Memory

MEMORY


Chakotay walked into their quarters as quietly as possible.  She'd left
the lights on for him as usual, as she had for the past few years, when
his night vision had all but disappeared.  One more thing to accept.  

He changed into a nightshirt.  Power levels were down at the moment and
B'Elanna insisted that cabins be kept at a fairly low temperature.  Only
those from hot planets were exempt.  This was nothing new.  The miracle
was that Voyager was still functioning after all these decades.  It was
almost as miraculous as the fact that crew was still a unit and that he
himself was capable of duty.  He was down to half shifts, just like the
remainder of the original crew - those who hadn't retired already.

He slipped into the bedroom, which was at 25% light.  He slid into bed
next to his wife.  She stirred, as he knew she would.  Captains sleep
lightly and she was a captain to her very bones.  He gave her a kiss and
she smiled and settled down again.  He just looked at her.  Her hair was
purest silver, her skin was a soft network of wrinkles - there was a
lifetime recorded on her face.  He could see laughter and pain and worry
and sorrow, and, above all, responsibility, there.  She was as beautiful
as she was the day she'd stopped hiding from him.

                             *    *    *

The party was over.  It had been a good idea - part celebration, part
wake.  It helped with the combination of letters from home and the news
that some of them bore.  Chakotay wanted to push that news in the back
of his mind.  He made sure the other Maquis knew.  He'd seen them cry
and rage and accept, since there was nothing else they could do.  He
thought he'd accepted it, too, just as the captain had accepted what her
fiance had done.  What her former fiance, now a married man, had done.

The focus of the party were the letters from home.  As Chakotay wandered
around the Mess Hall, he could hear scraps of conversation.

An ensign from sciences.  "There's a passage here from my daughter.  She
was just learning to read when we left.  Now...now she's playing Parisis
Squares.  She's a champion.  I wonder what she looks like..."

A crewman from engineering and his new lover.  "He's waiting for me. 
He's letting his life slip by.  Oh, sweetheart, what will we do?"

A security guard from the Maquis.  "I have a brand-new niece!  My
brother was just engaged when we left.  I was supposed to be best
man...I'll bet she's beautiful."

A security guard from Star Fleet.  "My dad got a promotion.  All my mom
can do is gripe about Star Fleet.  Nothing's changed.  Thank goodness."

A group of Maquis in the corner, with close Star Fleet friends
surrounding them.  "I can't believe it's all over.  I hated that fight,
but it meant something, and now it's gone.  I wish we never found that
damn Bajorran wormhole."

"If we weren't on _Voyager_, we'd be dead or in prison now.  Thank God
for the Caretaker and Captain Janeway."  They all nodded at that. 
Chakotay smiled.  He also thanked the spirits for her, but he had
additional reasons.

And so it went around the room.  Dear John letters, notices of divorce, 
reminders that life went on at home without them - all were represented. 
And some didn't even get that.  Not every letter got through.  Some had
the same tantalizing bits that Tom Paris did, and others not even that. 
Seven, of course, stood aloof.  Chakotay could see that some were
jealous of that.

He quietly let it be known that he'd be available for counseling during
the next few days.  After all, not everyone had the resources he did. 
He was about to leave when he saw Janeway sitting by herself.

"Mind if I join you, Kathryn?"

She looked up at him.  "I've been watching you.  You didn't miss anyone,
did you?"

"I'm your first officer.  That's my job."  He sat down.

"It's also my job."

"You have your own troubles."

"Do I?  Or am I just unhappy that my safety net is gone?"  She took a
sip of her coffee.  "What about you, Chakotay?"

"I'm fine."

She sat silently for a moment, staring at him.  Then she touched his
hand.  "If you say so.  Promise me this, Chakotay.  If there comes a
moment when you aren't fine, tell me.  I'm not just your captain.  I'm
your friend."  

He nodded.  "I know you are.  Thank you.  This time it isn't necessary."

They went on to talk of inconsequentialities and ship's gossip.  This
was Chakotay's main weakness.  If he didn't know the latest dirt, no one
did.  Janeway exploited that ruthlessly, since no one else would gossip
with the captain.  Not that some of it wasn't painfully obvious.  Harry
Kim and Seven, for example.  He was standing next to her now, trying to
interest her in his letter from home.  She was clearly uninterested in
the letter.  Both chortled over this.  Even so, Janeway told Chakotay to
keep an eye out for troubles.  Harry Kim was in many ways an innocent.

The rather gloomy party broke up soon after, and all drifted to other
activities or duty stations.  Chakotay went to his cabin.

He changed into more comfortable clothing.  His uniform had once again
become a part of him, so he didn't mind meditating in it, but this time
it seemed to chafe.  He chose a long, loose robe instead.

He settled on the floor with his medicine bundle.  He *was* fine.  He
knew that, but the day had been unsettled and it was a good time to
center himself and to commune with his spirit animal.

He held the bundle in his hand and began the ritual phrase.  "A-kee-
chee-moy-ya.  We are far from the sacred places of our ancestors..."  
He could not continue.  Something was stopping him, something he
couldn't see or fight.  It was as though there was a brick wall between
him and the journey he needed to take.

He took some deep breaths.  He began another chant, one meant to calm
the spirit.  It usually worked, but it didn't this time.  He couldn't
center himself properly, and he couldn't think why.

Instead, he grew angry.  It had been a long time since he'd been that
angry.  He'd been fighting the Federation then.  He'd been at peace for
so many years, serving under Kathryn Janeway.  He'd belonged there at
her side like he'd never belonged anywhere else.  Where did the anger
come from?  He stopped trying to think - it only made him angrier. He
didn't care where it originated.  He just wanted to deal with it.

He found an artifact they'd picked up - an elegant glass vase that had
struck his fancy because of its organic curves.  He'd come aboard
Voyager with nothing, but now he had a cabin full of such things.  It
wasn't home, it was the best he could do.  Suddenly, that wasn't enough.

He tossed the pretty thing across the room.  It hit the cabin bulkhead
with a satisfying crash.  Yes, that felt good.  He didn't want to think
why it felt good.  Instead, he found some other fragile souvenir to
toss.  This time, the delicate-looking crystal sculpture didn't break. 
It bounced against the bulkhead with a resounding thunk, but it didn't
break.  So he picked it up and did it again, harder.  It stubbornly
stayed intact.

He was about to throw it again when someone signaled at his door.  He
didn't say anything, but the door opened.  Still holding the sculpture,
he turned to face the door.  There was Janeway in a robe.  Her hair was
disheveled and she looked rather perturbed.

"May I suggest, Commander, that if you really want to redecorate, you
find some quieter way of doing it?"

He stood there, breathing hard.  "What is it, Captain?"

"Either throw that thing or put it down.  That's carbon crystal. 
Diamond.  It's not going to break."  He looked at it and remembered that
*she'd* given it to him as a birthday present two years earlier.  It was
a replicated miniature of a piece of public art he'd admired.  For one
moment, he had the urge to throw it back to her, but instead he put it
down.

"Very well.  What do you want, Captain?"

"May I come in?"  He nodded curtly.  She looked at the broken glass as
she walked in the door.  She didn't look surprised.

"I wondered what that was."  She glanced him and took a seat on his
couch.

"You heard?  I didn't want to wake you."  He kept his anger down to a
simmer as he sat down beside her.

"My bed is against that wall.  I couldn't help but hear.  However, I was
wide awake.  I was rereading Mark's letter."  

"Why are you torturing yourself?"

"I'm not.  I was a little upset when I first read it, but I'm not now. 
I miss him but I stopped being in love with him a while ago.  I can't
say I'm relieved, not yet, but it doesn't hurt the way I thought it
would."

She looked at him with those clear eyes that saw straight into his soul.

"I wish you could say the same thing."

"I'm fine, Kathryn."

"People who are 'fine' don't toss vases around.  You can't lie to me,
Chakotay.  I can see him."

"See who?"  He knew the answer, but couldn't admit it.

"The angry warrior.  He's still there inside of you.  And right now he
wants to get out."

"I can manage it."  She leaned her head towards the shards of glass on
the floor.  "That was momentary."

"That's why you tried to break the sculpture?  Don't lie to me.  Don't
lie to yourself."

Chakotay stood up abruptly.  His hands were clenched.

"How dare you say anything!  You have no idea!  You and your Federation! 
If it weren't for that treaty, my family, my friends, my home...Oh,
spirits, my home!  It would still exist!"  He reached towards her, but
stopped short of touching her.  She didn't flinch.

"Do you hate me that much?"  Her voice was as calm as her demeanor.

"Hate?  I could never hate you, Kathryn.  I hate the Federation and the
Cardassians and whoever the Dominion is, but not you.  Oh, God!  What
was I going to do to you?"  He collapsed back on the couch.

"Nothing.  You would never hurt me.  I trust you with my life,
Chakotay."  She took his hand.  

"All of them are gone.  My home is gone.  That's why I joined the Maquis
in the first place - to protect my home.  When we got here, I could
accept that I wouldn't see the people anymore.  I thought of them as
gone.  It was easier that way."

"You aren't the only one to do that.  I couldn't, I had to believe we'd
return and everyone would be waiting for us."

"I know.  It's part of your strength.  It's one of the things I...love
about you."  He looked at her, but she showed no sign of hearing that. 
"I had to believe them out of my reach forever.  But home - that would
remain and wait for me.  Everyone has driving forces.  For me, it's home
and family.  And now, both are gone."  His eyes stung. He rubbed them. 
His hands came away wet.

"Are they?  Are they really?"

"Yes!" He felt his hands clenching again.  Then he stopped.  "No.  That
home is gone, and that family is gone, but there is another."

"Is there?"

"I'm sitting in it.  You've been saying it all along.  Even though you
keep pointing us towards the Federation, you kept saying this was home
and family."

"We are going home, Chakotay.  I will take this ship home.  But
meanwhile, we're here for a long time.  And while we are, it's also
home."

"That's why I had to destroy that vase, I think.  It helped make this
place my home, and I couldn't let it.  I was forgetting, and it made me
angry."  He took some deep breaths. "I'm still angry, but I know why,
now.  I can work with it."

"Work with something else, too."

"What?"

"Me.  I was clinging to Mark like a lifeline.  I loved him very much,
and we would have had a wonderful marriage.  But now that can't be, and
I think I'm glad.  I won't be betraying him.  I can't even say I miss
him that much.  He's a memory.  One that I will cherish always, but...
we're here."

"Not now."

"No.  But soon, my angry warrior.  Soon.  We both want something to
cherish that isn't a memory."  She leaned forward and kissed him on the
cheek.  He touched the place.

"I'm going back to my cabin.  Please don't destroy your cabin,
Chakotay."  He smiled.  He still had to work with his anger, but now he
knew he could.

                             *    *    *

That was forty years ago.  There were four generations on Voyager, and
far too many of the original crew were gone.  Harry never got a chance
to lose his innocence, but he'd be a great-grandfather if he had lived. 
Seven proved to be an excellent mother.

He and Kathryn had been forty years together.  There never had been a
need to formalize it with a marriage.  Forty years was a long time for
one woman to be in charge, even if she wasn't alone.  She'd become
physically frail, just like her starship, but she was still stronger
than he could ever be.  He doubted he could have held the crew together
as she did, or maintained the discipline she maintained.

Despite his care, she woke.  She blinked her eyes in an attempt to
focus.

"Sweetheart.  How was the shift?"  Her voice was barely over a whisper.

"Mata Paris is doing a fine job.  You picked the right one."

"I know.  Our goddaughter has good genes.  She'll take us home."

"You will take us home, my love."  

She just smiled.  He held her gently in his arms.  "You are so
beautiful, my Kathryn."

"Always and only in your eyes, my love.  *You* look exhausted."

"I am.  Kathryn...Tom and B'Elanna are retired now.  They're younger
than we are, and B'Elanna has a Klingon lifespan.  Maybe..."

"It's my ship."  For a moment, her voice held her old power. "And maybe
you're right.  I'll think about it.  Mata doesn't need us second
guessing her, does she?"

He shook his head, and, like they had done so many times over the years,
they fell asleep in each others' arms.
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