Twenty Seven
Live every day like it's your last, because some day you're going to be right.
Muhammad Ali
Screaming.
The sound rushed at him from oblivion, smashing into him like a freight train. He tried to move, tried to take a breath, but the darkness held him down, sucking at his arms, his legs. There was a weight on his chest, a huge weight, a dead weight. He was trapped. There was something in his mouth, over his face. He couldn't move.
And she was screaming.
Her face flashed at him from the dark. There was blood on her pale skin.
Gunshots.
Blood.
Kathryn.
Kathryn, Kathryn, Kathryn, Kathryn-
Chakotay fought, thrashing against the darkness and against the pressure on his chest but he couldn't get to her, he couldn't even move his arms, he couldn't-
More sounds faded in, replacing her screams. Closer, somehow. There was an alarm going off, fast, high pitched, piercing, repeating over and over-
"It's all right," a voice was saying. "Chakotay, it's all right, you're all right, don't-"
The oblivion let go its grip. It's tentacles slipped away. His blindness became tangible instead – there was something over his eyes. He tried to lift an arm to remove it, but something held him back, pushing his arm back down. Something warm, this time. Hands on his skin, warm. Alive.
Kathryn?
The alarm wailed and wailed.
"It's all right," the voice said again. "Chakotay, please. It's all right. You're all right. Don't move. Don't-" the voice rose, an edge of panic gripping it. "Nurse? Doctor? Someone!"
Not Kathryn.
Where is she?
Blood on her face.
Screaming.
WHERE IS SHE?
He fought again, trying to move.
There was the sound of running feet. More hands on him, more voices, too many to single out.
The alarm cut off.
Kathryn, he tried to say, but the thing over his face was still there. He tried anyway. Help Kathryn, please-
Oblivion faded back in. Its tentacles slipped out of the darkness undulating around him. They wound around his legs, his arms, his neck. They pulled him down, down, down.
Kath-
The second time Chakotay came round, there was nothing on his face. He opened his eyes into a dimmed room, staring at a ceiling he didn't recognise. He looked at it for a while. It was white, segmented into oblong tiles, the seams between them its only feature. There was a beeping noise coming from somewhere. He became aware of a machine not far from his shoulder. He angled his head toward it. A black screen showed a gamut of colours moving in lines from left to right. He blinked, slowly registering other machines too. A stand with a pouch of fluid hanging from it.
Hospital.
He felt detached from reality, his mind foggy. He dipped his chin and looked down his body.
What happened? He had no memory, except-
Screaming.
Blood on her face-
"Kathryn," he gasped, gripping the edge of the bed and trying to lever himself up. The lines on the screen beside him squiggled crazily. A machine began to beep faster.
"Chakotay!"
A figure he hadn't realised was there moved beside him. A face came into view, large blue eyes beneath blonde hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. Chakotay recognised her instantly, but the knowledge confused him.
"Annika?" His voice was hoarse and barely there.
She smiled around a small bubble of strangled noise that might have been laughter. There were tears in her eyes. "Yes," she said. "You're awake. Oh God, you're awake."
He looked past her, trying to move again. "I don't-"
Annika put her hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him back down against the pillows. "Don't move. You've been shot."
He lay back, defeated, still confused. "Shot?"
She nodded, the tears running down her cheeks. "You're lucky to be alive."
He tried to work this out, and then-
Screaming.
Blood on her face-
He struggled up again, fighting against the weight on his chest, against the sheets over him and the fog in his mind. "Kathryn! Where is she?"
Annika pushed him down again, frowning a little. "Kathryn Janeway?"
"She's hurt," he rasped. "She was there, she-"
"No," Annika told him, looking over her shoulder towards the door. "No, Chakotay. She's fine."
"But-"
"She wasn't hurt. She was with you, but she wasn't hurt. It's all right. Just rest. Try not to move. I'll get a doctor. OK?"
He swallowed. His mouth was dry. His throat was sore. He kept hearing her screaming.
"Kathryn –"
"She's all right. I promise."
"But she – where is she? She was screaming. There was – blood."
Annika rested one hand on his shoulder. "I'll call her. OK? I'll call her. Please just don't move."
[TBC]