Murnan
By Coral
Main Story
Index ~ J/C
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Murnan: Germanic: To Remember Sorrowfully
The first item he pulled out of the box was a small sand painting.
-{@}-{@}-
The sun shone down through the trees around us, creating dancing shafts
of sunlight. "Sunbeams to Heaven," Kathryn laughingly termed them
as we pushed through the undergrowth, going where no human - that we knew
of - had ever gone before. These woods had lain invitingly behind
our small house for the past weeks, beckoning to the explorer in both of
us. Finally Kathryn had succumbed to her instinctive drive to broaden
her horizons, and so we found ourselves trekking through years - decades,
centuries, who knew? - of undergrowth.
Armed with only light provisions, a torch, tricorder and phaser in
case the need arose, we were travelling at a moderate pace. Fast
enough to cover ground, yet slow enough to smell the roses - or scan them,
in Kathryn's case. She was still nursing a hope that she could find
a cure, despite the destruction of most of her traps and a lot of equipment
in the storm two nights prior.
But while Kathryn seemed to be completely occupied with the new flora,
I was watching her, my mind replaying the events of the previous evening.
Had there been something I'd said wrong, or something I should have added?
Had I spoken too soon for her in telling her how I felt? She was
still struggling to come to terms with our stranding -- the last thing
she needed was to know that her only companion, possibly the only person
she would ever see for the rest of her life, had romantic feelings for
her.
And yet... and yet, she had brought the subject up. The truth
may hurt us or surprise us at times but in the long run, it's usually safest.
"Not yet," she had said... but not "Never".
Hope springs eternal.
-{@}-{@}-
On the second day, he found the rose petal.
-{@}-{@}-
I bent down and picked up the delicate pink petal as it came to rest
on the floor of the corridor. "I think you dropped something, Kathryn,"
I reprimanded her lightly.
"You didn't make it unperishable?" she teased.
"More replicator rations, in case you'd forgotten. Besides, part of
the magic of roses is the reminder of the cycle of life and death." She
looked down at the floor, and I cursed myself. That had been the wrong
thing to say so soon after her encounter with the alien and her near brush
with death.
"Chakotay - I - I - when I was - when the alien was - damn this," she
finished in a mutter.
I placed what I thought was a supportive hand on her shoulder, but
she twisted away from my touch. In the brief moment before she turned away
from me, I could see that her expression was taut, anguished. I hated to
think of the thoughts that must be running through her mind; the memories.
"Kathryn, we don't need to go through this now. We were going to the
holodeck to celebrate, remember?"
"But, dammit, Chakotay! I - I saw you, and me-... I was dying... hell,
I *was* dead... and god, Chakotay - you - you were devastated, crying..."
She shuddered slightly at the memory, but I made no move. "I don't know
if it was a hallucination... wish fulfillment... accurate... but... it
was more than friendship."
"Kathryn," I reminded her softly, "You know how I feel. But I won't
press you, ever. That's a promise." There was silence for a few minutes,
no sound except our breathing. But she finally turned back to face me,
her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
"Oh, Chakotay... not now. Not yet." There were no words. I hugged her,
held her close.
"Oh, damnit!"
I moved back. "What?" I asked.
She held her hand up to me, the one that had been holding the rose.
A thin trickle of blood was starting to make its way down the palm. "Pricked
myself," she said, looking me straight in the eye with a bemused look on
her face. "You just had to replicate the thorns too, didn't you!?"
"Never met a rose without them," I said, and we both collapsed, laughing
until the tears ran down our cheeks.
-{@}-{@}-
A piece of antiquated paper was found on the third day; one sheet filled
with a pretty cursive script in fading blue ink...
-{@}-{@}-
We walked out of the holodeck side by side, I happy that we had started
putting our relationship back into some semblance of normality, she - who
could tell what she was thinking? After three years, some parts of
Kathryn Janeway were still an enigma to me. Her dedication, her fierce
loyalty to us, her courage - no one doubted that. But that wasn't
Kathryn. Kathryn was the woman I started to meet on New Earth.
The one who would initiate a water fight for no apparant reason, the one
who could occasionally be caught rolling the long, green grass or paddling
in the river.
We walked in companionable silence until we reached the bridge.
"Back to the world of Borg implants," I heard her mutter as she stepped
off the turblift. She paused long enough to shove one of the
pieces of paper into my hand. "Keep it." Then, she was the
Captain once more.
Excusing myself, I headed for my office, reading as I went.
"Kathryn Janeway's Personal Log.
"This incident with the Borg has reminded me where my priorities should
lie. I'm not referring to my decision to keep going through Borg
space and to maintain our alliance. I still believe that was the
right decision, and it's one I would make again, if necessary.
"I hope it never is.
"But where Chakotay was concerned, I could have - should have - done
better. Rather than walking over him, playing with the feelings I
know he has for me and using them to maniupulate him, I should have listened
to his concerns and worked with him.
"And I wish I knew how to make it up to him.
"This fiasco showed me exactly how much I've come to rely on him, but
I don't love him. As a friend, yes, but not romantically. Not
yet."
-{@}-{@}-
The fourth day found him holding a piece of pink tissue paper.
-{@}-{@}-
"Oh, Chakotay! You shouldn't have..." Kathryn unwrapped
the small box and opened it to reveal a silver watch, hung on a silver
chain. Removing the tissue paper and handing it to me, she looked
at me. "If I know you, there's a story behind this. Am I right?"
"You know me too well; there is a story. It's a replica of the
chronometer worn by Captain Cray of the British navy," I explained. "His
ship was hit by a typhoon in the Pacific Ocean, and everyone back in England
assumed they were killed."
"Go on," Kathryn said, turning the watch over in her hands.
"Eight months later Cray sailed his ship into London harbour. There
wasn't much left of it; a few planks, half a sail... but he got his crew
home."
"I appreciate the thought... though I hope we get home in better shape,
personally."
"I don't doubt that we will for a moment, Kathryn." And I didn't.
"Chakotay - you've been so supportive. We couldn't have made
it this far - *I* couldn't have made it this far without you."
I looked at her. Responding to the unasked question, she answered..
"Not yet."
-{@}-{@}-
Day five brought forth shattered isolinear chips.
-{@}-{@}-
"So... you won."
"Yes." Sitting on the sofa in her Ready Room, her voice was flat
and her expression similar. Earlier, we - the bridge crew -
had been forcefully removed from the bridge by the Devore Troops; I'd insisted
on compliance with the demands, trusting that Captain Janeway would come
through for us once again. I could only hope, as we waited in the
cargobay, that whatever was happening, the Captain had it firmly under
control.
My trust in her hadn't been misplaced. Here we were; back in
control of Voyager and on our way home again. Whatever had happened,
she'd pulled us through.
But, looking at her, at what cost?
Quite a few things about the past few days puzzled me. Had she
really loved Kashyk? Had he really loved her? I would be the
first to know how he felts if that was the case. But, Kathryn?
How had she felt about him? Even now, I'm not sure.
"If you want to talk about this Kathryn, I'm always ready to listen."
She didn't answer; her dull eyes remained focused on the stars. "I'm
always willing to talk, please remember that."
She turned at that. "Not yet."
I turned to go, but my attention was caught by some shattered pieces
of isolinear chips, glinting in the light. Bending down to scoop
them up, I asked, "What is - was - this?"
"Tchaikovsky."
-{@}-{@}-
On the sixth day, was wood. Shaped oddly, brightly coloured,
one part of a greater whole.
-{@}-{@}-
"Naomi and Icheb's jigsaw?" Kathryn shook her head in disbelief.
"At times, Chakotay, you keep the strangest things..."
I smiled up at her. "I like to collect memories."
She sat down on the floor next to me, fingering the piece. "So...
where does this bit go?"
I looked at her in mock horror, my voice matching my experession as
I demanded incredulously, "You mean, you don't recognise the base pair?!"
"Hey, I just go by the sha - ah! Got it." She leant over
me and snapped the piece firmly into place.
"You know, life has always struck me as being very much like a jigsaw
puzzle," I mused. "All the pieces, fitting together, interlocking..."
With a flourish, I put another piece into place.
"And sometimes," Kathryn continued as she attempted to fit a piece
in by rotating it 90 degrees, "Sometimes a piece just won't fit where you
expect it or want it to." She gave up on the space she was trying,
and instantly spotted the correct place. "but, if you re-evaluate
it, you find out you were trying the wrong place to start with; the only
thing wrong was your perspective. It's futile, though - you can't
change the picture on the box."
I gave up on the piece I was trying and looked at her curiously.
"That doesn't sound like the Kathryn Janeway I know."
"Kathryn Janeway is having difficulty making out the picture on the
box," she said as I tried the piece again, "And she's wondering if she's
been fitting a piece in wrongly."
"Is she ready to - try somewhere else?" I asked, my throat suddenly
dry.
Kathryn sighed, and turned back to working on the puzzle. "Not
yet. Not yet."
-{@}-{@}-
On the seventh day, he dreamt of her.
-{@}-{@}-
The bridge shuddered under the impact of the continuing volley, but
my world had narrowed to include only one thing - Kathryn. Even Kim's
attempts to scan her with the medical tricorder barely registered on the
edges of my awareness. Everything seemed to be focused on her ragged
breathing as time drew to a stop.
One burnt, ravaged hand clutched mine as Kathryn's battered body struggled
to draw in enough oxygen to keep her alive. "Chakotay, I-"
"Don't try to talk," I cautioned. "Save your strength.
We'll get you to sickbay and have you back on your feet in no time."
She gave me an attempt at a withering look, but it was only half of
what it could have been. "Don't... talk down... to me... Just get
Voyager... safe... get home..." She looked at me sorrowfully.
"I wish-" I gathered her in my arms and tried to keep her quiet.
We had to be able to save her, we had to had to had to... "Chakotay,
I do love you," she whispered, her voice rasping. "If only I'd...
realised... earlier..."
"Shh, you're going to pull through this," I repeated. "We'll
get you down to sickbay in a few minutes and the Doctor will fix you up.
It doesn't look like anything the Doctor can't fix."
Then I realised she wasn't breathing.
-{@}-{@}-
On the next day, as he sat by her bedside, waiting for any change,
the pattern began again.
the end...