THE ANNIVERSARY WALTZ 

PART SIX

Somehow, Andrew's injunction that she enjoy herself  and smile her way through her sorrow worked. She picked herself up and went about her duties like she promised Chakotay. It had been cathartic when she finally told him of her true feelings even under the most difficult circumstances.  He was tied to another, a choice he made when he could no longer wait for her to make up her mind. She had to deal with that reality for three years, but telling him that she loved him was like a boulder had just rolled off her shoulder.  The relief was great.  Still, she was realistic and didn't expect the status quo to change just because she revealed herself in such a dramatic manner during the waltz. She felt he deserved to know and even though neither she nor Chakotay could do anything about it, she felt good for once.

She had told him that she wished to make another memory with him and that was enough. Whether it was enough to sustain her for the rest of her life, depended on how she allowed it to dominate her life. She'd been melancholy on her birthdays, unable to sleep well for weeks after the anniversaries, and those occasions they met socially were occasions she kept to a minimum. They were colleagues for at least a period of the year and she jealously guarded the aftermath of odd meetings and pleasant exhanges with him. She held her head high like always and went about her business as if the man who lectured first year cadets just two rooms away from hers was never there.

Now that she shared her feelings with him she felt lighter than she had in years, though the melancholy persisted. She couldn't shake it off and once she actually thought she was coming down with a bad cold, or something. She was restless, and this time it was not thoughts of Chakotay and Seven of Nine together that kept her in a state of unease whenever they were back on Earth. She had overcome the terrible resentment and sense of loss and jealousy whenever she thought of them together, or in one another's arms, kissing, making love. That didn't cause her restlessness.

It was something deeper, more spiritual she supposed, that kept her up all night after the anniversary celebration. Chakotay and Seven need never fear that she would come between them, and she sensed that that was mostly what Seven's apprehension was. Although the former Borg appeared icy cool, she was as insecure and vulnerable as the next woman who tried to hold on to her mate.

Kathryn could hardly wait to close up her office and make her way to the Ketarchan Exhibition Suite. She admitted that the Primos Urn drew her irresistibly to it and now, with Chakotay at last knowing about how she felt about him, she needed to get away, to look at the urn again and find the strange peace suffuse her like it did the first time. Her heart raced as she thought of it and how she would place her palms close to the urn and attempt to touch it. She was intrigued by the Goddess of Virtue, by the Dance of Peace with the warrior and the parallels to her own life with Chakotay didn't go unnoticed.  So she hurried across the lawns to the Academy and when Rojan saw her, he gave her a broad smile as if he knew she'd be back.

"Admiral, I knew you'd come..."

So much for second-guessing, she thought wryly as she greeted him.

"You know the urn and I have something in common, Rojan."

"Yes, the Goddess of Virtue. I was told there was a Goddess dancing last night at the anniversary celebration."

Word always spread fast. Faster than on small ships the size of Voyager it seemed like to her.

"Is that true?" she asked.

"Oh, yes, Admiral! You wore a - a dream of a dress. Yes, the Goddess is beckoning you." Rojan waved his hand with a flourish towards the dark room where the Primos Urn stood. "I've made sure there'll be no one here for at least an hour, Admiral..."

"Thank you, Rojan."

Once inside, Kathryn's eyes adjusted to the dark quickly as she stepped to the centre of the room. The Primos Urn glowed and when Kathryn stood close to it, a strange warmth filled her. It was not heat that emanated from the artefact, but she was bathed in a sense of well-being, of being cosseted, of a familiarity that no longer surprised her. It knew her, and as if in greeting or deference, the urn started to glow deeper again as her palm inexorably came up close to it. A second only, and she remembered that she couldn't touch it. She stood still as she looked at the figures caught in movement as old as time, an eternal dance in which the Goddess and the warrior were unified, just like she and Chakotay had been the previous night.

"I wonder what happened when you danced with him..." she murmured softly. "Did you too find the pull to the warrior irresistible? You must have. Your eyes are on him all the time, never breaking contact..."

Kathryn paused, imagining a scene in a forest glade. What was it again that she remembered from the legend? Did they hear her? As if in reply to her musing, the urn gleamed more intensely and then her body filled with waves of heat, not overpowering, but enough to acknowledge that the urn was moving again, a minute vibration that made her fingers also tremble lightly. She closed her eyes a moment and when she opened them, found herself in a strange place.

A beautiful woman with hair flowing behind her as the breeze caught it, and wearing a long white garment that lapped gently against her ankles stood before the warrior. He wore a head dress, like a helmet and he carried what looked like a broadsword.

Where am I? Kathryn wondered for a moment before she realised that the area around her had changed into a clearing surrounded by beautiful forest ferns. The Goddess spoke, her words drifting about them on the breeze and echoing through the universe.

We are of the same world,  Amahl. Do not continue your fight against your brothers.

Who then shall understand the Anarchs? We are fighters. You must understand that more than anyone, O  virtuous Goddess. You spring from the same race of warriors, for were you not born to a warrior king?

Then is it not good for our people, since we are brothers and sisters, to end our hostilities?

We have drifted apart. It cannot be helped. To be accepted we must fight.

Does not fighting cause division? Are we not stronger if we are united? My task is to unite, Amahl.  Ketara and Anarch are of the same race. We must preserve peace in order to survive. Too many have died by their brothers' hands. Only you have the power to stop the carnage of our world, Amahl.

Upon my word alone? Are you not our goddess, too?

That is so, Amahl. It is in my power to destroy you, to bring you to justice...

What then of my people?

Are we not of the same race, Amahl?

Will you destroy me?

It is a power I will not use. How can I if I am to unite us all?

My destiny...it is in your hands...

Then is not my destiny in your hands too?

How can that be so, Goddess of Virtue?

Because, Amahl, you have been chosen. My peace is your peace and your peace is mine. We are one...

Then let me be by your side always...

Let me kneel before you then, Amahl, to show that I am earnest.

Rise, O Goddess. Kneel not before the worshipper. Rather, let us join in dance...

Always, Amahl...

Then the images vanished as suddenly as they had inveigled themselves in her consciousness. Kathryn blinked hard, disoriented for several seconds until the room came into focus again. The bright light of her forest clearing was gone and in its place was the present - a soft glow radiating from the urn, and the figures on it again stilled in time. She felt mildly bereft. The images,  voices and figures moving,  the warrior whose name was Amahl which sounded to her too much like Amal Kotay, the name of Chakotay on the planet Quarra, were all gone, but remained as echoes still in her.

She realised with some surprise and wonder that she stood with both palms up and almost against the urn's forcefield. 

"Admiral! Is something the matter?" Rojan's voice intruded on her musing. She looked at him with glazed eyes, still in her dream state.

"Yes... No, it's alright, Rojan. I'll go now. Don't worry..."

Without looking back at the urn or Rojan, Kathryn left the room quietly, deeply pensive about what had happened.

*****************

"It has been a week, Professor, and Admiral Janeway visits the Primos Urn every day."

Chakotay looked at Rojan's worried face.

"Every day?" He hadn't realised that the urn would have such an impact on Kathryn.

"Yes. She doesn't talk, just stands there and perhaps, Professor, there is silent communication?"

"And you want me to investigate the matter."

"Every day when she leaves, Professor, she looks sadder than the previous day and more weary.  Her steps become slower and yesterday, she hardly moved. I had to take her hand..."

Chakotay hesitated, cursed inwardly when Rojan made a sound of impatience.

"I cannot intrude on her private time, Rojan."

"You must do something. Before long there'll be nothing left of her."

Rojan stood on the opposite side of the desk and when Chakotay rose to his feet, the young man retreated a step.

"Aren't you exaggerating a bit? I told you Admiral Janeway probably doesn't wish to be disturbed. I can't just rush in there and tell her not to visit again." Chakotay thought Rojan wanted to cry the way his face creased. He gave a deep sigh, then sat down in his chair again.

"Please, Professor, will you go and see what you can do? I shall be much relieved if I can see her smile again like she did the first day she came to the Suite."

Chakotay rubbed his chin idly. He was curious; he was very concerned as well, but he didn't want Rojan to see he was ready to leap to Kathryn's aid. He didn't want the Ketarchan to think things.

"Fine, I'll go - "

"She comes every day at 1700 hours. It's almost that time. I must go."

Chakotay nodded and Rojan gave a relieved smile before leaving the office. The poor man was harried, run off his feet because now, even the local schools brought their classes to the exhibition, and a delegation from Eprox Prime also visited in the last week.

He was finished with his classes for the day and hadn't wanted to go home to an empty apartment. Annika had left the morning after the anniversary celebration and had given him a brief though passionate embrace before she left. She hadn't contacted him since she left a week ago. He wasn't sure whether he should feel relieved or guilty. All she asked that last night was that she lie in his arms. They had not been intimate and holding her had given him some sort of closure too. Annika wanted to feel part of him and wanted to commit him to her memory. Although she hadn't said a word, it was what he wanted to do for her. A few times she had shed a tear. He knew that by the way her body shook from the occasional sob.

In the morning, she had been as impassive as she had been on Voyager and almost succeeded in fooling him into believing that three years of living with him either never happened, or it was irrelevant. He hadn't wanted to rush into Kathryn's arms then, still reeling a little from her revelation and her need of him.

They both needed time, even as Kathryn held no hope for a future with him. That much was clear in her last words she spoke with him. She wanted him to know how she felt about him, and that was all. No demands and no conditions.

Now, with Rojan's concerns, rose his own. Kathryn was visiting the urn every day and every day she became more tired. Something was wrong. He had promised Rojan to look into the matter, but the promise wasn't necessary , he thought as he got up and made his way to the Exhibition. It was almost 1700 hours, the time most visitors would be gone. His own fear and concern and rising exhilaration that he would see Kathryn and get to speak with her and perhaps, find out what ailed her, spoke louder than the promise he made Rojan to go and investigate what he sensed now, was the power of the urn.

So Chakotay rushed towards the Suite, his heart pumping wildly. He gave cursory nods to those he passed, not caring that he might look a little flustered.

Rojan was standing just outside the Primos Room when he arrived.

"She's there," Rojan whispered softly, his eyes wide. What was happening? Rojan looked like he was expecting the Goddess of Virtue to start dancing.  Chakotay took in a deep breath and nodded, beckoning to the Ketarchan to remain at the entrance to the room.

It was dark when Chakotay entered, as dark as it had been the very first day he had fallen down the shaft and found the room. Kathryn stood next to the exhibit which was still emanating a soft glow. Chakotay remembered that the natural gleam from the urn gave enough low light that he could move about in the dark. Kathryn seemed oblivious of him at first. When he stepped closer, she gave him a sideways glance, smiled briefly, then continued to fix her gaze on the urn.

She looked tired, he thought absently. Her eyes were a little sunken, but it was more than that. He had never seen her this way.  Tired, yet completely focused on the object in front of her. She never spoke, merely indicated with a nod of the head that he come closer.

He was afraid to speak, afraid to break the spell he knew instinctively was about them. Else how could the urn's glow grow and diminish, then swell out again as if it listened to Kathryn and actually breathed?

"Do you see them move?" she asked softly. He noticed that she held her palms almost against the forcefield.

"Only when two of the same heart look at it." He didn't want to tell her it was only a legend, a myth of ages past. She seemed intent on believing the figures moved.

"Hold your palms up, Chakotay. Like mine..."

It never occurred to him to ignore her order, so he too, stood with his palms up, as if they were both ready to grab hold of the urn. The urn was protected, with a twin forcefield against it that no one knew was there, even with the most sophisticated technology to trace it. It was activated, that he could see from the small monitor that stood just inside the room.

He looked at the figures. He had seen them often enough in the days after he discovered the artefact. They were still figures, a couple depicted in different poses or events, painted on them by the Potter of Primos, the most gifted of them all.

Chakotay remembered his days on Voyager with Kathryn, odd moments of togetherness, their old camaraderie. He looked at the two primary figures caught in movement, stilled forever in time, yet he felt that they too, must have experienced that togetherness he and Kathryn always had. The warrior wore headgear that resembled a helmet and in his hand was a broadsword. In one picture he knelt before the goddess and held his sword to the her. Chakotay wondered whether the warrior was relinquishing his powers, or something.

"His name is Amahl, Chakotay. He is pledging his allegiance to her..."

He didn't look at Kathryn as she spoke, just naturally accepted her explanation, not asking how she knew the warrior's name. Then a strange thing happened. He cast Kathryn a quick glance and she met his gaze. If the urn weren't there, their fingers could have touched. In fact, it did feel for him that their fingers touched. But, it was impossible. It couldn't be...

"Kathryn?"

"I can see you, Amahl..."

"I am Chakotay."

"I know."

Why did it look as if Amahl the warrior rose to his feet and removed his helmet? He bowed before the Goddess, then rose to take her hand. Chakotay's throat constricted.  Did he transport to a clearing surrounded by forest ferns? He knew it was not a vision quest, yet just training his thoughts on those figures brought him to their time, their place... The Goddess and the warrior were moving together in primal dance -  a dance of the ages.

Take  my hand, Amahl...

I am not worthy, O Goddess of Virtue...

Your peace is my peace. Your happiness is my happiness.

Then Amahl and the fair Goddess with her long hair and ice-white flowing robe moved together, joined in ancient unification of their world. All around the urn they moved, alive, animated, apart, yet united. He felt a tremendous peace overcome him and his body became warm with well-being. He saw Kathryn's eyes on him.

"They're dancing, Chakotay..."

"When two of the same heart look at them, they will dance the dance of peace and unification."

"Yes..."

"My heart and your heart, Kathryn..."

"No one else alive in this universe... Only your heart and mine."

"I did not believe it, Kathryn. Forgive me."

"I never asked you to believe me, Chakotay. Only to join me in faith."

"I thought you were afraid...always afraid."

He felt the urn vibrate against his fingers and thought for a moment he had touched the forcefield. But it couldn't be. There would have been the familiar blue flash had he touched it. He looked at Kathryn and she shook her head gently. He knew that they would both shock if they touched it and even if the forcefield were breached, the touch on the urn itself would render them both unconscious for more than five hours.

What was happening?

Kathryn's palm and fingers pressed forward.

"Kathryn...no!" he whispered urgently.

"Come with me, Chakotay, and join me in the dance of life..."

How could he not? She was the Goddess, she was Kathryn; she was his queen, his soul mate. In all his dreams, all his wishes,  all his desires and love of beauteous things, his boundless need to express himself, he found a mirror in Kathryn's heart.

So he watched as she pressed her hand right through the forcefield. He followed her, joined her in faith as she commanded. He knew that Rojan could not have deactivated the codes.

"Kathryn...my love..."

His eyes widened as Kathryn's hands came closer and closer to the black and golden surface of the urn. He wanted to warn her. But already, they had both passed the forcefield.

"Just a touch, Chakotay. Feel its strength...feel it..."

"Kathryn..."  His voice was a low, soft cry of capitulation when at last he gave himself over to the power of the Goddess of Virtue.

Their hands touched the urn simultaneously.

The room was suddenly bathed in golden light. Light and shadows that played and mingled, then became gradually brighter, throwing shafts against the walls and in the shafts of light they saw themselves, Kathryn and Chakotay, on the night they danced the anniversary waltz. Kathryn dressed in her ice-white creation that made her look like she was gliding on clouds; he, dressed in his white tie and black tails. They danced gracefully, and then several more shafts sprang from the urn which was turning on its little platform. Chakotay saw something else. On the wall, in a play of silhouettes and golden light, the Goddess of Virtue and her  warrior Amahl joined Kathryn and Chakotay in their dance. The Goddess, dressed in flowing white ice-white garment and Amahl, dressed in the garb of the warrior. Chakotay's fingers touched Kathryn's and no more did he question or seek desperate answers to the truth, or needed to be convinced of the way of the truth.

The truth was before him. It had been there all the time.

There was no fear, for fear had died. He was filled with the timeless knowledge, come lately on the wings of light and love, that he belonged with Kathryn Janeway forever. They were two and they were one, just as the Goddess and Amahl  - two of the same heart joining to find peace.

Trouble not yourself with guilt, for she knows your truth.

Chakotay's eyes closed. Annika has always known...

"Trouble not yourself, Chakotay... We are one..."

"I know now, Kathryn. I understand."

"I will wait for you, for there is much to be done..."

"Yes, my love..."

Then the spell - a mesh of the finest thread in which the Goddess of Virtue, Amahl, Kathryn and Chakotay were caught, was broken by the cry that sprang from another source in the room. Kathryn and Chakotay, released from the spell, both turned slowly in the direction of the intrusion and saw Rojan standing there, wide-eyed, in tears.

"It has happened. The Oracle of the Ages has come true. Only one of pure heart could light the urn and make the Goddess come to life."

Chakotay took Kathryn's hand, and both walked to the stunned young man who remained rooted to the spot, just inside the door of the room that was now bathed in the incredible, fantastic light in which four individuals danced for peace. Kathryn looked up at her warrior, smiled at him and gave his hand a little squeeze.

"What has happened, Rojan?" Chakotay asked the dazed Rojan.

"The High Priest of Ketarcha, Keeper of the Oracle of the Ages will be happy, Admiral...Professor. They have searched for many, many years for the one to find the Primos Urn, and for the one to make the Goddess come to life again. You are blessed, the Chosen to fulfill the Oracle of the Ages..."

"Why am I hearing this only now?" Chakotay asked, still holding Kathryn's hand in his, unwilling to break contact with her. Rojan stared at the dancing images on the walls, then met their gaze.

"We knew your destiny was on Earth, Professor, but you had to face the truth yourself..."

Chakotay turned to Kathryn and pulled her closer to him.

"Or else I was going to take the exhibition to every planet in the Federation to find the one who could make the urn come to life," he said reflectively, amazed at what Rojan was telling him. Everyone knew. The Ketarcha Council, even Annika. He had wanted to deny it for years. He hadn't wanted to face the truth, for he was bound by honour to another. Yet, all he had to do was do the right thing. Chakotay closed his eyes for a moment, felt the burn of tears behind his eyelids. Kathryn's image, the day she came to his quarters, the distraught look in her eyes that was gone in an instant...

To do the right thing...

"Professor, I have to lock up now, and from tomorrow every visitor who comes will now see the Primos urn as it must have looked in the year the great, gifted Potter of Primos made it. Accept its truth.

"I feel honoured, Rojan," Kathryn said, "but now, I need to rest, you understand?"

"Anything, Admiral," Rojan said with a flourish as they exited the room.

"Take good care of them, Rojan," Chakotay said. Rojan turned his head in the direction of the dark room where the four figures danced and then he gave Chakotay a brilliant smile.

"Aye, Professor!"

********

Outside the building it was already growing dark and Chakotay pulled Kathryn to him. He looked deeply into her eyes and was gratified when she rested her head against his chest. His hand came up to stroke her hair and he gave a little cry.

"Forgive me, Kathryn. That day when you came to my quarters... I know now what you wanted to tell me..."

"It took me long to come to that decision and it made me free. I was dying to share my feelings with you. All that I felt for seven years and had been afraid to..."

"And then you saw me with Seven..."

"I could never begrudge what you had."

"I know," he said softly.  He caressed her cheek, watched how her eyes closed at the contact. "You look exhausted."

She gave a contented sigh. He bent his head to kiss her, a tender touch of his lips against hers.

"I'll be on a diplomatic mission in deep space for about six weeks, Chakotay, then after that I'll be in Indiana. I'll wait..."

"Kathryn..."

"It's my turn, Chakotay," she said gently.

Her generosity humbled him. She rose on tiptoe and kissed him in a brief touch, and seconds later, Kathryn left. Chakotay stared in the direction she walked long after he couldn't see her familiar figure anymore. He shook his head. It was too much, everything he and Kathryn experienced in the last hour or so. The fantastic legend he had heard about but was sceptical most of the time about its truth. He had humoured the young students and volunteers of Ketarcha for their child-like faith in the myth that surrounded the events of eight thousand years ago. If he hadn't found the urn, what direction would his life have taken, if not with Kathryn? Was it his destiny that he of all people on Ketarcha had to find it? He had never stopped loving Kathryn since the day he met her. Was it her destiny that she should be the instrument, the very goddess to make the urn come to life, and therefore let everyone experience what happened that fateful day when the Goddess of Virtue danced with the warrior Amahl?

His destiny was woven inextricably with Kathryn's. That was a fact, a blinding, thrilling new realisation that made him suddenly free. The huge weight of duty to Annika, to remain faithful to her and honour his commitment to her, suddenly now, in the face of the miracle that happened and which started the night they danced the anniversary waltz, made it imperative that he set into motion the things that needed to be done.

Chakotay was roused briefly from his musing when he heard footsteps.

"I'm going now, Professor. Good night," Rojan said as the young man came outside and showed his surprise to see Chakotay still standing there.

"Rojan..."

"Yes, Professor?"

"I have some things to do. You will be fine here for a few weeks..."

"Where will you go?"

"I cannot tell you, but be assured that when I return, Ketarcha Prime will relive the legend of the Goddess again.

"Then that is good. My people wait. They have been patient eight thousand years. Another few months will be no sacrifice."

"Goodnight."

Rojan nodded briefly then he too, disappeared in the direction Kathryn Janeway had gone. Chakotay gave a sigh. He felt good at last. He loved Kathryn and gloried in the fact that he could now allow himself to express that luxury. It was no more a luxury, he realised with wonder. It was a need, a burning desire to tell it to the world. Kathryn loved him and that was an even greater miracle.

He had to go home, just as Rojan had gone to his apartment and Kathryn had gone home to hers. He needed to think, to mull again over everything that happened.

Then he had to go to Utopia Planitia to tell Annika Hansen what he had to tell her.

He had to go to Indiana to tell Kathryn Janeway what he had to tell her.

****************

End

EPILOGUE

It was winter when Chakotay arrived at Indiana. Snow lay thick outside and glimmered in the watery sun. Kathryn had been sitting in the lounge, warmed by the fire in the hearth, reading Dante's "La Vita Nuova" when she happened to look through the window. She hadn't been specifically focused on anything, not expecting to see anyone except her dog bounding about in the snow. 

She had been back almost a month from her mission and had taken a well-earned period of leave. Now, at the tail-end of it, she felt rejuvenated. Most times, especially at night, she could think about Chakotay and relive all those golden moments they shared. She had acquired the last photograph from Mariah Hamilton and now it was included in her photo-album as the tenth photograph. Her mother had been glad when she came home and declared that her daughter looked better than she had in years.

"There's a new serenity about you, Kathryn..."

Yes, she did feel serene, at peace at last. Her days at home were spent pottering about in the back-garden coaxing her tomato plants to grow faster and generally absorbing the restfulness of her home. She spent quiet times just walking through the estate, visiting old haunts of her childhood days. She hadn't heard from Chakotay, but exalted in the knowledge that one day, he would come.

So it was that  she showed no surprise when he appeared in the distance, trudging through the snow. She had been filled with a quiet confidence that he would come. They had had no contact since the day they both touched the urn and she had left him outside the Exhibition Suite. It was by tacit agreement that whatever needed to be done by him, there be closure first. She put her book down, walked to the small foyer where she put on a pair of boots, slipped into them and donned a thick anorak. Although she appeared calm as she opened the front door and stepped onto the porch, her heart sang with joy.

She tried to run, her movement hampered by the deep snow that had fallen steadily through the night. Did Chakotay stand still? She didn't know. She just had to reach him.

"Chakotay!"

The next moment she fell down, right in front of him.

Chakotay bent down and pulled her up very gently that tears sprang to her eyes. He looked so beloved, so free of strain, so...free.

"Shall the goddess kneel before the worshipper?" he asked as he pulled her into his arms.

"I love you, Chakotay," she said, her voice muffled against his thick hooded jacket.

He held her away from him, smiled his beloved dimpled smile. The smile was for her, for her alone, she marveled. She trusted him implicitly. If he were standing there, he was a free man, at last appropriating for himself the right to tell her of his love, to kiss her, to marry her... The shadows were gone...gone...

"My love...my life... I worship you, Kathryn..."

He lifted her in his arms and she clung to him, her arms clamped round his neck. All the time he carried her, he looked at her. Then a sob broke from her as she buried her face against him again. Not once did he stumble, his feet finding her own footprints in the snow unerringly as he walked with her, holding her protectively until he reached the porch of the house.

She was home at last. Home...

It came from a distance, the calling of her name. Kathryn awoke from her gentle reverie when she heard his voice.  It was followed by a kiss on her lips. She gave a moan of satisfaction, wormed deeper under the covers and pressed herself into a warm body. But Chakotay pulled the cover away from her face and smiled down at her, a twinkle in his eyes.

"I was carrying you home again, Kathryn..."

"How can I deny it? It was the most romantic thing you did that day."

"So you keep telling me..."

He kissed her again, this time a lingering caress. When he broke it off, the teasing smile returned though his eyes were very tender as they rested on her.

"Are you going to get up, Kathryn?"

"Do I have to?"

"Yes, you do. We're on Ketarcha, remember? It is almost midday. The condors are circling over the canyon, we have to meet Amyal Pravin who wants to ask us a very important question and we have to - "

Kathryn threw the covers off and hurled herself against him. She clung convulsively to him, feeling how his arms encircled her, comforted by his strength and his love.

"I am so happy..."

"So am I, my goddess of virtue. So am I."

*****************************

Luca and Loraine Baricchi

Some notes: The songs mentioned here are the Whitney Houston rendition of "When you believe" from the soundtrack of "Prince of Egypt" and the Charlotte Church/Josh Groban rendition of "The Prayer". Though I don't like Groban much, it was Charlotte's voice that captured my imagination when picturing Kathryn and Chakotay do the dance.

Luca and Loraine Baricchi won every major professional Ballroom Championship in 1999 and 2000.

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