Written by Scylla, August 23 2001
Feedback? Yes, please. sscylla@hotmail.com
Janeway/Chakotay Tom/B’Elanna
Rating: No idea really. PG-13 perhaps
Chakotay is dying, surrounded by those he love
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He drifted.
Floated, feeling warm, yes, comfortable, far away, beyond time, beyond meaning. River of darkness, river of truth, he knew everything, understood it all, yes, knowledge, love.
“…Chakotay…” soft voice, far away, not far enough. Go away, I want to stay! Don’t make me come back, don’t… He was floating towards the surface, no!, darkness shattering, coldness closing down on him, dawning.
He looked up. Faces, people, in and out of focus, eyes worried, worried about me. He smiled, he tried to, he thought he did, but no one returned the smile. They just kept on staring at him, they scared him with their solemn gazes. He didn’t want to see this, no, don’t look at me like that! He tried to hide, make them go away, shutting his eyes, yet they were still there, he could feel their pain. He opened his eyes again, squinting to see who they were, slowly coming into focus.
Tom Paris, the brat he hated so, the brat that hated him as much, the brat he had learnt to get along with over the years, the brat that looked as if on the verge of tears.
“Tom” he said lovingly, but he made no sound for the others to hear, only his mind’s voice speaking, telling Tom he loved him, will miss you Tom. Miss you more than you can ever imagine. He wanted to reach out and touch his hair. It looked so soft, such a lovely shade of blond. Why didn’t he ever tell him that? Tom, forgive me, please, promise you will not remember me with hate. I owe you my life, remember that, my blond hero? You risked your life for me, I said so many cruel things to you… Forgive me, Tom… He cried, silent tears in his mind, streaming, flowing, drowning him.
He let his eyes wander away from Tom, hurting too much to see tears spilling from those blue eyes, and found B’Elanna.
She did not cry, she did not smile, she hardly seemed alive, her face dead, silent, closed. When she saw him looking at her, she touched his hand, her face still as that of a statue. But he knew she was sad, knew she was screaming inside, knew she would gladly sacrifice her own life to save him. Beloved B’Elanna, you and Tom take care of each other now, promise me that.
She touched his hand again, pain, screaming fire of pain, and then turned her back on him, her shoulders shaking. Sweet, beloved B’Elanna, don’t cry. Tom, don’t just stand there, comfort her! But Tom didn’t move, not hearing, not knowing, not understanding, sobbing, not even trying to hide his own tears. Finally, it was Kathryn who put her arm around B’Elanna, holding her, hugging her, soothing her.
My gentle Kathryn, whom I love so much. Your love for everything living, your passion, your voice, your hair, your eyes. How can any woman be allowed such perfection? How can any man love another woman after meeting you? How can I ever stop loving you, Kathryn? Why could you not return my love? Pain, sadness, grief, not having your love, not being allowed to hold you, kiss your mouth, your lips.
She let go of B’Elanna, turning back to him, sad little smile on her lips, looking into his eyes. “Oh, Chakotay” she whispered, moving close to him, mouth at his ear, whispering his name again. Yes, that’s me, beloved Kathryn, you’re right, I’m Chakotay. Feverish thoughts, thoughts with no meaning, love you always, yes, even in death Kathryn, I’ll never stop loving you, I promise. Feeling her lips softly on his cheek, Kathryn I love you.
Happiness.
Love.
Oblivion.
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