Finding Peace

Looking behind, I am filled with gratitude

Looking forward, I am filled with vision

Looking upwards, I am filled with strength

Looking within, I discover peace

-Apache Prayer

Prologue

Chakotay stood in the hot sun, not feeling the sweat that beaded on his brow and neck. He was alone, the others who had been with him having all gone home. "How can we help you, Chakotay?" they had asked. "Would you like to join us for dinner?" "I'll have Mayra bring over some fresh soup later." Numbly, he had declined the invitations and thanked them for their kindness. Gradually, they had each left, sensing that there was nothing they could do for him now.

He stared at the freshly dug grave in front of him, and suddenly, his knees gave way. He collapsed into the sand, finally allowing his tears to flow. His body shook with great sobs as he pounded his fists into the harsh desert. The desert. It was responsible for this tragedy. He punched the sand harder as if he could make it pay.

But no, he thought. It wasn't the desert's fault. It was his. If I had loved her better, he thought. If I had cared more deeply. If I had been able to see past myself. He cried harder, his sobs coming out in loud, keening wails. His tears blinded him so that the desert and the grave before him appeared only as one single golden blur.

He stayed there, on his knees in the sand, until his tears were spent, evaporating as soon as they hit the ground. He wiped his face with his loose, cotton sleeve, the action blurring together his tears, sweat and little grains of sand. He brought himself to sit, cross-legged, in front of the grave.

"Eleni," he whispered, "I'm sorry."

He could almost hear her laughter in the air, see her smiling at him, her dark hair, dark skin and dark eyes seeming to glow under the sunlight. "It's not your fault, Chakotay," she would say. "I chose to live here. I knew the dangers of the desert. I lived with them all my life."

And you died from them, he thought. Another wave of shame washed over him. If you had been more dedicated to her, he thought.

Again, he heard her voice in his mind. "Nothing can overcome the desert. That's its beauty and its power."

Chakotay closed his eyes and breathed in the desert air. He had grown used to it over the past eight years. He had ended up on Yadozi almost by chance. After Voyager's return to the Alpha Quadrant and his failed relationship with Seven of Nine, he had boarded a transport for the Federation colonies, hoping that he might find some of the former Maquis. He had always harbored a secret hope that perhaps some of his friends and colleagues had survived the Dominion War and had not been murdered by the Dominion and the Cardassians, but instead had gone into hiding and found a way to survive somewhere in the colonial territories. On the transport, he had met a woman bound for Yadozi. After 24 hours, she had convinced him to come with her. Now, Eleni was gone, taken by the bite of a scorpion-like creature that was native to the Yadozian desert.

Feeling a breeze sweep across the desert, Chakotay slowly pushed himself to his feet. The breeze meant that nighttime would soon be coming, and nighttime meant danger in the desert, so it was time for him to return home. He shook his head. Home? It was an empty, quiet house. Eleni's house. It had been her home, but he did not know if it had ever truly been his.

He could remember Eleni's dark eyes peering at him across the kitchen table in the small home they had shared. "You don't really want to be here with me, do you?" she had asked him.

"Of course I do," he replied, feeling an intense guilt at the truth he knew was behind her question.

"It's all right, Chakotay," she said. "You and I both know this isn't really where you want to be, and I'm not the woman of your dreams."

Chakotay had opened his mouth to protest, but had found himself without adequate words. The next day, he'd been so wracked with guilt that he'd cooked her an elaborate meal and bought her favorite wine. But they both had known that there was more truth to her statement than he was willing to admit.

Now, as his shoes created a small cloud of dust behind him as he walked back towards the village, he felt a heavy blanket of guilt descend over him. She had deserved better than him. He had often wondered why she had chosen him, and why she had continued to choose him for so many years. He had gotten up the nerve to ask her once.

She had leaned over and kissed him. "You're a good man, Chakotay. A better one than you think. I'm too old to believe in fairy tales. Our time for that has passed. But I knew the moment I saw you on that transport that you had a good heart and a keen mind. I knew that was the kind of man I wanted by my side, and I think I'm the lucky one, because you're still here."

Now, he was here, but she was gone. He felt another wave of guilt as he realized that his thoughts were for himself, and not for her.

As the sun began to set over the Yadozian desert, Chakotay wondered what he would do now.