Two Lives
Abbey Carter,
VOY
PG
J/C
Summary: Assumes that Janeway was killed by Chak's mutiny in "Repression." They write each other. This has chapters! gasp Thanks to Djinn for the beta and to Alex for her suggestions. A response to Seema's lyrics challenge.
You've been on a road
Don't know where it goes or where it leads
-Alison Krauss, It Doesn't Matter
Along the solitary plain we went
as one who unto the lost road returns,
and till he finds it seems to go in vain.
-Dante, Purgatorio, Canto I.
Dear Chakotay,
Society likes to tell us that life is a journey along a twisted, obscured trail. It doesn't mention that death is as well. Since my death, several journeys have begun. Learning how to unravel the circumstances of my death and what it means about my life is one of them.
Dying wasn't hard. I saw the phaser in Tuvok's hand. I saw his arm tremble. I saw you stiffen, anxious for completion of the loyalty test. I searched you with my eyes, and found no indication that I had ever been anything different than an obstacle blocking your path. You nodded to Tuvok. I straightened. The bolt struck my head. I never fell.
Dying isn't hard, life after death is. Especially where they've put me. Not heaven, not hell. A great fire burns away my pathologies, a great loneliness pervades me. Until I have found peace, I cannot move forward. I have always believed that peace is overrated. In my life, it was secondary to duty and accomplishment. Perhaps this is why we could never connect. You might be interested to know that now, your vision of peace is important.
Until the end, you were a faithful first officer, a good friend. I know you find these words empty, hollow and incomplete. I am sure you're sick of hearing them. But they have always been true to me. During the hours prior to my death, you behaved as if we never had history, never had complexity or friendship. I understand that Teero's mind control was powerful, understand that it incited you to rebellion and mutiny. But I could not reach you in any form. And now I wonder if I deluded myself. Did we ever have a meaningful friendship? Did you hate me?
I never loved you well enough. Indeed, no one person could ever love perfectly. I sought perfection among the stars. Protocol never dictated how well I could love you, only in what ways I could not. Fearful, I turned away from you. The ship responded to my touch, it comforted me. And like any lover, it demanded all of my being.
The hellish years when we were under constant attack, those I understood. Those I could fight with willpower and torpedoes. We moved as one unit; protecting the ship, holding each other up. Later, when the attacks lessened, I learned that inner demons are much harder to fight. What festered within us during those times removed us from each other more than any external attack could have. It was the disconnect that hurt the most; it was the knowledge that I searched alone, and that an old path lay hidden and misused.
If I had loved you better, would I be here? I cannot know. It was your loyalty test, it was your mutiny. I don't know if you meant the phaser to be active, or if your minions tampered with it. It was your mind under control, but it was not yours that I could reach and touch. I am not judging you. You are not mine to judge.
The mission is incomplete. My death was pointless. I have struggled to forget the ship. I have struggled to let it go. I know that the rebellion is over, that you are in command, and that my death weighs heavily on you. There is little I can tell you, save that you have the means with which to address grief. Your spirit is resilient. That much I know of you.
There is good sort of failure here. I cannot fight or fly my way out. I cannot save myself. I can only acknowledge my failings. There is only one road I am led toward, one road I slowly accept.
I am less angry now. My death had no meaning; it had no purpose. But I realize that death often has little meaning, it simply separates our two lives. There are some things, if given the chance, I would have changed.
I would have conversed with Tuvok more frequently.
I would have fought less.
I think, I would have touched you more often. I never really hugged you, did I?
You will be strong, you will find your peace. The bulkheads of your mind will fall away, you will fly through calm space. You stood by me in the past. Now, I ask you to help me on this journey, as the rules dictate that I can't make it solely with my own progress, that I need the love of those still living. It took me quite a while to accept this. And to write you.
I don't know what is to come, but I don't doubt that it is good. The path curves ahead, and I walk it with memories of you, as a peaceful storm gathers on the horizon.
Kathryn
Abbey Carter,
VOY
PG
J/C
Summary: Assumes that Janeway was killed by Chak's mutiny in "Repression." They write each other. This has chapters! gasp Thanks to Djinn for the beta and to Alex for her suggestions. A response to Seema's lyrics challenge.
You've been on a road
Don't know where it goes or where it leads
-Alison Krauss, It Doesn't Matter
Along the solitary plain we went
as one who unto the lost road returns,
and till he finds it seems to go in vain.
-Dante, Purgatorio, Canto I.
Dear Chakotay,
Society likes to tell us that life is a journey along a twisted, obscured trail. It doesn't mention that death is as well. Since my death, several journeys have begun. Learning how to unravel the circumstances of my death and what it means about my life is one of them.
Dying wasn't hard. I saw the phaser in Tuvok's hand. I saw his arm tremble. I saw you stiffen, anxious for completion of the loyalty test. I searched you with my eyes, and found no indication that I had ever been anything different than an obstacle blocking your path. You nodded to Tuvok. I straightened. The bolt struck my head. I never fell.
Dying isn't hard, life after death is. Especially where they've put me. Not heaven, not hell. A great fire burns away my pathologies, a great loneliness pervades me. Until I have found peace, I cannot move forward. I have always believed that peace is overrated. In my life, it was secondary to duty and accomplishment. Perhaps this is why we could never connect. You might be interested to know that now, your vision of peace is important.
Until the end, you were a faithful first officer, a good friend. I know you find these words empty, hollow and incomplete. I am sure you're sick of hearing them. But they have always been true to me. During the hours prior to my death, you behaved as if we never had history, never had complexity or friendship. I understand that Teero's mind control was powerful, understand that it incited you to rebellion and mutiny. But I could not reach you in any form. And now I wonder if I deluded myself. Did we ever have a meaningful friendship? Did you hate me?
I never loved you well enough. Indeed, no one person could ever love perfectly. I sought perfection among the stars. Protocol never dictated how well I could love you, only in what ways I could not. Fearful, I turned away from you. The ship responded to my touch, it comforted me. And like any lover, it demanded all of my being.
The hellish years when we were under constant attack, those I understood. Those I could fight with willpower and torpedoes. We moved as one unit; protecting the ship, holding each other up. Later, when the attacks lessened, I learned that inner demons are much harder to fight. What festered within us during those times removed us from each other more than any external attack could have. It was the disconnect that hurt the most; it was the knowledge that I searched alone, and that an old path lay hidden and misused.
If I had loved you better, would I be here? I cannot know. It was your loyalty test, it was your mutiny. I don't know if you meant the phaser to be active, or if your minions tampered with it. It was your mind under control, but it was not yours that I could reach and touch. I am not judging you. You are not mine to judge.
The mission is incomplete. My death was pointless. I have struggled to forget the ship. I have struggled to let it go. I know that the rebellion is over, that you are in command, and that my death weighs heavily on you. There is little I can tell you, save that you have the means with which to address grief. Your spirit is resilient. That much I know of you.
There is good sort of failure here. I cannot fight or fly my way out. I cannot save myself. I can only acknowledge my failings. There is only one road I am led toward, one road I slowly accept.
I am less angry now. My death had no meaning; it had no purpose. But I realize that death often has little meaning, it simply separates our two lives. There are some things, if given the chance, I would have changed.
I would have conversed with Tuvok more frequently.
I would have fought less.
I think, I would have touched you more often. I never really hugged you, did I?
You will be strong, you will find your peace. The bulkheads of your mind will fall away, you will fly through calm space. You stood by me in the past. Now, I ask you to help me on this journey, as the rules dictate that I can't make it solely with my own progress, that I need the love of those still living. It took me quite a while to accept this. And to write you.
I don't know what is to come, but I don't doubt that it is good. The path curves ahead, and I walk it with memories of you, as a peaceful storm gathers on the horizon.
Kathryn