Epilogue – a few months later

Chakotay

It's completely dark. I wait for my eyes to adjust, hoping no one noticed my transport into the Janeway house. No alarms blare, but that doesn't mean the local authorities weren't alerted the moment we made contact. I have no way of knowing, so I carry on. I know my plan is dangerous and there's a high risk that it'll end with me in Federation custody, but when I heard the news I had to come. I couldn't stay away.

Slowly my eyes adjust to the darkness and I see a flight of stairs, right in front of me. Pictures are hanging on the walls, though I can only see the outline of the frames. Behind me is a solid wooden door, presumably the front door. I let out an almost silent breath of air. It appears that I'm right where I'm supposed to be. I guess Torres really does know what she's doing.

I start to make my way upstairs. In the night-time stillness, I'm aware of every sound. My footsteps on the ancient wood, every creaking stair. Every few moments I hear the wind howling somewhere upstairs, whistling through some tiny crack in the attic or some uneven seam next to a window pane. The hair on the back of my head rises as I realise it's been years since I've heard the sounds of a house like this. Old-fashioned. Handmade. Starfleet buildings don't have sounds like these, they hardly have sounds at all. The houses on Sunkila and the other Maquis-friendly colonies are constructed in a different style. Not to mention in a different climate. And Maquis buildings aren't houses at all, they're sheds, shelters. Nothing more. Nothing like this… homestead. Nothing like my childhood home, before the Cardassians.

I try to shake off the sudden feeling of homesickness as I cross the first landing and move to the next flight of stairs. Our least-invasive scan – and least likely to attract attention from authorities - could read three lifeforms, all human, female and presumably asleep. I didn't need to know more. Instinctively I knew that Katie – Kathryn – is the one in the attic; closest to the stars.

I'm almost there and so far no sign that anyone is aware of my presence. I reach the last few stairs and slow to a crawl. This is where it gets tricky. I don't know much about the layout of the house and have no idea if there's a door between the stairs and the attic, and if so where it is. When I reach the top of the stairs, I move even slower, my hands outstretched in front of me. After a few steps I hit a wall. I fumble around for a few moments before finding the door handle to my right. I turn it and push the door open, shuffling carefully inside. I push the door closed behind me, still trying to be careful, but I hear it click. Just a small sound as the latch falls into place, but almost immediately I hear movement and a voice orders 'Lights!'

The lights blaze on full-force and I stand there blinking like a deer in headlights. By the time the first glare clears, Kathryn is standing right in front of me, phaser aimed at my chest. Though she's squinting against the bright light too, her aim is perfect. Her eyes hold that same steely determination I remember and my heart lifts. I've been so worried about her the past few days; ever since I heard about the accident that killed her father. That worry brought me here, lightyears away into the heart of sector 001. I just couldn't shake the feeling that this loss would devastate her – break her. Like the death of my family broke me. Seeing her so fierce is a great relief. But it´s also a bit… unsettling. Can I be envious?

The thought has barely entered my mind when I see her falter. 'Chakotay?' she whispers, so softly I see more than hear her say it. The arm holding the phaser drops to her side, unnoticed. I smile at her, but I also begin to notice the bags beneath her eyes. The fizziness of her hair. As if she just got out of bed, yes, but worse. How much her hand shakes as she brings it up to cover her mouth. Perhaps I wasn't wrong at all.

'Kathryn?' I say, taking a step forward to gently brush her arm. I don't know if it's my voice, or my touch, or just the realisation that I'm real, but I can see the strength leave her. As if I flicked a switch, or no, as if I pulled a plug. It drains out of her eyes. Her whole body sags as her energy flows away. From one moment to the next, she collapses. Her arms come up to cover her lower face and her knees buckle beneath her. I catch her just before she crumbles to the floor. I shuffle awkwardly, almost dragging her with me, until I can deposit her on the bed behind her. She sits, staring at me wildly, but that's it. I sink down onto the bed next to her and I don't know what to say. She scares me. There's no life in her eyes, just barrenness. I don't recognize it. I don't see her indomitable spirit in those eyes.

When the Cardassians destroyed my home world I felt grief, but mostly I felt rage. It fuelled me and consumed me. I don't recognize this emptiness. I don't know how to deal with it.

In the end, it's Kathryn who shows me how to reach her. Without turning her eyes from mine and with her hand shaking terribly, she grips my hands, first with one hand, then, when I make no move against it, both. Her grip is punishing, but I don't move away. I know she's reaching out to me for help. Instead, I turn my hands around so I can grip her back just as fiercely. She still doesn't speak, just looks at me, almost without blinking. I guess it's up to me to talk. So I do.

I tell her how good it is to see her. That I've thought about her, wondering how she was doing, how her return to Earth was after we said goodbye. Was it easy to adjust? Was her debriefing difficult? Did the Captain recover? After the first few sentences, it becomes easy to talk to her. All the thoughts I've had about her the past few months, that I couldn't share with anyone, come pouring out of me. She just looks at me, without any attempt to respond or interrupt. It's almost like talking to someone in a coma. But every now and again I see a flicker of emotion in her eyes, and I hope I'm making some kind of dent in her numbness. So I prattle on.

I tell her how I heard about the news of her father's accident, almost two weeks ago. Weeks after it had happened. How I worried about her and grieved for her. How I couldn't express my worries to anyone, because nobody knew who she really was, and they can't. How I tried to find out about her, how she was doing, but that's not the kind of information you can access countless light-years away on a Maquis ship. So, finally, I couldn't stop myself from coming here and seeing for myself.

That finally draws a response from her. I see fear in her eyes and her grip on my hands tightens even further. 'Chakotay,' she whispers, again. The rasping quality of her voice makes me wonder how long it´s been since she´s used it. If she´s talked to anyone about what happened. She swallows, painfully I think, and I wait to see if she has more to say. My patience is rewarded. 'You shouldn't have come,' she grates out, her voice still huskier than I remember it. 'Too dangerous.'

I realise that the fear I see in her eyes is for me. The first emotion she's shown and it's for my safety. I'm more certain than ever that I was right in coming here. I gently untangle one of my hands from hers and reach for her face, caressing her cheek. Her hand follows, holding mine securely against her face. As if I'd want to let go. 'I had to come,' I tell her simply. I know my eyes are telling her far more than that. It should make me feel self-conscious, but I see enough of it mirrored in her eyes to realise I might have the answer to her detachment. I assume her numbness is a defence mechanism against her own emotions. Maybe focussing on someone else's will help her break through it. This is the moment to lay all my cards on the table. I take a deep breath and decide to tell her everything.

'When the Cardassians destroyed my home world, and killed my people, I was angry. With the Cardassians, but also with Starfleet for not stopping them. I felt that the organisation and the values that I'd dedicated my life to had failed me. In that way, I lost not just my home and my family, but the future I'd envisioned for myself in Starfleet. I felt like I could no longer continue the life I'd build, nor could I return to the life I'd left behind. So I turned to the Maquis. To get revenge. I didn't care if it got me killed, because I couldn't see a life for myself anyway.' I have to pause for a moment. It's not easy to return to those days, even in my memory. But Kathryn's eyes are full of compassion, showing me that I'm doing something right. So I take another deep breath and continue.

'I'd been on quite a few missions, but when I met you, that was the first time we were fighting not for vengeance, but to help someone. At least it was for me. Many of the Maquis fight to protect the colonies, but mine was already destroyed. I thought there was nothing left to save. And then I met you. I rescued you, like I couldn't rescue my family. It wasn't too late for you. I wasn't too late for you. You were my redemption, Kathryn. And in that way, you saved me. And you continued to save me. By demanding my help. By showing determination, and optimism, and hope. All the things I thought I'd lost. You made me realise I still had those things too, I'd just locked them away. And when I found out you were Starfleet, I began to realise that the values I'd recognised and admired in you were the values that drew me to Starfleet. I might have turned my back on it, but in my heart I still believed in those values. And I wasn't alone. You saved me from myself, Kathryn.'

By now, tears are freely rolling down her face. I wipe them away when they reach my hands, both of which are now cradling her head, but they keep pouring down. I suspect this might be the first time she's cried since the death of her father. These tears are for far more than my confession, they're everything she's held in for too long. Her words confirm it.

'My father was all those things; determined, optimistic. He always saw the best in people and encouraged them to live up to that potential. When I was little, I used to hide beneath his desk, listening to him work and trying to solve whatever task he'd set me. Memorising the multiplication tables, figuring out my next chess move. I wanted to be just like him.'

'Sounds like you are. You brought out the best in me.' My words bring on another round of weeping. I'm glad. She needs to let all this out. After a few moments, she mumbles something that I don't quite catch, so I ask her 'what?'

'I should have been there,' she says again, in between big gulps of air. 'I should have saved him.'

This I recognize, the guild of not being there, of having let this happen to a loved one. It will paralyse her again, if I let it. So I lift her chin up, so I can look her in the eye.

'How? What could you have done?' She tries to shy away, but I won't let her. I ask her again, 'what could you have done?'

After a few moments of internal struggle, her chin comes up on its own and she glares at me defiantly. The fire in her eyes is so far removed from her earlier numbness that I almost praise the spirits I've never believed in before. 'I don't know. But I should have been there with him, I should have tried.'

'And died with him? He wouldn't have wanted that. Besides weren't you still on leave?' After her ordeal with the Maquis… 'You couldn't have known this would happen. It's not your fault, Kathryn.'

For a moment I think she'll argue further, but then she deflates, as her stubbornness evaporates. For a moment I'm afraid I overdid it and she'll revert to an emotionlessness state, but tears form anew in her eyes. She fights them though, unwilling to let them fall, glancing up for strength. It's such a beautiful demonstration of emotion and fortitude that I can't contain a smile. She notices and for a moment she looks at me quizzically, but then she seems to understand, because she smiles back at me. A beautiful tear-filled smile that threatens to take my breath away.

'Thank you,' she whispers, as her hand moves to caress my face and then falls down to rest on my chest just above my heart. 'For caring enough to come here.'

Her touch sends fire shooting through me. The desire to kiss her is almost overwhelming and I'm suddenly very aware that we're sitting on her bed. But I temper my feelings, reminding myself that she's been through hell and this is no time to jump into bed. I glance down, afraid she'll read the desire in my eyes. When I glance back up, she's still smiling at me. I manage to whisper, 'always.'

Is it me or has her smile turned decidedly lopsided, with a wicked glint? Before I can question it she leans in and for a moment I think she's about to kiss me, but she ends up kissing my cheek. I'm not sure how to react to that. Is that a thank-you? A gentle let-down? Her smile is still warm and her hand is still resting on my chest, so I decide to take it as a good thing. No, she removes her hand. But only to rest her head there and snuggle into my chest. I hear her whisper 'thank you, Chakotay,' again as my arms close around her.

It's amazingly satisfying, to hold her like this. Somehow lighter. It takes me a few minutes to realise that for the first time since I heard of the destruction of Dorvan, I feel at peace. The realisation releases such a wave of gratitude that I can't stop myself from kissing her head, just a feather light kiss. I wait, wondering if she'll pull away, but she only holds me tighter.

As wonderful as this is, I know it can't last. 'I can't stay long. We have to be out of the Earth's atmosphere before morning.' Actually, B'Elanna threatened to leave me behind if I didn't beam back before 4 A.M., so we have less than four hours. I don't know how much of that has already passed.

She moves out of my arms and I'm sorry to let her go. 'I understand. What time do you have to leave?'

'I have to be gone by four.'

Without missing a beat, Kathryn instructs the computer to sound an alarm at 3:45. 'There, that should do it.' Then she turns her gaze back to me. But only for a moment, before her eyes drift away. She seems almost shy.

I hope she doesn't feel awkward about our hug, now that the intimacy of the moment has passed. I don't want her to feel regret for getting some of the comfort she so desperately needed. Careful to touch her as lightly as possible, I gently place one finger under her chin to raise her eyes to mine again. 'What is it?' I ask.

It takes her another moment to answer, but then she asks, as nervous as a teenage girl, 'Will you hold me until you have to leave? It felt so safe…'

'Of course,' I answer her with a smile. However, instead of pulling her towards me like before, I turn her on her side and gently coax her down before laying down behind her, boots and all. Judging by her fast reaction time, I don't think she was asleep when I came in and it's been quite an emotionally draining night for both of us. Not to mention how little real sleep she's probably had in the past weeks. I hope that held like this, she'll be able to rest. For a few moments she's tense, but then she relaxes against me. It isn't long before her breathing evens out into the quiet rhythm of sleep. I lay awake a little longer, thinking about the strange turns this night has taken and wondering if she'll be all right if I leave this morning. Not that I have much of a choice. I won't do her any good by lingering and getting arrested. Her quiet breathing and warmth lulls me to sleep before I can worry about it too much.

When the alarm sounds a few hours later, Kathryn doesn't so much as stir, confirming my suspicions about her recent sleeping patterns. I decide not to wake her and quietly contact B'Elanna and ask her to transport me back to our vessel. Before I leaves, however, I find a padd on her bedside table and leave a message for Kathryn. It seems silly after all I've said to her tonight, but I suddenly can't find the right words. In the darkness, alone with my thoughts, everything I type sounds stupid. I'm running out of time, so in the end the message I leave is short. Just a code, the communication frequency for a secure comm. address I asked B´Elanna to set up for me, just in case.

After another moment of hesitation, I end with ´Love, C´.

Next to the padd, I place the wooden lizard figurine I carved while thinking of her. Then I beam away.

It's several hours later when Kathryn is abruptly awoken by a flood of cold water, courtesy of her sister Phoebe, who drags her away to breakfast. It takes a few more hours for Kathryn to return and find the padd, finally confirming what she'd hoped all morning. Chakotay was here.

The End, but…

To Be Continued in the Meaning of Peace