He sped back to his quarters, burying any concern over his own well-being. He would push through the pain and the dizziness. Kathryn needed him to.
He sat in his quarters for a few minutes trying to come up with ideas on how he could not only find Kathryn but bring her back. He needed a solid plan if any of this was to work. After B'Elanna commed to give him a lecture about not taking care of himself, he begrudgingly agreed to get something in his stomach and drink a bit of water. It had helped to clear his head and ward off the dizzy spells.
It took him less than an hour to fully formulate a plan. He was dressed and back in Sickbay just in time to witness Kathryn's body helplessly seizing and her heart fighting a desperate battle to keep beating. He turned away as the doctor and Tom Paris worked hard to help her. He couldn't bring himself to watch her suffering.
After the doctor managed to stabilize her, Chakotay sat on the floor next to her biobed. He opened his medicine bundle, shut his eyes, and began his chant.
His eyelids peeled open slowly, absorbing his surroundings. This wasn't right. The ground was black and grey, thick with ash. Smoke billowed from an unknown location, it surrounded him, it was nearly suffocating. A few moments later the smoke grew thin enough for him to see a bit ahead of him. The once luscious forest was now a charred graveyard where blackened poles acted as tombstones for the abundance of life; burned away like it was nothing. This had been his sanctuary, his place of prayer. There was an indescribable pain within him, seeing it in ruins.
"Father?" he called out, but no response.
He looked around, in all directions but he could barely see, he had no idea where to go.
"Spirits if ever there was a time for your guidance it would be now, please help me," he whispered.
A soft wind gently blew more of the smoke away, showing just beyond the first few rows of charred trees, the door. It was the one he had seen when he first escaped his own 'nightmare', the door that had led him to Kathryn. He ran to it, a silent prayer of thanks echoed in his mind.
He immediately went to open the door but jumped back as he felt the skin on his hands melting off. He cried out in agony. The skin on his hand nearly vanished and in its place was charred remnants surrounded by blistered flesh. He took harsh gulps and slowed it into deep breaths. He had to keep going. He took off his uniform jacket and covered his hands with it, pushing the door open and rushing through.
The second he was over the threshold, a booming voice echoed "You couldn't stay away could you?"
"Mara."
He gritted his teeth in anger, carelessly tossing his jacket to the floor.
"I should have known you'd be an excellent kisser but whew you are skilled. And all I had to do was wear that uncomfortable uniform, put my hair in a ridiculous bun and speak a bit lower. You were putty in my hands. It's a shame I wasn't able to explore your other...talents but I highly doubt you're lacking in that department either," she laughed, her voice fading away.
"Enough of these games, Mara. Show yourself!"
He felt hands wrap around his chest from behind in a seductive motion, and he jumped away.
"Oh come on don't be shy," she said with a giggle.
She was back to the form he had first encountered. Glowing green eyes, dark brown hair that reached just past her shoulders, and she looked no more than twenty-five.
"Where is Kathryn?" he asked.
"Oh Kathryn, Kathryn, Kathryn….what do you see in her anyway?"
"Where is she?" He deepened his tone, losing what little patience he still had.
Suddenly her features shifted and her clothes changed. Before him, stood an exact image of the woman he knew and loved.
"She's right here... I can be anyone you want me to be, I can do anything you want me to do."
She walked over to him and tried to touch his cheek but he slapped her hand away.
"Fine. If you insist." She morphed back into the young woman and waved her hand. In an instant, their surroundings changed and he looked around to find himself in a dark cell. The concrete walls were cold and damp, the floor was just dirt. He glanced to the corner of the room where a small huddled form was shaking, her legs drawn to her chest.
He moved past Mara and ran to the woman's side. When his hand met the skin of her arm, she jumped shielding her face and whimpering.
"Kathryn?" he whispered gently, his thumb pushing back the matted hair from her face.
Before Kathryn opened her eyes Mara snapped her fingers and they were back on the ship where he first was.
"Ok, now you've seen her," Mara said.
"Why is she in there? Why isn't she out here, reenacting her worst day as you wanted," he did his best to calm his anger, he knew Mara didn't respond to his outburst with anything other than laughter.
"She's grown a bit more difficult to control since you left." Her face took on a bitter expression.
He felt a small beam of hope at the thought that Kathryn might remember, and be fighting her hardest to get out.
"What if I offer you a trade. My life for hers," he said.
She shook her head with a crooked smile.
"As much as I'm tempted I must decline your offer."
"There must be some deal or exchange you're willing to make," he pleaded.
Her eyes squinted and her features took on a contemplative expression. In a single second, it shifted into a look of devious delight.
"You want your beloved Kathryn back so bad...fine, but you'll have to find her first." She waved her hand and suddenly he was back in the hospital where he had to tell a young Kathryn about the loss of her loved ones. He stood in the corridor, one without an end or a beginning, only doors leading to unknown places.
"You'll have one hour. Face your past, make peace with it, and find the girl before time is up, or else you both remain trapped here... forever." Her eyes glowed like fireflies on a dark summer night, and with a gust of wind, she was gone.
"Wait!" he shouted.
"Good luck." Her whisper bounced off the walls, bringing his fear to the front of his mind so forcefully it was almost tangible. He cleared his head and replaced every bad thought with one objective, finding Kathryn. His hour had begun.
He stared down the seemingly endless hallway.
Above each door was a set of numbers. Last time the numbers above the door represented Kathryn's birthday, this time they looked like stardates. 48307.5: the date that Voyager lost contact with Starfleet. He pushed the door open and hesitantly walked through.
Looking around he realized that he was aboard Voyager, in his temporary quarters from when he first boarded the ship.
"Chakotay, I was starting to wonder where you'd gone. Ugh, don't tell me that bitch already has you trained and castrated," a familiar voice sent chills down his spine.
He felt a pair of hands try to pull his undershirt out from his pants. He gently pushed the hands away.
"I bet you're dying to get out of that sad excuse for a uniform...and I'm more than willing to help."
"Seska." Simply saying her name left a bitter taste in his mouth.
He turned to run back out the door but it wasn't there. He looked around, trapped.
She walked over to him and tried to kiss him, but he pushed her back.
"What's the matter?" she asked innocently.
Nausea and nervousness had abandoned him and were replaced with the remnants of anger that still somehow resided in him.
She tried to approach him once more but he backed away.
"You didn't mind when I kissed you this morning. If I'm not mistaken I'd go as far as to say you were looking forward to more."
"That was before I knew you to be a Cardassian traitor." His eyes burned into hers.
"What are you talking about?" she scoffed.
"I don't have time for these games, Seska." He scanned the room for some means of escape but, looking to where the door to the quarters used to be, there was only a wall.
"What games, Chakotay?" She continued to stare at him, not letting any hint of nervousness or guilt show.
"You were never working for me. You were sent on a mission to infiltrate the Maquis, to be a part of my crew. You were instructed to get close to me, to learn my secrets, my plans for battle. Tell me, have I missed anything?"
He had to admit to himself that the look of slight shock on her face had been somewhat enjoyable to witness, even if it only lasted a second.
"Who told you that? Whoever it was, they must be lying to you...trying to divide us, break up the Maquis, turn us on one another! We can't let them!"
"No one told me. No one had to tell me!" he shouted in frustration.
She paused and looked at him, and he saw a flash in her eyes as her decency was placed on the back burner. Front and center stood a cold, uncaring, merciless shell of a woman.
"Well then how the hell did you figure it out?" her tone had rid itself of any niceties. Her arms crossed firmly and she paced, never taking her eyes off of his.
"That's not important," he said.
She snickered and shook her head.
"I've been on your ship for almost four years, in your bed for almost two. After all this time you're trying to tell me you've just pieced it together? No, Janeway must've known, maybe Tuvok...I never trusted that Vulcan. I'll be needing to know how exactly you found out about who I work for. It would be best if you comply, no need for anyone to get hurt."
He scoffed.
"I told you. Tuvok didn't know, Kathryn didn't either." his brain was frazzled, and the longer he stood arguing with Seska, the less time he had to find the woman he actually loved.
"Kathryn? Since when are you on a first-name basis with that Starfleet whore?"
"What?"
"Don't play dumb, Chakotay. You just referred to Captain Janeway as Kathryn. Something is going on that I'm not aware of...and I don't like it."
She pulled out her weapon and aimed it directly at him.
"I was trained to recognize when a person's usefulness no longer outweighs the liability they pose. I think I just lost what little use I had for you. It really is a pity, I was hoping we could have a bit more fun." she smirked.
He quickly glanced around, looking for something to use to fight back. Before she could react, he grabbed the decorative bowl off of the coffee table and smashed it over her head.
She fell to the ground and the phaser landed on the other side of the room. He immediately lunged for it and stood, pointing it at her as she stood up, blood dripping from the gash on her forehead.
She chuckled wryly.
"I don't think you have it in you to pull the trigger. You would have done it by now if you did. I know you Chakotay, I know how deeply you feel for me. And despite everything, I do care for you."
"You're right. I did care for you...very much, but I don't think those feelings were ever returned. I think your heart was locked up and set aside long ago. I just was too blind to see that. After finding real love, love that changed me in ways that I can't even explain, I see what I had with you for what it really was. I was using you to fill a void in my life that you could never fill. You knew that you took advantage of that. We both had causes to fight for, we both have done horrible things in the names of those causes, and I need to learn to put your betrayal behind me."
"And killing me will solve this problem? Come on Chakotay, I know you. You're not one to kill unless there are no other options. I'm giving you another option. Put the phaser down, and we can both pretend like this never happened. I'll be good I promise," she said.
He looked into her eyes and remembered that for all of the awful times there had been some not-so-awful times. He looked down at the weapon in his hands and disabled it, placing it gently on the floor next to him.
As he did so, the hospital door reappeared, drawing his attention for a few moments. This distraction gave Seska just enough time to roll over to the phaser and pick it up. He ran to the door as she reenabled the weapon.
He went through to the other side, but not before she fired a shot that hit him directly in the shoulder. Searing pain tore through him. He slammed the door closed before she could fire again and looked around the hallway. It had grown considerably smaller. He could almost see an end to it.
He looked toward the next door. Stardate: 45536.5. He recognized the date as being important but couldn't remember the exact reason. Without waiting another second he went in. He was met with the image of his home planet. The screams could be heard for miles. Cardassian ships hovered overhead, firing weapons, destroying crops and homes, murdering innocent lives. He could smell the scent of burnt flesh, it mixed and mingled with the scent of burning trees which were still blanketed in a sea of fire. His stomach turned as he shut his eyes and tried to keep the tears back, tried to block out all the horrifying noises that forced their way into his ears.
Face your past, make peace with it, and find the girl before time is up, or else you both remain trapped here... forever.
Mara's words echoed in his brain. How the hell was he supposed to make peace with this? He was standing in the middle of his home as it was being torn apart, raped, and burned to ash. He remembered the feelings that rose to the surface when he had gotten word of what had happened here. For most of his life, images in his head were always worse than the reality of a given situation, but in this case, he knew his mind wasn't dark enough to conjure up images of what really occurred. The only way to make peace with this event in his past was to do what he should have done then, be present, and fight for his people.
He balled his hands into fists, feeling the pain from his burn, mixed with the pain in his shoulder. He channeled that pain using it to fuel his anger. On the ground near what once was a home, he found a bloodied hunting knife. He saw no up to date weaponry except for in the hands of his enemies.
Hearing a bone-chilling scream, he ran towards it. There was a mother huddled against a tool shed, her body protecting her two small children. Cardassian soldiers approached them with sickening smirks of amusement, their weapons raised and aimed.
Chakotay wasted no time in pouncing on one of the soldiers and plunging the knife into his throat. He quickly turned to use the dead man's body as a shield from the blasts.
Holding the body up, he approached the other soldier and tossed the corpse onto him, throwing him off for just enough time. Chakotay tackled the man. They rolled around, punches thrown. The Cardassian gained the upper hand and had him pinned to the ground, one punch after another until his ears were ringing and he could feel blood pooling in his mouth. Looking to his left with an eye that was already beginning to swell shut, he saw the knife, just barely out of his grasp.
His enemy clenched Chakotay's throat so hard he could feel the life draining from his body. He stretched his arm as far as it would go, his fingertips finally reaching the blade of the knife. He grabbed it and without hesitation, plunged it into the Cardassian's chest. His heart rate quickened as he felt his enemy's slow. His vision blurred for a moment, and that ringing in his ears came back as the corpse draped over him. He pushed himself free and forced his breathing to calm.
He looked up, the blood of the men he killed coated him, it blended with his own. It was on his hands, in his hair, dripping down his cheek. He felt it, warm, wet. The metallic scent was abrasive in his nostrils. The drop from his cheek fell to the corner of his mouth and he immediately felt his stomach turn at the taste. He spit out to the side and looked down. His hands had been dirtied by the merciless ways of war many times before. He had taken lives but never were they innocent, and there had always been a reason.
He reminded himself that this wasn't real. He needn't justify the deaths of two fictitious villains, but for those few moments, it was difficult to discern reality from illusion.
Suddenly he looked up and saw the mother and her two children. He'd saved them. It was then that he realized that he wished this was what had happened. That live or die he had wanted to be where he stood right then, fighting for his people, protecting them. But he chose not to be. Deep down he knew it wasn't his fault. Although it didn't lessen the guilt, he knew that after admitting that, acceptance would come and perhaps one day, absolution.
Behind him, the door reappeared. He stood up and took one last look at the planet he knew as home. He felt a tear combine with the streaks of slowly drying blood.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, and then he left.
As he entered the hallway he noticed that it had shortened in length yet again. He could see there was an end to it. He walked down a bit to the next door. Stardate: 45601.97. He knew this day.
Stepping inside he was back in his childhood home. Everything was just as he remembered. Handmade blankets were flat on the floor with pillows he and his mother had made themselves. A few books rested on the shelves that he and his father had built together, the first carpentry project Chakotay had finished. In the kitchen, he heard someone stifling their tears.
He walked into the next room and saw her standing there with her back facing him. Her long black hair flowed freely, strands of gray heavily spread throughout. He'd missed her.
"Mother," he said wearily.
Startled by the sound of his voice, she quickly wiped away her tears and turned to him with a loving smile.
"My son," she whispered.
She walked over and took him in her arms, her warmth and comfort instantly took him back to a different time, one he had longed to return to.
"When I sent you the message, I wasn't sure you would come. I'm so glad you're here." She cupped his face with both hands and pulled him down so she could reach his forehead with her lips for a gentle peck.
He looked at his clothes, his hands, he grazed his fingertips over his eyes. Any sign of injury or battle that he had were now gone.
He released a shuttered breath and embraced his mother in another hug, holding on for dear life.
"I've missed you," he said sincerely.
"Brother?" he heard from behind him.
"Sekaya!" he broke the embrace with his mother and took his sister in his arms.
She stiffened in his arms, pushing him away gently.
"You told me you weren't coming, that Starfleet wouldn't let you leave." She spoke with a slightly harsher tone than he remembered.
Before he could respond, his mother interrupted.
"The ceremony is about to start, we should start walking."
"Of course, mother," Sekaya replied.
Chakotay followed them outside. He remembered the events of this day, but not like this.
In reality, he had told his sister that leaving the academy was impossible at the time, but that was a lie. He had been permitted to go home, everyone would have understood. But he couldn't gain the courage. He'd made the arrangements, boarded the shuttle, even landed and walked to his childhood home, but before he could be seen, he turned around.
That night he had wandered into an empty bar, and with a little liquid courage, he stopped by a local tattoo artist. He couldn't go to the funeral, he didn't have it in him to face his failure to his people, his family. So instead, he honored his father in that way, bearing his symbol, carrying a piece of him, a piece of their ancestors. That same night he had sent a letter of resignation to Starfleet. In the darkness he walked alone, the pale moon's glow guiding his feet to the resting place of the man he had let down. Anger filled the very depths of his being until he collapsed on the freshly turned mound of dirt, beat his hands over it, and cried for the first time since receiving the news of his father's death.
This, here and now, this was different. He walked alongside his mother and sister, their tribe followed close behind. Once they reached the top of the hill, he saw the body, lifeless, so still, almost peaceful. His jaw tightened as they opened the buttons on his father's shirt, to cleanse the skin and prepare him for burial. His eyes could not leave that wound on his father's chest. A phaser-like burn tore a hole through him, almost directly over his heart. There were tears, stifled sobs from his mother. They gathered goods, food, and things he may need on his journey into the next life. He was placed in a hand-carved wooden box and lowered carefully into the ground. As the service was coming to an end, he could no longer hold back his cries, soft and hushed.
"You have no right to cry," Sekaya said.
Her eyes were like daggers, her words stabbed through him, but he chose not to engage with her. It would only lead to more pain.
"This is all your fault! You should have been here! You should have fought with him, been by his side. He might still be alive if you had been man enough to defend your people!" she went to lunge at him but Tananka held her daughter back.
"That's enough, Sekaya!" She shouted.
"No, she's right. It is my fault. I should have been there," his voice cracked under the weight of his emotion.
His mother calmed Sekaya down and walked over to him, placing a gentle hand on his arm.
"Your sister is just upset, she didn't mean those things that she said. Your father was so proud to call you his son. He loved you and he knew you loved him."
His tears streamed down his cheeks as she pulled him into a hug. His sobs grew harsh and shook his body, his breathing was uneven. Those words, yelled at him, were ones he had tortured himself with. It had been his fault, he wasn't there when he should have been when everyone needed him to be. There had been no man greater than his father. Kolopack had been a leader, a fighter, a father.
"Shhhhh. It's okay," she whispered, stroking his back.
He focused on his mother's arms, encircling him, holding him so close that he could feel her heart beating against him. The steady rhythm guided his breathing. He calmed down for a moment and pulled away. Her soft hands wiped away his tears, her loving smile shined at him like a beacon in the darkness.
"I wish it had been me," he whispered with regret.
She pulled away and took his face in her hands.
"Don't ever say that. That's not what anyone would have wanted, especially your father. He fought for you, for your sister, he fought for a future! That future rests with you! None of this was your fault. Do not waste your life on 'what if's' and do not blame yourself for the things you cannot change. Your father is right here...always."
She placed the palm of her hand over his heart.
"Why don't you go to the house and make us all some tea? Your sister and I will take the long way home, I need to talk to her for a little bit," she suggested.
He nodded. As he turned, his eyes caught Sekaya's. He could see how her expression had softened, from one of anger to one of remorse. She kept staring at him, a silent apology in her gaze filled with unshed tears.
He nodded at his sister and began to walk the path back home.
He watched his feet kick up clouds of dust in the dry dirt of the beaten path. He knew now that he could see his father anytime he wanted, all he had to do was enter a vision quest. It still wasn't the same. He couldn't watch him carve wood like he used to. He wouldn't hear the laughter of his parents in the kitchen, lovingly preparing for dinner. It wasn't the same, it hadn't been for a long time, and it never would be again.
But he played his mother's words over and over again in his head. It wasn't his fault, he needed to stop blaming himself for the things he could not change, things he never had the power to change in the first place. Seska had been a trained spy, her betrayal could not be blamed on him. He had trusted her and was wrong in doing so but he wouldn't let that ruin his trust in others. His homeworld had been demolished, he wasn't there to help defend it. He did what he thought was best at the time, he followed what he felt was his calling; Starfleet. Being there to fight would not have made much of a difference, he might have died, might not have been around when he was to save countless others when he did. Everything happens for a reason, words his father always instilled in him.
His father's death may or may not have been prevented if he had been there, but it was a waste of time to focus on the what-ifs. It was a waste of the life his father died protecting.
As he came upon his home, he stopped. The front door he recognized had been replaced with that of a solid white door with a silver handle. Kathryn. She was still out there, still waiting for him. He ran towards the door and walked through.
Entering the hallway once more, a voice, deep like thunder, echoed in the silence.
"Ten minutes," it said.
The floor beneath his feet began to crack, tile by tile it was dropping away, crumbling into the dark abyss. He ran from the damaged part of the hall and kept running. Each of the doors disappeared one by one until only a single door was left. No stardate, no markings.
"Kathryn?" he called as he hesitantly cracked the door open.
"Chakotay?" he heard a voice reply.
He opened the door fully as his eyes tried to process the image before him. Instantly, he felt his heart drop out of his chest.