Summary: Janeway regains consciousness after Voyager is attacked.  Angsty.

Chakotay?  Chakotay, are you there?  It's dark, and I can't move.

Chakotay?  Tom?  Tuvok?

Oh God … anyone?

It's dark.  My legs are burning up … I think I'm bleeding.  My face is wet. Or maybe it's tears.

Am I on the bridge?  Something is beeping … there are lights flashing.  Blink.  Blink.  My world is going from black to red to black again…

Chakotay, why aren't you answering me?  I can move a little now, I can feel you next to me.  My arm is trapped under your body.  Like being in bed, but without that nice warmth, and anyway, I'm almost certain we're on the bridge.

Black.  Red.  Black.

Your body is cold.  I must have been unconscious for a long time. I hope you died quickly.  I'd like to think that you thought of me, but it's more likely that you were worried about the shields or weapons…

Oh Chakotay.  I'll miss you dreadfully, but I have to survive before I can mourn.

Survive.  Breathe.  Try to ignore the ache in my lungs and the blood building up in my throat.  Try to hit my commbadge.  Find nothing but sticky remnants of skin and fragments of burnt uniform.

Harry?  Can you hear me?  Send a distress signal, Harry.  See if there's anyone alive belowdecks.  Let Seven and B'Elanna know that there are survivors.  We'll just keep still and wait for the cavalry.  Y'know, Harry, I think I'd be glad to see Mortimer Harren.

Harry?  Ensign, it is customary to respond when addressed by a senior officer.

I wish *I* had a senior officer out here.  Help me see this incident in the cold light of protocol.  "What, in your opinion, did you do wrong, Captain?"

I wish I could remember.  At least then I'd know why I'm lying on my bridge, half-buried by the corpse of my first officer.

There's blood welling up in my mouth, warm and sickly.  Damn.  Have to hang on.  Just a few minutes more, then B'Elanna and Seven will get through.  They'll take me to sickbay. I'll live.

Sorry, Chakotay.  I'm half-tempted to just stay here and die next to you, but, you know, duty calls.  I hate to leave you here to be dead on your own, but we both knew this might happen.  Still … there are things maybe we should have said, hey?

Honesty comes too late.  My fault.  All my fault.  Always my fault.

I'm so sorry.  My fault.  No forgiveness, now.  Just penance.

There's more blood in my mouth, now.  Blood everywhere.

I always thought that dying would be hard, but it's the easiest thing I've ever done.  Everything's going white.  You'd expect it to be black, wouldn't you?

Chakotay? Tom? Harry?  Tuvok?  I think it's over.  I'm sorry.  I'm sorry.  I would have done things differently now.  I would have changed a lot.  You understand.

Still, we had something special, didn't we?  Weren't we remarkable?

Chakotay?  It's been nice talking to you.  It's been nice…

END

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Copyright © 2001 Elizabeth M. Barr

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