The graceful curtain of stars, planets and nebulas spread out across the Astrometrics view screen, beautiful in that desolate lonely way a deep sea or a sun drenched desert was beautiful but really this Alpha Quadrant space was no more or less spectacular than the Delta Quadrant space they'd left the day before and yet it was supposedly special but he was no longer sure why it should so be so special to him. At least he knew that all around him, beyond the two Starfleet vessels that flanked Voyager's hull like bodyguards, the entire universe was teeming with life…
"Chakotay, what are you doing in here?" He didn't even bother to turn to face the familiar voice, although he was more than a little surprised that she had come in here, like everyone else, excluding himself and Icheb, she avoided the place like the plague. He could explain to her that the opposite was true for him, that stepping in here was like collapsing into a warm embrace, a place he could retreat to and relieve somewhat the pressure cooker of emotions that frequently built up in his brain.
He didn't say that of course, after twenty three years he knew what she could and could not understand, and that fell firmly into the latter category. "Just thinking, Captain."
He thought he heard a soft "ahh" and he turned to see her leave her place just over the threshold and come to join him at the console, but not without a visible shudder. His mother would have said that someone had walked over her grave, but he felt it was more to do with Seven and she didn't have a grave, well, this place was a monument of sorts, the only one she would ever have, except perhaps his heart. He drew back from those memories with painful regret, but he knew from experience that they would return, it was like being a moth, burned by the flame but always wanting to get closer. "About home?" Her smiled question pulled him out of his thoughts. Home? What did that mean anyway? He nodded deliberately, hoping that would satisfy her. It did. "We've just passed Betazed; we should be back on Earth within four days."
"We could make that distance in three." He commented passively.
"Tom doesn't want to push the engines too hard after that trip through the wormhole and anyway Starfleet has to prepare for our arrival."
What had happened to this crew? At one time Tom would have pushed the ship to warp threshold to get Voyager home a millisecond faster and now they were travelling sedately through space as if they'd only taken a short vacation and not been lost in uncharted territory for twenty three years! If Seven was watching this her eyebrows would be raised in incredulous disbelief, a brief smile passed across his face at the thought but it faded almost as soon as it had come. "Don't be too disappointed, we've been waiting long enough." Said the Captain jokingly but with a bitter shadow in her eyes.
He looked at her for a moment, how could she misread him so completely? The point was he wasn't disappointed, as a matter of a fact he felt completely indifferent to the whole situation. He forgave her, wrapped up in her own excitement as she was, looking ready to clap her hands like a young girl. "What did you really come to tell me Kathryn? You look ready to burst." He said with gentle knowing.
"Well, I've been promoted to Admiral! Everyone's guaranteed promotions in fact, and medals of valour are going to be handed out, the former Maquis are completely pardoned of course…" She went on but he only half listened. Part of him wanted to share her enthusiasm, her pride, but overall he couldn't help but gather a pathetic impression. Would a promotion really settle her destructively restless sprit, fulfil her or any of them after more than two decades of investing heart and soul into this journey? He doubted it. "What are you thinking of doing?" she asked suddenly out of the blue.
"Anything's possible now I suppose." He responded sincerely.
"Yes it is." She replied softly, looking down at her hands resting lightly on the console before bringing her eyes up to meet his. "Look…I know it's been hard over the last few years…" Thirteen years Kathryn, you may as well say it, you observe anniversaries as much as I do. "…but it'll get better…I know it will." She looked at him with that familiar expression, the one he'd seen directed at Seven in the past and now at him, the one which asked for emotion. What exactly did she want? He was, as Seven would have said perfectly functional. He worked harder than ever, he hadn't disrupted the crew in any way with his grief, hadn't descended into alcoholism, his old dependence on anti-depressants and sleeping pills had lessened its grip to such an extent over the years that it now only reared its head very occasionally. No, he was fine, carried his burdens as well as could be expected.
"Don't worry, I'm sure it will be a new beginning…for us all." He told her calmly.
Her shoulders visibly relaxed and she stepped back. "Good…I think so too." With a quick glance at him she left and he leaned further into the console with a sigh, looking dreamily at the mixture of Borg and Federation controls before straightening and being caught again in the hypnotic power of this window into space. Sometimes he wished he could drift aimlessly among the stars and forget it all.
The shuttle jolted as it descended down between the lush green treetops of his home world. It was strange seeing it again but the sight didn't give him the shock of pleasure he had expected. "This part of the planet has been mostly abandoned by the Cardassians, but be vigilant. You…may not like what you see down there." He jumped at Icheb's voice, who spoke while expertly piloting the shuttle.
"Yeah, I know." He said quietly. It had been over thirty five years since he'd last been here after all; it was bound to have changed. The silence between them was uncomfortable, he knew that Icheb was breaking the rules for him; former colonists were not allowed to return here, even after the Maquis pardon. Changing the subject abruptly he asked, "How's Annika?"
Icheb beamed a rare wide smile; his daughter was the apple of his eye. "She's just started the first grade, the teachers had a bit of trouble with her though, she called arts and crafts irrelevant."
"Her namesake would be proud." Said Chakotay with a soft laugh.
"Yes…" Icheb replied with quiet sadness as the shuttle hit the ground, as he opened the doors he cautiously said, "All our former crewmates are asking for you, the ten year anniversary party…"
"Is not for six months. I'll think about it nearer the time." Chakotay replied distractedly as he lifted his small bag and began to climb through the door.
"Admiral Janeway worries about you, Tom and B'Elanna too…"
Chakotay let his feet hit the spongy moss covered ground. "I know." He said with a slightly regretful sigh before suddenly turning to look back at Icheb with an unnervingly steady gaze. "She'd be so proud of you, you know that don't you?"
Icheb swallowed hard, he of course knew which she he was referring to though it seemed a strange time to converse about her. "It is an achievement for a former Borg to be made a Starfleet captain…"
Chakotay gave a small smile. "I wasn't referring to that specifically, you've worked hard at life and it has rewarded you."
Icheb, never good with compliments, bowed his head respectfully but couldn't form words of thanks instead changing the subject entirely. "I will collect you here at 1700 hours." Chakotay nodded and set the alarm on his watch to remind him to give himself plenty of time to walk back, just past his seventy fourth birthday, his memory wasn't what it once was.
The sight before him captivated him to such an extent that he didn't really pay attention to the shuttle lifting off and disappearing into the clouds. Obviously his directions to Icheb had been accurate; this was the clearing just on the outskirts of his home settlement. The old sports goalposts were still standing, albeit bent and rusted, vines and undergrowth almost entirely obscuring them from sight. With a shake of his head he set off down the dirt track he knew by heart, allowing the dust his feet kicked up to nostalgically filter through his nostrils. In several parts nature had reclaimed the track, leaving it little more than forest, images of the townspeople meticulously chopping away at the roadsides, keeping it clear and smart, floated through his head. Those days were long gone, branches traitorously brushed against the track, weeds cruelly showed their overwhelming presence, his father had been right all along everything belonged to nature, everything it lent it eventually took back.
He was surprised at his lack of emotion as he entered the settlement, the homes that had been abandoned during the Cardassian onslaught still stood, striped of everything useful and lying in a state of slow disintegration. Why didn't he feel anything? True, he'd always wanted to leave this place for somewhere more civilised and exciting, but he'd fought for the place hadn't he? He'd lost people, risked his own life and what had it all been for? All that struggle and pain for a planet, for something that didn't even matter…
The route of his own thoughts disturbed him deeply and he ran ahead blindly, only stopping when he tripped and looked at what he'd fallen over. Pavestones, his citified mother's pride, the ones he and his father had spent almost two weeks laying. Broken, weed ridden and dishevelled, was that all that was left? No, there it was, a blacked shell, the charred remains of his childhood home exactly where he left them after fleeing the Cardassians, grieving for his father and nursing revenge. He stood up and looked around, his eyes scanning for the gravestones he knew he wouldn't find. He been kidding himself in thinking he would find peace here, didn't he know by now that home was not a place but a feeling? An idea that had been lazily drifting through his mind for years suddenly solidified and became a decision. He knew what he had to do.
His fingers excitedly dialled in the code, the doors slid open and he stepped in, he felt nothing. It was dark and cold, lifeless. Even the consoles, once constantly bright with activity, were dead, trapped behind the impenetrable layer of protective glass museums seemed so fond of. Not that Seven would have approved of spectators playing around in her lab anyway. Why did he still cling to that? She was gone and would never return here. He was alone, utterly alone. His hand tightened around the only object he had, his gaze travelling down to it nonchalantly. A Federation phaser, how fittingly ironic, he thought with a smile. As metal brushed his temple he stared at the view screen, perhaps the sight of space would give him a sense of perspective. No, it was deactivated, a black empty void in the wall. Abruptly a torrent of emotion, grief, rage, guilt, loneliness, happiness, relief… Everything came to him and then in a flash it was gone.
"The Voyager Museum is closed once again today to mark the funeral of the ship's former First Officer, who took his own life on Thursday within the lab built by his late wife who also died tragically some twenty three years to the day…" Kathryn Janeway seized the remote and abruptly ended the newscast in full flow, leaning heavily back in her chair as the room fell eerily silent. There was nothing I could have done, I never understood him, either of them…
The beep of the telephone interrupted her self consoling thoughts and she rose to get it, eager for the distraction. The famous features of Admiral Nechayev appeared on the screen. "Good Evening Kathryn, you have my condolences. I'm sorry I was unable to attend the funeral."
"Thank you Alyanna, but he was in a very dark lonely place." Said Janeway quietly. "You're still with the Klingons?"
"Yes, one in particular, he wants a Federation liaison but he's so minor, the others consider him a witch doctor, they say he built a time machine…"
Janeway's ears pricked. There was nothing she could do in this timeline… "I think I have your liaison officer."
"Really, who?" asked Nechayev in interest.
"Miral Paris. She's only an ensign as yet but…"
"The Ambassador's daughter? She could get a much more advantageous post…"
"I know her; she'd be perfect for it. She is part Klingon after all."
"Alright Kathryn, I accept your recommendation. Tell her to pack her Batlef."
Janeway laughed softly. "I will." After a few more pleasantries the conversation ended and she lay back with a satisfied sigh, to hell with the Temporal Prime Directive!
A/n: Please review. No hate mail please. I'm glad to get this story out of my system so I can go back to my normal C7 fluff (I only wrote this as a challenge to myself to try to write Tragedy). Thanks to: SweetDeath04, DestinChild, lisac1965, juliaw, LilRed87, AmaryllisBird and MidnightVampireCharlotte for all the support for such a sad story.