He stood in front of the garden gate, his hand on the knob. Sighing, he hesitantly opened the gate. He felt like an intruder. Still, he had to know if Kathryn was fine.
His mind set, he made his way through the garden, heading for the back porch. That was when he saw her. The slumped silhouette of his former, oh so strong captain, lying on the icy ground, wearing nothing but a nightgown and a bathrobe. He froze. A cold fist gripped his heart, fear racing through his veins.
'Spirits,' he prayed. 'Please, let her be alive!'
Shaking himself mentally, he hurried towards her. Only when he was just a few steps away from her, he realized that she was crying, sobs racking through her small body.
"Kathryn?" he choked out. His voice sounded strange, so distant.
She flinched, abruptly turning her head. He looked her in the eyes and gasped at the thunderstorm of emotions he found there. Disbelief, desperation and loneliness showing clearly on her face. She seemed so very young, looking so vulnerable and small. Yet, she appeared so much older than the last time he'd seen her. It wasn't only because of the lines on her face… Underneath the churning sea of emotions, her eyes looked dead.
"Oh Kathryn," he murmured, kneeling down next to her. He reached for her, but she flinched again, shying away from him.
"No, this can't be real," she whispered, obviously confused.
He experienced a sinking feeling in his stomach. Carefully he reached out to touch her shoulder. "Kathryn... It's me, Chakotay."
Her features softened somewhat, so he took her face in his hands, feeling the desperate urge to comfort her. "Gods, I've been an idiot," he muttered, self-loathing creeping into his voice like acid. Again, he reached for her, trying to pull her into his arms.
She sobbed, struggling to get up. "You – you come here," she stuttered, her voice growing louder with every word. "You come to my house after… after all this time? After everything you did to me – and you… you think that's enough? Admitting that you're… that you're an idiot? You've been an asshole, Chakotay! A selfish asshole who gave a shit about his friends… or about me!"
She poked his chest with every word she said, tears spilling from her eyes.
"Kathryn, listen," he began.
But she interrupted him. "No! I can't do this! Now, go away!"
"Kathryn…"
"Get the hell off my property! And don't you dare come here uninvited ever again!"
He forced himself to look into those incredibly blue eyes, now sparkling with anger and gut-wrenching anguish. He desperately wanted to stay and help her, but he knew when he lost a fight against Kathryn Janeway.
Chakotay turned around, leaving her alone again.
When he was gone, Kathryn went straight to her bedroom, searching her closet for the bottle of 21-year-old Bushmills whiskey. It was the first thing she had bought when they got home after their seven-year-long journey through the Delta quadrant.
Opening the bottle on her way downstairs, she already took a huge gulp before pouring a fair amount of the amber liquor into a glass.
She wiped away her tears, downed another shot and then went to the communication console in the living room.
Undecidedly, she ran her fingers through her hair, her fingers hovering over the button to call Tom and B'Elanna. But she didn't know what she should tell them. That she couldn't come? 'No, this sounded way too important to cancel it,' she thought. 'But what else can I do about it? Tell them that I don't want Chakotay to come?' She snorted. That would be so childish. 'And it's their house, so they can invite whomever they want…'
If she'd ask them to uninvite Chakotay, they'd surely ask for a reason. And she certainly didn't want to tell them about her breakdown.
"Ugh," she groaned. "Looks as if I'll have to pull this through…"