New Beginnings

Chapter Two

'And you told her about this…this circle?'

'The Dance.'

'Whatever.' Chakotay brushed aside Michael's comment, his mind working overtime. Damn it, the last thing he needed was for some idiot to fill her head with tales of restless spirits and gateways to 'the other side.' A curious sensation he was reluctant to acknowledge as jealously flared bright for a moment.

It should have come as no surprise to him that a nation as steeped in folklore as the Irish should talk so freely about communing with the dead. He'd wrestled with the notion of making just such a suggestion to Kathryn in the form of a joint vision quest, anything to rid her eyes of that haunted look. In the end, he had decided against it, unwilling to risk the delicate balance of their friendship. The knowledge that Michael had, once again, usurped his place did not sit well with him. Not for the first time he wondered what it would feel like to smash his fist into that smiling mouth.

Michael watched one emotion after another race across Chakotay's face, recognising the aggression vibrating through him. An expectant hush fell over the bar as the regulars picked up on the tension radiating out from the two men. It had been at least a week since the last bar brawl and the locals were getting restless. Money changed hands as a budding entrepreneur began to take bets on the outcome, while those closest settled down to watch the entertainment.

'Michael?'

The woman's voice cut through the testosterone charged atmosphere, elicited a chorus of groans from the audience. She cast a questioning glance in their direction, effectively silencing any further dissent. Her gaze swept around the room coming to rest on the stranger, poised as if for battle, on the other side of the bar.

Chakotay found himself returning her smile as his anger dissipated, to be replaced by confusion. Something in her gaze reminded him of Kathryn, though physically there was little resemblance. Black hair rebelled against the braid into which is had been fashioned, framing a pale but interesting face. He watched as the woman made her way over to Michael, stopping to brush some lint from his tunic.

It was the gesture of one lover to another, recognisable in any language. Oblivious to her audience, she leant forward and whispered into Michael's ear, her reward a swift kiss that put colour in her cheeks and a sparkle in her eyes. Apparently satisfied with the turn of the conversation, she nodded shyly towards Chakotay before disappearing once more into what he assumed was the kitchen area. Michael waited until he had Chakotay's full attention before speaking.

'You'll not have met Mary, my wife.'


'Sam?'

Her words echoed back at her, a cascade of whispers that sent ripples through the lengthening shadows. The failing light played tricks on her eyes, hinting at half-formed faces peering out at her from the gloom. She could feel their eyes boring into her back, sending shivers down the length of her spine, yet when she turned to face her accusers they melted back into the landscape, leaving her alone once more.

Taking a hesitant step forward, Kathryn brushed her hand against one of the massive pillars of stone to steady herself.

'Is somebody there?'

The absurdity of her situation began to penetrate the haze that had descended on her mind. Surveying her surroundings, overflowing with dramatic angles and ominous shadows, Kathryn was reminded of one of those monochromatic 'movies' from the early twentieth century that Tom was so fond of. If the plot ran true to course a handsome warrior, mounted on a gleaming white war-horse, would appear from the shadows and sweep her into his arms. Her enemies vanquished, they would race off into the sunset to live happily ever after.

If only life imitated art. Instead it mocked her, reminding her once again that for her there would be no saviour, no 'knight in shining armour'. She was alone.

Soaked to the skin, Kathryn found herself unable to control the shivering that began somewhere at the base of her spine, radiating out along her back. Reaching down she rubbed at her legs in an attempt to defy the numbness that had crept up them while she wasn't looking.

She needed to sleep and think, in that order. Experience should have taught her that wallowing in self-pity only ever succeeded in dragging her deeper into the mire.

'Computer … end program'

There was no answer…the wind howled at her, tugging at her skirt. She tried again.

'Computer…show arch.'

Still nothing

'Janeway to Chakotay…'

She was about to attempt to raise the bridge when she heard it.

'Kathryn…'

The voice reached out to her, a gentle caress in a sea of darkness. At first she thought it was her mind playing tricks on her. It wasn't until the sound was repeated that she realised it wasn't Chakotay's voice she was hearing.

'Justin!'

Slowly a figured materialised, each curve and angle embedded in her memory. His eyes smiled at her in a way his lips never could, drawing her to him. Taking first one step, then another she reached out to him…only to watch his image melt away at her touch as the trap was sprung.

The pain caught her by surprise, dragging a scream from her lips. Struggling against the arms that imprisoned her, Kathryn's dazed gaze met that of Seska's.

'How nice of you to drop in Captain, you have no idea how dull things were getting around here. '