying and she wouldn't be able to put something like that on hold, even for the Doctor's benefit.
He managed to force his attention back to the nurse, and nodded his understanding as she kept prattling on about how they were doing everything they could. Looking down, he briefly wondered what part of her training taught her to comfort grieving husbands. His vision blurred and he closed his eyes, trying to fight off the tears that threatened to spill. 'Your words mean nothing,' he thought as he opened his eyes again, accepting her outstretched hand. 'What comfort could you possibly offer?'
"Thank you," he said for her benefit, the meaning of his words as hollow as hers had been.
Looking over to Kathryn's room, he hoped the woman would take the hint and leave. Thankfully the warm hand soon slipped from his. She told him she'd come and find him when she had more news and he watched her go back to where she'd be of use. He flinched. Kathryn's hand, in stark contrast to the nurse, had been cold and clammy, and when he'd taken it in his, he'd noted with alarm that she didn't seem to feel his touch. He had watched her go paler by the second, and his concern grew as he'd realised how much blood she'd actually lost. The apprehensive looks of the doctors and nurses had confirmed his suspicions, and he hadn't been able to stop himself from thinking that it seemed to be his lot in life to have his family ripped away from him. 'I'm going to lose her too. Just like I lost the others,' he thought, defeated.
It became increasingly difficult to breathe and he tried pressing his fists against his forehead hoping to banish the images of how she'd looked from his mind. He quickly realised that the attempt was futile. The images would never leave, and why should they? After all, if he hadn't been so damned busy, they would've celebrated their wedding anniversary weeks ago. Why had he insisted they'd meet at the restaurant? Why that restaurant? Why eight o'clock? Why hadn't he gone to meet her? The onslaught of questions ate away at him, leaving an all consuming guilt that cut through him like pieces of broken glass. He stood from his seat and started to pace, allowing his remorse, unfounded or not, to envelope him with all its might.
He kept on moving, back and forth, back and forth, hoping it would distract him from thinking. His heart beat like a furious drum, echoing in his ears as he desperately tried to calm his racing mind. His breath came in small, shallow gulps and his entire body hurt. He momentarily contemplated the irony of the situation; that pain like this only came from loving someone like he loved her. He had vehemently ignored his feelings for her the seven years they'd been in the Delta Quadrant. He had pushed away thoughts of her, fervently battling an over-active imagination and a body that reacted to her every move. He had waited till they were home, only to have her taken away from him by a criminal who deserved the wrath of the spirits upon him for the crime he'd committed.
The unmistakable sensation of fury erupted from within.
He hadn't felt rage like this in over a decade, but the feeling was familiar and he welcomed it like a long lost brother. It was overpowering and it quelled his guilt in its wake. It begged him to take action, to roam the streets until he found the perpetrator. To take his life, like the killer had taken his. Kathryn's voice resonated in his mind. He could hear her apologising for leaving the office late as clearly as if she was speaking to him now. He'd laughed and told her he'd known when he married her that he was marrying a workaholic. What he hadn't told her was that he'd secretly booked their table half an hour later than what they'd agreed on. And now some stranger had stabbed his knife into her, ripping her body open and leaving her to bleed to death in an alley way. Chakotay clenched his fists together; the skin on his knuckles turning white, and Kathryn's laughing voice faded away. Instead he heard the killer gasp for air as he imagined his hands closing around the man's throat, squeezing the life out of him. It felt good.
He wondered what she'd seen before the cool metal embedded itself in her chest. He wondered what her thoughts were when she'd felt the blood on her fingertips. He wondered how much it had hurt. He knew the attack must have come out of nowhere. Kathryn wasn't the risk taker she'd once been, and she wouldn't have walked through the alley if she'd suspected anything dangerous. He wondered if she'd been surprised.
During the years they'd been married he'd teased her about her dissipating recklessness on numerous occasions. In the beginning, she'd heatedly argued against it every time he brought it up. Then, late one night, she'd relented and told him as she kissed him lightly, that he was right and that the reason was that she simply had too much to live for. As the faint echo of her words rang in his ears, every thought of death and retribution vanished from his mind.
What was he doing? She wasn't dead yet. Despair, anguish, guilt and fury had been coursing through him, crippling him, and she wasn't even dead yet. She had too much to live for; those had been her exact words. If they were true then, they were just as true now. He ignored the part of him that said he was grasping at straws.
'Live⦠She'll live. She wants to. She's strong!' He could keep on pacing and let thoughts of revenge consume him, or he could focus his energy on Kathryn and her survival. He needed to believe that she would live through it and in her ability to beat the odds. That was what he could do for her now. He wasn't helpless after all.
He drew a calming breath and returned to the chair. The claustrophobic feel of the hallway seemed to diminish and he simply sat down to wait. Seconds rapidly ticked into minutes and minutes uncompromisingly turned into hours. Then he heard someone say his name and he forced eyes he didn't know he'd closed, open. It took a moment for him to focus on the person who'd appeared next to him.
"How is she?" he asked warily as he recognised the nurse's face. He rose from the chair and braced himself.
"She's out of surgery," the nurse began, taking his hand.
"And?"
"She had extensive injuries to her liver in addition to the collapsed lung."
"Yes, I know all that." He was getting impatient.
"Her heart stopped twice," the nurse continued. "But we got her back. She's going to be alright." The woman finally smiled.
"She'll be alright?" he repeated, not sure he believed what he was hearing.
The nurse nodded as she let go of his hand. "Yes, we believe so. Your wife is a tough woman." she said.
"You have no idea." he feebly joked, trying hard to keep his voice from shaking.
The nurse chuckled and Chakotay couldn't help himself. He laughed.
"She's incredible," he said, more to himself than the nurse.
"Of that I have no doubt," the woman replied, still smiling. "Do you want to see her?"
"Yes!" Chakotay laughed again, the tension from the last hours slowly evaporating.
"Follow me." The nurse turned and led the way to Kathryn's room. He could hear her saying something else as she opened the door, but he didn't pay attention. All he could focus on was the woman lying in the bed. He walked over to her and grabbed her hand, careful not to tear at any of the wires she was connected to. He sat down, still holding her hand, and felt peace wash over him. She was unconscious, but the hand that had been so cold and clammy the last time he held it, was warm and dry.
TBC
