PART
TWO
He
felt cold inside. He looked at their faces; they were blurs mostly, yet he knew
he wasn't crying. There were no tears in his eyes. He hadn't felt any since he
left sickbay. Instead, the cold had gripped him and refused to leave, even when
so many crew stood around him and he could feel the warmth on their breaths when
they shared with him an anecdote, or just the body heat that sprang from their
nearness. Their sympathetic
glances, their compassion which in the circumstances should have produced some
energy within him, whether from anger or just accepting their commiserations,
did nothing. It just left him cold.
Maybe
that was Tom Paris standing on the other side of the torpedo casing, and
B'Elanna stood next to him. Why shouldn't she? They were together, weren't they?
They were happily married, weren't they? Was that Noah Lessing standing near
someone - Tuvok - or was it the other way round? It had to be Noah. The man was
as tall as a California redwood. Chakotay heard them - voices that sounded
strained, compassionate, sympathetic.
And he
didn't hear them. They were distinct and indistinct at the same time, hushed in
their reverence of the occasion.
Only
one voice sounded clear, untainted by the day's events. No hint of sorrow or
compassion. For one brief, mad moment he wanted to kill Kathryn Janeway for
sounding as if it were just another day in the life of a starship captain. How
could she sound so cool, so collected when he felt like dying himself? Inside
him, for one whole day, his world was turned upside down. Pain was not a red-hot
poker that drove mercilessly threw his body. It was not a thousand screaming
banshees in his head that terrorised him and made him aware that he was alone.
It was
just cold. He was afraid of it. The brief moment of madness temporarily allowed
in some warmth, but it was gone, too soon. The captain's voice droned on.
"We
imagine we are invincible, only to be confronted with our own mortality when
facing imminent death," he heard her say, her voice coming from a long way
off, yet boring into his brain. "Even the strongest among us must pay
homage to a power greater than us, an unstoppable destiny as it chooses to take
away at will, with little regard for rank or creed or sex or age..."
He
remembered Seven's words to him one night when they had an argument.
"I
am Borg, Chakotay. I am in control of my destiny... I'm going to live a long
time..."
The
torpedo casing stood in the centre of the lounge - stark, silent witness, cradle
to the body of Seven of Nine who thought that she was invincible.
"And
so we pay our last respects to Ensign Dillinger and Seven of Nine," Kathryn
Janeway said in her clear, cool voice. "They have been valued crew on this
vessel. We shall miss them..."
After
that, Tom Paris spoke, and Harry Kim said something. Someone played a lonely
tune on an oboe. Was it Nicoletti?
The tune was haunting, a lost melody, chords that floated about the quiet
observation lounge.
How
long was it after the tune played and Kathryn had given the order for the
transport of the coffins to the shuttle bay? It seemed an eternity.
Chakotay
watched as everyone turned to face the viewports of the observation lounge.
Silently,
like a derelict drifting in space the two torpedoes carrying the bodies of Seven
of Nine and Ensign Dillinger headed on their unerring journey for their final
resting place.
"Into
the sun I go,
when
my last breath from me shall flow."
Noah's
deep voice resonated in the lounge as he read the poem.
He
heard Seven's voice, impassioned, happy, confident...
"She'll
look like you, Chakotay..."
"Nonsense,
babies always resemble their mothers."
"And
it will be a good thing?"
"Naturally.
I'll look at our little girl and think of you."
"I'm
very happy, Chakotay."
"Are
you still going on the away mission?"
"Nothing
will happen."
"I
need my wife and daughter."
"You'll
have them back. It's a routine inspection. Nothing can go wrong."
Chakotay
gave a small cry, looked distraught around him and when his eyes met those of
Kathryn, connected in a timeless capsule in which he knew she saw into the
deepest parts of him. Hands stiffly at his sides, he turned suddenly and strode
out of the observation lounge.
*****
Kathryn
Janeway pressed his chime twice before she heard a low, hoarse 'enter'.
Chakotay's cabin was at very low illumination, almost totally dark as she
stepped inside. She waited a few seconds for her eyes to adjust, realising that
he wasn't going to help her.
Dimly
she became aware of his silhouette as the porthole came into view. She moved
closer and stood about a metre away from him. He sat hunched, as he did earlier
in sickbay. She couldn't see his face, and again she noticed how he clenched and
unclenched his hands.
"Look
at me, Chakotay," she commanded softly.
It was
tense moments later that he finally looked up. He didn't look any better than he
had in sickbay or at the memorial service. Chakotay needed time, time he could
ill afford to grieve silently and privately. It was the legacy of their
precarious existence in the Delta Quadrant. They could package their sorrow and
every now and then only, when time allowed, open it and wallow for precious
seconds until eventually, pain became dimmer and dimmer, leaving only scar
tissue that occasionally, when it was cold, thought to remind the body and the
mind that once, he was a happy man.
"What
do you want."
"I'm
putting you on leave for two weeks, Chakotay."
"You
can't do that - "
"I
can and I have." Kathryn looked around her, thinking to see a corner of the
cabin prepared for the baby. She had not been in Chakotay's quarters since he
and Seven married. Now, it appeared empty, devoid of warmth. "Chakotay,
have you made any preparations at all for Carina?" she asked suddenly,
realising why it looked so empty.
"The
crib...it's in the cargo bay. I finished it..."
"Good.
Get it in here. In a few days Carina will have to room in with you, my
friend."
"No..."
Kathryn
sat down next to him and touched his shoulder. He didn't flinch this time and
she gave a tight little smile. The situation was dire. Carina needed attention,
and the father was too wrapped up in his grief to pay attention.
"Look,
I realise you miss Seven very much, but your duty is with the little one. You're
to get up and go to sickbay and take charge of Carina. She has only you. Your
bridge and other duties will be shared during this period. It's an order. "
"That
the Captain speaking?"
"Yes."
"And
- and my friend?"
That
gave Kathryn hope. He looked eager for once.
"I
beg you, Chakotay. There's a little baby, too small to understand that her
mother has died, who is going to need all the love you have in you. She's the
most beautiful angel in the universe. When you see her, you cannot but want to
wrap her in those big hands of yours and hold her to you..."
"I..."
"Please..."
"Carina...does
she look like her...mother?" he asked softly, and Kathryn thought she saw a
glint of pride in his eyes. The flash was gone quickly, but the way his body
primed itself, she knew he was expecting confirmation.
"Yes...yes,
she does, Chakotay. You should go and see for yourself..." She could have
bitten her tongue off the way Chakotay's face suddenly creased the moment the
words were out. Carina's birthday coincided with the death of Seven.
He looked visibly pale as he struggled to compose himself.
"I'm
not on my best behaviour, Kathryn... I'm sorry..."
"No
need to apologise. Look, the crew will help you take care of Carina. We'll draw
up a roster for you, if that's okay."
Chakotay
remained quiet for a long time, time in which Kathryn kept stroking his
shoulder, hoping he would find solace in her presence, in her fervent plea. He
was hurting so badly, and she... She wondered how she could reach him. He gave a
wan, tired smile that hardly reached his eyes.
"I'll
go tomorrow - "
"Now."
"No
- no...it's - look, give me time, Kathryn.."
"You
don't have time."
"Please."
"Tomorrow,
then. That's an order, Commander."
****
At
0700 the next morning, Chakotay exited the turbolift on the bridge to the
surprised lift of an eyebrow from Tuvok. Harry Kim gave a little gasp. Chakotay
took no notice of them, his eyes going instinctively to the bridge rail behind
the command chairs. He shook his head, walked briskly to the lower level and sat
down next to Kathryn Janeway.
Tom
turned and frowned.
"Commander,
I thought - "
"You
thought nothing, Paris. Keep your eye on the screen," Chakotay bit out.
When
Kathryn had recovered sufficiently from her surprise to see Chakotay calmly
taking his seat next to her, she felt the warmth suffusing her face.
"Commander,
to my ready room. Now," she hissed softly. Then she rose and walked quickly
away from him.
Chakotay
shrugged and followed seconds later. He gave Tuvok a pointed look before the
doors closed behind him.
"What
is the meaning of this, Commander?" Janeway asked, her voice quivering
slightly. He could see the angry flashes, the flushed cheeks. Closing himself
off from feeling anything, he shrugged again.
"I
came on duty, Kathryn. What's wrong with that?"
"A
day after Seven died and your baby was born? I gave you a two week period of
leave, Commander. Compassionate as well a family responsibility leave..."
"I
must do something. I - "
"Have
you been to sickbay at all, Commander?" she cut in. He had time to notice
how she stood in her old, familiar pose: hands on the hips.
"No."
"You
should have been there. It's your - "
"I
don't have to be reminded of my duty, Captain."
"Well
then, so help me, what are you doing here?"
"My
duty."
"Your
duty in this time, which by the way, I've given you, is with your newborn baby,
Commander. You have leave. Make use of it. If you don't, I'll have the Security
team carry you to sickbay."
"There's
nothing - "
He
watched how her eyes closed. How could he tell her he couldn't bring himself to
walk into sickbay without thinking of Seven and how she lay so quiet in death?
How could he tell her?
"Tell
me, Chakotay..." Kathryn said as she walked round the desk to stand in
front of him. "Believe me, I know what you're going through and I know it's
very hard for you. But right now, there's a little baby girl waiting for her
Daddy to touch her hand, to connect with her. You have to focus on those who are
left behind..."
"I
- I c-can't, Kathryn," he stammered, an image of his hands lacing through
blonde hair causing him to frown furiously. Seven's hair... He couldn't look at
the baby... If he did...
"You
can't look at her," Kathryn whispered, and it shocked him that she could
read his thoughts so correctly. "But Chakotay, at some point and it must be
soon, you must take your baby home with you. Carina is your
responsibility..."
"I
know..." he conceded finally, tired suddenly of thinking, welcoming the
cold that wouldn't leave him. Last night he slept in his bed, alone for the
first time in three years. What did Kathryn know? He needed Seven... He
needed her or he'd go mad...mad...
"Then,
as your friend, not your Captain, Chakotay, I'd like to help. In fact, you will
have a lot of help..."
He
nodded, too mute this time to reply. Kathryn reached up, her palm cupping his
cheek. They had always done that, eons ago. They were friends, best friends...
How many times had she done that before he married Seven? How many times did she
touch him and make the gesture an indelible imprint on his memory? Now, the
touch of her hand... It was tinged with softness, kindness, compassion...
He
didn't want to remember...
Within
seconds, he fled the ready room and strode like a drunken man to the turbolift.
*****
End Part two