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AN: Thanks to all who reviewed. It is much appreciated.

Chapter Six

There was heavy choking silence on the bridge. They were waiting for him to give the order. He had to give the order. He knew that the crew would stay in orbit as long as he desired, but... there was no point. Just say it, the new captain told himself sternly, just open your mouth and say

"Commander Paris, prepare to leave orbit. Resume course and speed toward the Alpha Quadrant." His voice was hoarse. Chakotay felt his ears ringing in the all-consuming quiet. So quiet. He felt like he was going mad.

"Aye, sir," came Paris' mechanical response.

The hum of Voyager's engines rose in pitch as she changed direction gracefully and accelerated. Stars stretched out to streaks, and there was a flash as the ship went to warp.

"Good-bye, Kathryn," Chakotay mouthed, the words not even audible. He mused over the events of the last several days.

The Torvalans had been "so sorry". It had been some kind of miscommunication. Chakotay had felt the irrational need to hit someone, but he had restrained himself. The First Prefect was dead, and the remainder of the government was in understandable chaos. Some random assistant deputy sub-minister of Something or Other had ordered her body, along with the bodies of the aides, removed. They were cremated quickly and without much ceremony, as was their custom, while some Torvalan equivalent of a shaman performed a "Crossing" ritual. After about a day and a half of haranguing by Chakotay, a morgue official had been able to locate the captain's pips and communicator in a small box labeled "Unidentified female 8".

When Chakotay had seen the four small pips and the communicator laying in the bottom of that box, he had felt his vision begin to darken around the edges. Until that moment, he had hoped against hope that maybeâ€just maybe, it wasn't true. Maybe it was some horrible hallucinationâ€a holodeck training scenario gone awry, a physical aftereffect of some of Neelix's cooking. Maybe†but no, it was true, it was real, as real and tangible as the golden communicator.

Then, something else in the box had caught his attentionâ€a delicate pendant on a thin gold chain. She had evidently worn it underneath her uniform. He dangled it from two fingers, and saw that the pendant was a carefully shaped and polished stone of a pale shimmery purple. He recognized it as one he had given her on New Earth. She must have attached the hardware herself. Evidently, she always wore it. The room reeled around him, and he found himself gazing into the concerned face of Tom Paris. He had opened his mouth to explain, but was only able to hold up the necklace, before he had to stagger to a corner, and be sick in a waste receptacle.

Unconsciously, he reached up to his own uniform front, and felt the slight irregularity underneath that was the pendant. As she had worn it as a mute testament to what they could have had, so he would wear it to remember what was always lost.

Kathryn is dead. Kathryn is dead. It thrummed in his head like a mantra, and yet each repetition was like prodding an open wound. He welcomed the pain... it made him feel a little less dead inside.

"We are now exiting the Torvalan system, Captain," came Ayala's voice from tactical. Chakotay did a double take, and then noticed Tuvok sitting in the commander's chair next to him. His figure slumped almost imperceptibly, as the pain was brought to him afresh, from a different angle.

He realized that that had happened many times throughout the week they remained in orbit around Torvala Seven. Little, tiny things that he would never have taken notice of were brought agonizingly to his attention. When he was in the ready room, he never sat in her chair. In his mind, that was still her chair. He generally started guiltily whenever anyone addressed him as Captain. The steaming carafe of coffee in the mess hall caused him agony. He could not even look at the door to her quarters when he passed by, and he knew already that he would never, never occupy them. The pain was too fresh, too raw. The chasm of empty years without her yawned before him bleakly.

At the end of his shift, he turned the bridge over to Harry Kim, who was pulling a double, and returned to his quarters. Once inside, he paced back and forth like an agitated tiger. Kathryn's memorial service was at 1800, and at that moment, he was in no state of mind to conduct it. He changed into his dress uniform, with his mind racing all the while.

How am I going to make it through this without breaking in front of the entire crew? I can't even get my mind around the fact that she's gone. I can't even fathom how I am going to go through each day without her.

He swore under his breath, and leaned against the bulkhead, staring out at the streaks of light that were unfamiliar stars. He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. Not for the first time, he wished there were a ship's counselor on board.

"Spirits help me," he pleaded, and then remembered his medicine bundle. He checked the chronometer for the time, and then lifted the bundle from its resting place.

Carefully he opened it, and arranged the cherished contents in the middle of the unfolded leather sack. He gently fingered a lock of red-gold hair that Kathryn had teasingly given him after he complained about her haircut.

"Akoocheemoya" he began...

He was in a small wooded glade near his childhood home. The silver she-wolf was walking through the trees, dappled in sunlight. She trod heavily, her tail dragging the ground. Chakotay knelt and beckoned to her with one hand. She came to him, and laid her nose in his palm, without much enthusiasm.

"Sister, will I ever be without this pain?" he asked. She looked up at him, and her huge, moist eyes seemed to be sorrow itself.

"Pain is a part of life that is inescapable, my son," came a voice from behind him. Chakotay turned and saw the wizened form of his father.

"I know, Father. But the sadness in my heart is like a vise. I have people to take care of, and I don't know if I can do it."

"You are my son, Cha-ko-tay. You will not shirk your duty. Duty and responsibility give life purpose."

"She was my purpose, Father. And she is gone... I feel adrift."

"Do not let her be your rudder. Let your love for her guide you along your path. Life is a journey in many forms and on many planes. It may be that one day you shall see her again." An idea suddenly occurred to Chakotay.

"Is she here, Father? Could I see her now, during a vision quest?"

"She is not here, my son. Her ways are not the ways of our people." The old man shrugged and turned to walk away. Chakotay whirled as he heard something stir some of the tiny tree branches behind him. Leaves shook, as if a small animal had disturbed them, but he saw nothing.

The wolf stood to attention, her gaze fixed on the area from which the sound had come. She whined.

"What's wrong, sister?" he asked. She crouched down, and peered into the glade, ignoring him. She sprang suddenly, bounding through the trees, barking.

"Wait!" Chakotay called, but the wolf had disappeared into the woods. Cracking branches and rustling leaves echoed back to him faintly. He thought he heard the wolf bark. And then...

"Chakotay," came a voice he knew. It was floating, ethereal, drifting along a breeze. He turned, but no one was there. "Chakotay," it said again.

"Kathryn!" He called out. "Kathryn, where are you?" His voice was ragged and desperate. He walked into the trees, brushing branches away from his face.

"Chakotay," fainter this time, as if further away. He careened through the forest in the direction that his spirit guide had gone.

"Kathryn! Kathryn! Kathryn!" He felt out of control, screaming her name like he was out of his mind. He felt hands on his shoulders.

"Chakotay!" It was the frantic voice of B'Elanna Torres. "Chakotay, are you alright?"

"I – I – "he stammered, his eyes tripping back and forth between the chief engineer and her husband. "I –"he felt light-headed, trying to separate reality from his vision. "I heard her voice."

"In your vision?" B'Elanna asked, after exchanging significant looks with Tom.

"Don't look at him like that!" Chakotay snapped. He stood to his feet, and took a couple of steps, stopping to pinch the bridge of his nose, as if warding off pain. "I'm okay." He repeated it to himself, trying to make it true. "I'm – I will be okay." He looked around briefly, and then frowned. "How did you get in here?"

"We could hear you screaming out in the corridor, so we overrode your lock." Tom looked bemused. "We came to get you for Ca- for her- for the memorial service." He peered at Chakotay with concern. "Are you sure you're up for it?"

Chakotay bit back an angry retort. They're only concerned about me. And they should be. I haven't exactly been in stellar condition, considering I'm supposed to be commanding a starship.

"I'm fine, Tom. I just – I thought a vision quest would help calm me down. I wasâ€agitated."

"Guess we debunked that theory!" Tom cracked, and B'Elanna phasered him with a look.

"Maybe you shouldn't try that again for awhile," B'Elanna suggested gently. Chakotay shrugged noncommittally, and hoped that the gesture would suffice, rather than an actual answer.

"Let's go," he said, by way of reply, and the three officers exited his quarters.

TBC