PART NINETEEN:  OSIRIS'S FEATHER

Kathryn's heart burned with fierce pleasure as she saw Icheb running towards her. Judging by his tears, his wide smile, and the way his arms opened to enfold her in a suffocating hug, at least one man in her life was happy to see her. Despite the cold, despite the intense conflict that had raged since she left Earth for Ketarcha Prime, despite her constant guilt about leaving Ethan and Icheb, despite Chakotay who had begged her to stay and despite the great affection she felt for his little girl - she was glad to be home. Icheb's reaction alone made up for everything.

Even if Ethan never accepted her back in his life, she was happy that she had made a decision that was for her and her alone. In that, she had been glad that she did go to Ketarcha Prime. She needed to find herself, needed to be with Chakotay, to come to important decisions about her life and her future. It was a decision that meant pain for one and joy for the other, and however difficult it was for her, it did settle within her at last a great sense of peace and homecoming.

When she wriggled against Icheb, he relaxed his grip, holding her a little away from him, though not breaking contact. He looked so tall and attractive, so stripped of his usual composure as he smiled a quivering smile. Kathryn thought she had never seen him quite so emotional.

"I'm so sorry, Icheb, that I didn't say goodbye to you," she said, her throat thick with emotion.

"Everything is forgiven. My friends' faith was greater than my own. They knew you would return. It is I who should seek pardon." 

She smiled tenderly, her palm cupping his cheek.

"You are more human than the humans, Icheb, and far more generous."

"Is it what they call closure? That you went to Ketarcha Prime and found it there?"

Again, she marvelled at his intuition, nodding in agreement.

"That was exactly it."

"Then you would have been distracted from finding it had you come to say goodbye to me. You would not have left and you would never have found rest."

"I know, son. It doesn't lessen my guilt, but I am comforted that you understand. Thank you..."

Then her eyes went past Icheb, to the hospital where Ethan lay. She breathed in deeply as her gaze met Icheb's again. His eyes were smiling and it elicited a similar response from her, too.

"Mom...go easy on him, okay?"

"Icheb?"

"I love you and I know you love me as your son. You will never change towards me and that is my assurance that you will always be there for me. I - "

Icheb paused, turned his head in the direction of the hospital, then faced her again. She frowned. He cleared his throat.

"We had words..."

His expression was priceless. He looked almost comical in his distress at having fought with Ethan. As if he could never imagine that it was entirely human to fight with one's parents or come off second best. Icheb didn't look as if he'd come off second best and his eyes showed it. He hated hurting Ethan.

"He loves you, Icheb."

"I know. But please, go to him. He…needs you, Mom. I'll be okay." Icheb gave a broad grin. "Very okay, now that you're back."

Quite impulsively, Icheb kissed her on her cheek. Then he fled down the path she had just walked.

Kathryn turned to look at Icheb's retreating figure. He had been overjoyed to see her, yet his concern was for Ethan. They'd had words; it must have been intense for Icheb to have run out as he did.

When he finally vanished from sight, she turned towards the hospital building, giving a sigh of trepidation at the prospect of facing Ethan.

Only the truth, unvarnished, however painful and raw it might be, would be good enough. Ethan had the right to know from her own mouth, a verbal testimony of everything that had happened, of her decision and why, in circumstances that were difficult in the extreme to withstand, she had to say what she had come to tell him. Not only that, she felt he deserved to know her feelings, even if the prospect of his rejection was as hard to swallow now as it had been the past few weeks. It was what had kept her from contacting him, a fear that ate into her that he might show her the door.

I've come this far. I'm not turning back...

As she walked towards the hospital, to Ethan who, judging by Icheb's total surprise, wasn't expecting her, her thoughts went to Chakotay, his little girl, his deceased wife and his request. Chakotay had been very persuasive and the offer had been more than tempting.

"I'll make it very difficult for you to leave, Kathryn," Chakotay had said where they were standing on the platform that jutted from the edge of the great canyon of Ketarcha's first city. It had reminded her of Earth's Grand Canyon.

"I came here to offer you comfort, to stand by my friend in need. You know that."

Chakotay's eyes had darkened. She sensed his thoughts, sensed his intention. He had been distraught at Seven's death. His little daughter had cried herself to sleep almost every night since Seven died. Kathryn had spent most nights sitting with Katie until the child fell into a restless sleep. Then when she got up to leave the room, she'd find Chakotay staring at her almost guiltily.

"And I know that you still feel something for me," he retorted.

He had stood there, his words a challenge to her, wanting her to refute them.

How could he know what she felt? They had grown apart, and that had been the first shock in her evolution away from Chakotay. It had been so hard letting him go, letting go, that those nights she dreamed of him, it was always that he'd leave his wife and take her back. Now, he stood on the platform facing her, the sorrow subdued after two months. It had surprised her that he could so quickly find closure on Seven's death. He still missed her, Kathryn knew, but it was a longing that was tinged with... Kathryn sighed. It was wrong of her to think, to imagine she had sensed it at all. She wished she had been mistaken in her intuition, for intuition did sometimes fail to produce the correct presumption. He had relocated to Ketarcha in the first place because he felt he needed to put distance between them, because she, his former love, still distracted him.

A week after her arrival, Chakotay had caught her in his arms after she had finally managed to tuck little Katie in. The child had been fractious, weepy, and Kathryn had sung to her old lullabies her own mother had sung to her as a small child. When she moved away from the cot at last, sighing with relief that Katie was finally sleeping soundly, it was to knock right into Chakotay who had entered the room quietly.

Without a word, he had kissed her. It was a searing kiss that wanted to determine, to detect, to supplant, to entrench his ownership of her, to prove to her that her feelings for him had never changed. She had fought him, pushed him violently from her and warned him that such behaviour left very little of their friendship intact. He was desecrating his wife's memory, she had told him in low, angry tones because they were standing in the sleeping baby's room. Chakotay had looked guilty for perhaps two minutes before he apologised and strode quickly out of the room.

Dazed by the realisation that his kiss left her cold, she had sat down in the rocking chair he had made for Seven, tears flowing down her cheeks at the knowledge that she had just lost something very precious to her.

She had been friendly over the next few days, caring for the toddler until he could find a child minder to take care of her during the day when he was working. He had been civil towards her and only on one or two nights, when he had cried out in his sleep and she realised he had had a nightmare, had she gone to sit with him. She had held his hand, offered solace, wanted to cry when he cried for his dead wife. In the morning, he was embarrassed by his behaviour and then she'd spontaneously hug him and tell him he was only human.

She cared about him. Only, the stunning realisation that she could no longer love him, that he was now just the friend, the close friend who had been her first officer in their seven year long journey home, was all that remained. 

That was all. Maybe there was even less of that and it saddened her, filling her with a sense of mourning for something that had passed, that she would never have again.

She had dreamed of Ethan often and felt over and over the shame of leaving him in the way that she did, with no hope of returning home to him. But, she sighed, he had never told her that he loved her, and that last utterance of his in his lounge had sounded so cynical, she was reminded again of the early Ethan who dismissed even his own life as irrelevant, except for his art.

Her heart had ached for Chakotay, for his efforts to once again woo her into his life and his bed.

"I know that men often need women in their lives," she had told him. "They fear loneliness, they fear not having a companion, one who would be in their beds as well as make them, Chakotay."

"You are more than that, you know that. You are far more than that! I love you," he had uttered passionately. Overhead, she had heard the cry of a bird and she had wondered idly if there were larks singing near Beaver's Lodge.

"I cannot deny what you think you still feel for me…"

"I don't think. Look, I loved Annika. We had a very special bond, Kathryn, one that - "

"Also," she continued, not waiting for him to finish his sentence, "some relationships exist and thrive on the physical."

"We had that yes, nothing more. I need more, need what only you can give me, Kathryn. Now, I'm the one crying for fulfilment. I hunger for you."

She had thought how his words exposed his selfishness. 

"Your wife has just died."

"That's a harsh reminder of my state, but I know that my love for you is as strong as it was when we were on New Earth."

He had to bring up New Earth, their Paradise, their special Idyll. But Paradise and Idyll had a way of fading, of passing, leaving nothing of it behind except sweet memories.

"You cannot forget Annika so quickly - "

"I will never forget her. She is Katie's mother. She will always be in a corner of my heart. But Kathryn, it was you who came and comforted me and told me how things must pass. All things pass and my hurt and sadness have lessened. Now I tell you that I need you. I cannot deny it, have never denied it. I loved two women. Annika knew and we came here so that I could give her the full measure of my love for her. It was beautiful and it was bountiful. But my heart still yearns for you…"

"You fear being alone. You want me just so you don't have to be alone."

"Even Katie loves you, you know that."

"Chakotay..."

"Kathryn, marry me, please. I will make it good for us. It used to be good. I know you have Bellamy, but..."

"Yes, I have Bellamy. What of that?"

"I know you can love me again."

"Again?"

She had sounded aghast, astonished at his casual dismissal of her relationship with Ethan.

"Yes. Please, I cannot be alone again."

And then Chakotay had gone down on his knees, there on the platform overlooking Ketarcha Prime's greatest canyon, where the Ketarchan condors lived, their cries echoing in the depths and in the heights. Chakotay had gone down on his knees, his eyes full of love for her. He had taken her hand in his and when he spoke, his voice was soft, insistent, encouraging and pleading, all at the same time.

"Chakotay…"

"Marry me, Kathryn."

*

Now, Kathryn drew in a deep breath as she stepped into the foyer of Starfleet Medical. Strange how she had been in a hurry to come home after her decision was made! It had been only yesterday - the day they'd found Ethan - when she had received the message of the accident. She'd already made up her mind that she would face Ethan and brave his wrath, his cynicism, his rejection... Icheb had hailed her on subspace to inform her that Ethan had plunged down a ravine on the Coniston Peaks. Ethan, who had broken both legs in three places, one arm in two places, cracked several ribs, cracked open his skull and lived.

Ethan whom, Icheb had said, had called her name in his delirium.

Ethan to whom she must tell of her answer to Chakotay's proposal of marriage.

*********

Kathryn breathed deeply again as the door to Ethan's room opened and she stepped inside. He was standing near the window and she realised that he must have seen her arrival, must have seen her reunion with Icheb. Sighing, she watched as he turned to face her.

He looked haggard. There were dark smudges under his eyes. He had lost weight. His hair had grown longer in the two months that she had been gone. He had a two-day old stubble. His eyes had lost the sharpness, the alertness that always made her so aware of him. There was a droop to his mouth that was so uncharacteristic that she wanted to rush to him and wrap her arms round him and soothe his brow. If he had had his old familiar, cynical appearance, she could have dealt with that, because that Ethan she could handle and challenge.

Not this broken man before her.

"Ethan…"

"Have you come to gloat?" he asked in a hollow voice.

"No."

"Why are you here?"

"Because I want to be?" she said, her voice a question more than a statement.

"You made your feelings very clear."

"What I made clear, Ethan, was that I needed to make a few decisions - "

"That wasn't what you said. He needed you, he needed you by his side and if I'm not mistaken, probably back in his bed."

His words struck like daggers into her. How could she deny that she had said Chakotay needed her?    

"You're very bitter. I can't blame you for feeling like that, Ethan. I'm not proud of the way I left you behind - "

"I'm collateral damage, Kathryn, didn't you know? Someone must be left behind…You left Icheb behind. He didn't deserve it…"

"Perhaps if I explained,"  she started lamely, a far cry from the boldness she thought she would have. Ethan rubbed in her guilt.

"He under-performed, Kathryn. He's never done that before…"

Ethan cursed under his breath, then walked back to sit on the bed. He rubbed his temple and she realised that the prolonged standing had tired him. He had suffered a concussion and, knowing Ethan, he had probably demanded that Doctor Paris not treat him for his headaches. 

"There's something I need to tell you," she said, walking up to him, but his hand gestured for her to stop.

"If you came here only to walk away again, Janeway, I don't want to hear it."

"You're going to have to hear it, whether I walk from here or not. You're stronger than that, Bellamy," she bit out, instantly remorseful for hurting him more.

It was the last thing she wanted to do. She felt bad enough about Icheb. Their son had been right. If she had come to Icheb to say goodbye to him, then seeing him would have made her decide to say. Thinking about it now, she realised that that was what she would have done. Icheb was innocent; he had no part in her argument with Ethan. She would not have gone to Ketarcha Prime then, and subsequently, she knew with sudden insight, she might never have found closure on Chakotay. Closure was what she needed.

A few seconds she waited, the air heavy with tension, with anticipation. Ethan's eyes glowed darkly with fear and anger.

"Whatever strength I had was spent making peace with the fact you were never coming back. Leave me with some dignity. Go, don't come back..."

"You are determined to punish me."

"I am determined to save myself!" he snapped.

Despite the fear she felt, the way his words stabbed at her and made her want to leave like he suggested, she knew she had to press forward. He was hurting like hell and he was letting her feel the full fury of that hurt. For a moment she hesitated, thinking about leaving anyway. But she was no quitter and she had made up her mind that she was going to face the consequences of his reaction. She was no longer on Voyager, no longer the commander in charge of any situation in the Delta Quadrant. But she was a woman in love with a man who stood before her, a man who believed she would walk away again.

This was her life and her very existence and she was going to fight for it. Her strength and resolve filled her as she moved slowly towards Ethan. She saw in his eyes the battle between fear, anger and need. Kathryn waited for the storm to finish its raging. Endless seconds she stood, poised to flee from the room or to rush into his arms. Then, when the fear disappeared and the anger abated and only need was left, she stepped against him, her arms enfolding his emaciated frame.

Ethan gave a groan as his own arms, at first hesitant, then crushing, framed her body. She gave a moan of pleasure as she rested her head against his chest. He felt so familiar, so beloved that her eyes welled with tears. She was back in Ethan's arms. The feeling of peace that infused her whole being was overwhelming, a giddy rush through her body. But her sense of homecoming was short-lived as Ethan gripped her shoulders and held her away from him so that she had to look up into his face. The anger was back in his eyes.

"Say what you have to say, Kathryn, and be done with it. I have survived before. I will survive again - "

"What?"

"Don't prolong my pain, sweetheart," he said, the endearment slipping from him. He groaned as he pulled her face against him again. "God...don't..."

She broke the contact between them; then gazing deeply into his eyes, she pushed him back gently so that he lay against the pillows. There was a chair for her to sit on, but on an impulse, she joined him on the narrow bed and nestled against him, forcing him to shift so that she could lie in his arms. Ethan, his body rigid at first, became soft as he relaxed. He gave a soft moan she pulled the cover over them. Sighing, she pressed closer to him and again she marvelled at the way he held her to him.

"Only so you don't have to fall off the bed and blame me for the inconvenience," he muttered.

For the first time since she'd entered the room, she smiled. It was going to be alright, she realised, feeling the new happiness bubbling inside her. She had been so afraid... She felt bolstered, ready to tell him about everything that had transpired on Ketarcha Prime between her and Chakotay, ready to share with him her heart.

"You were right, Ethan," she started softly, "about Chakotay. You were always right. I have been a fool many times over."

She hid her joy when a deep sigh escaped Ethan, and she felt his lips against her hair. Her hand rested on his chest and her eyes closed when his own hand covered hers. He squeezed her hand tightly and she realised how tense he was, even if his body felt relaxed against her.

"Tell me how I can be right, Kathryn, and deliver me from my misery…"

There was a long pause. She raised her face to his, briefly kissed his cheek before snuggling against him again.

"He asked me to marry him."

"To warm his bed." 

"Yes," she sighed. "To warm his bed, to be a mother to little Katie, to be his constant companion. He still loves me…"

"I know. You and Seven of Nine were two parts that completed him," Ethan conceded. "One the physical and the other the more spiritual, perhaps. What did you tell him?"

"I told Chakotay that I didn't love him anymore. I told him that I stopped loving him a long time ago. He…insisted that my feelings for him hadn't changed, that I would agree to marry him and remain with him on Ketarcha Prime…" Another short pause. "Ketarcha Prime is a very beautiful place. It is easy to see why Chakotay chose that planet to settle. I comforted him, offered him the solace he needed, cared for the baby too. I think he thought it would be easier to convince me to stay given the fact that I did make it all the way to Ketarcha to be with him."

"But?"

"My eyes opened finally, Ethan," she said, her eyes filling with tears. "It wasn't that I wanted to pay him back because he wasn't there when I needed him. It wasn't that, you know. I just realised…" Her throat became thick, the words too difficult to mouth.

Ethan caressed her cheek, brushed her hair away from her face.

"I realised," she continued, stifling a sob, "that after all, I owed Chakotay nothing. We had a friendship, a beautiful one, Ethan. There wasn't a time on Voyager that I couldn't count on him. He was always there, supporting me, fighting with me, loving me, owning me. I thought that such depths would never be negated by the sadness of change. I thought that my life was complete with him in it as the friend who would do anything for me, even die for me. I thought we had something that would never come to an end."

"Then, Kathryn? What happened?" she heard Ethan breathe the words against her hair.

"Homecoming happened. Too many things I had never factored into an equation for happiness. He married, I felt unfulfilled, he left for Dorvan, I was left alone and lonely, I guess. Then, you happened…"

"Homecoming…who would have thought."

"Yes. When I thought about it in the last few months, I was forced to face the fact that we were no longer in extraordinary circumstances, the kind of situations where we fed off one another's loneliness, where we shared our misery, our joy. Every time we fought the enemy, Voyager's crew formed a line of attack, and attacked as one body…."

"It's the way of prolonged missions in deep space," he said softly, turning so that he could gaze into her eyes. The haunting look was fading and it made her heart leap with elation.

"I know. We no longer had to fight a common enemy; we no longer had to cling together and fight as one. Voyager was over, and so the dire circumstances were no longer there. We drifted naturally, each one to his or her own families, new lives, new circumstances…everything. Even for me."

"Even for you?"

"I told Chakotay I couldn't marry him. I told him that I didn't want to marry him, even if his knees were sealed to the platform over the canyon. I told him that I'm not sorry for saying those words, for I had told him before of my feelings. I told him…" 

Kathryn sighed, clung to Ethan and buried her face against him for several heady moments and wept for a few seconds. It was the way Chakotay had dismissed her feelings for Ethan that finally, irrevocably, opened her eyes.

It was over, she realised. All the tension, the way she had to fight Chakotay off, his insistence that she still loved him and finally, dealing with his disregard of her feelings, of her as a person, respecting her and respecting her wishes. That alone had hurt her so deeply that she had had difficulty trying to reconcile the man on his knees on Ketarcha with the man who had lived with her on New Earth and who did everything for her. Ethan was right. When men fought, they didn't  take any rules into account and that was the way Chakotay fought for his happiness and a future he hoped would include Kathryn Janeway.

"What did you tell him, Kathryn?"

Suddenly agitated, Kathryn got up from the bed and walked over to the window. From there, she could see the path where Icheb had run towards her. She rubbed her arms, although it wasn't cold inside the room. Outside snow had begun to fall - flakes that drifted aimlessly to earth. She wondered where Icheb had gone to, wondered suddenly about his words, that he and Ethan had had an argument. Sometime, when the time was right, she would hear about it from Icheb. Or Ethan... Turning, she saw that Ethan was sitting up too, though he didn't move from the bed to join her.

"I told him how a man found me near to dying on his property and brought me back to life. I told him how that man became my anchor in a raging sea of darkness and how I clung to that anchor. I told him how an Angry Warrior would once have done for me what Ethan Bellamy had done then and what Ethan Bellamy is doing now. I told him that I'd made my peace that Angry Warrior was no longer a part of my life, a part of me."

Kathryn drew in a deep breath. She saw Ethan through a haze of tears, and she didn't have any conscious idea of how or when those tears came to fill her eyes and rolled unchecked down her cheeks.

"He destroyed you, Kathryn," she heard Ethan say.

"Yes. He did that. That day, he was on his knees begging me to marry him. Then I told him about you. I told him that Ethan Bellamy became my friend, my mentor, my lover, my..."

"What, sweetheart?"

"My beloved. I told him that I fell in love with Ethan Bellamy, that I love Ethan with my whole heart, and my mind and my soul."

There was another pause in which she struggled to control her emotions. But she remained steadfast, looking him directly in the eyes.

"Yes…I love you, Ethan." She felt a tear searing her cheek. "I love you. I fought it so hard in the beginning, thinking Chakotay would…" A painful sob escaped. "I have been foolish, all this time. I didn't think I could ever love anyone again, until you…stormed my defences, Ethan. Yes," she whispered softly, "yes, I love you. I am...at your mercy."

Her hands were trembling. She stood exposed. Not even in her hazy world of helpless depression when Ethan had undressed her and washed her and tended to her most basic needs had she felt so naked as she felt now. She felt weak, her defences completely gone.

She  would have fallen down perhaps if Ethan hadn't moved from the bed and caught her up in his arms.

Kathryn didn't know how long she stood there, held by him with so much tenderness. He stroked her hair, kissed her tears that wouldn't stop falling. Her body shook with the force of her weeping. Finally, when she could be calm again, she spoke.

"I've loved you for a long time," she repeated softly, soberly now. "I have no regrets leaving Chakotay on Ketarcha, leaving his adorable little daughter. I couldn't tie myself to an obligation, for if I had done so, I would not have lived. Even if you were never in my life, Ethan, I would still have said no to Chakotay. My reason for turning down his first proposal of marriage on Voyager was the same reason I turned him down again on Ketarcha Prime. I would only have been Kathryn, a warmer of his bed, a mother to his little girl."

"I'm glad you turned him down, honey. Knowing you, you would have remained unfulfilled..."

"And then I was in a great hu - "

"And how did he react to your response?" Ethan asked, breaking her train of thought.

"Forced to accept that I love you. Forever. Maybe he is in denial. It no longer matters to me. It was our friendship I mourned. Today he'll just be Chakotay, my former first officer.."

"Oh, Kathryn..." Ethan groaned as he pulled her to him again. "I despaired of ever hearing you say those words! It seems to me I have waited forever for you, long, long before I met you or even knew of you. I will forever live without peace, because you give me no peace. Maybe in time I will learn to like that feeling. I don't ever want to become complacent."

"Ethan?"

He held her away from him, but his hands were on her shoulders. The smile on his face faded as he became serious. Her heart pounded madly, it sang a wondrous song as she waited for him to speak.

"If you are not in my life, my beloved, I will self-destruct. I'm not particularly proud of feeling this vulnerable or this needy. And Kathryn, my darling, I am at your mercy and if mercy is all that you will give me, I await it with every single breath I take as long as I live. I love you so much that it's eating me up inside. I find myself completely, utterly rudderless and empty. Empty, you hear me? Please, please, take this hollow man and make him whole again..."

She threw herself against him. Ethan's hands were in her hair, holding her head so that he could lower his own, his mouth only millimetres away.

"I hungered for you," he whispered hoarsely before claiming her mouth in a deeply passionate kiss that burned her up. For several minutes, it was quiet in the room as she lost herself in Ethan's arms, the separation of two months, the pain and anger of their parting melting away as she rejoiced to be back in his arms again, loving him fiercely, proudly, forever.

Finally they broke the kiss. Kathryn could breathe again sensibly, looking at him with dazed eyes,

"I was afraid you would reject me," she told him. "That you would tell me you didn't feel the same. I prepared myself to hear the…worst," she said, giving a sob. "Then I'd have left you alone. I am humbled. You have given me a daunting task. I will love you always - "

"You'd better, Janeway," Ethan retorted gruffly, "if I'm to live to tell my grandchildren how long it took their grandmother to tell me how much she loves me."

He was tired, she thought, as he caught her up in his arms again. He needed rest.

"So," she started as she moved back to the bed, "is Ethan Bellamy going to tell me how he came to break so many bones in his body?"

Ethan's eyes widened in alarm and he drew in a sharp breath.

"How could I forget!"

"Forget...what?"

"Please tell Ethan he's a very forgetful man."

"You're a very forgetful man," she said, laughing.

He moved his hand under the pillow and retrieved a cylinder, one they used for drinking water. How couldn't she have felt it when she had lain next to him on the narrow bed? Ethan removed the cap and very gingerly took a feather from it. Kathryn frowned. It was about twenty centimetres long and the edge appeared a darker brown than the softer plumes at its base. A goose feather? she wondered.

"This. I went to get you this, sweet Kathryn," he said triumphantly.

"A feather?"

"Not just any feather. Remember you didn't want me to build you a temple or swim the deepest ocean - "

"Or tie a lasso round the moon?"

"Or even climb the highest mountain. I did climb a mountain, mind you…"

"Yes?" she asked him, in great wonder because Ethan's eyes had turned dark with emotion, his voice gruff.

"I broke most of the bones in my body to get you this, beloved."

"You went to great trouble..." she said in awe as she remembered the injuries listed in his medical report.

"An Egyptian goose flew over the mountains while I was climbing."

They were on an even level where she could look directly in his face

"To forget me," she said archly.

"Shut up, Janeway and pay attention."

"Kiss me first," she ordered him.

"They mate for life," he continued, after a very heady kiss, "but I guess you knew that. Only, this goose of the mountains - I called him Osiris - was flying alone and in distress."

She had turned cold at his words, understanding instantly and intuitively why the feather became important for him. Ethan was Osiris. Her guilt grew ten-fold and her remorse at hurting him intensified. Her eyes filled with tears.

"And because he would never find his mate again..." she said, her voice tinged with sadness, "you salvaged something from Osiris."

Ethan kissed her wet cheek, brushing away the tears with his lips. Her eyes closed at the reverent way in which he touched her.

"It was all I could do," he said softly, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I don't think I consciously thought of bringing it to you, or collecting it for Kathryn; I just had this unbelievable desire - stronger than anything that I have ever felt in my life - to reach the feather and to treasure it forever.  And then it was that I wanted to show you how deep my love is. So yes, my beloved, it's for you..."

"And you wrote a poem?" she asked, her voice breathy, her heart hammering in the anticipation of hearing his words...

"Only you would know, but I haven't written it down…yet. It's here," he said, indicating with a forefinger against his temple.

"For me…"

High above the cliffs of Coniston

the mountain goose a plume unsheathed -

with might it pulled my heart to you…

I send this plume as gift, my dearest,

and saying that my love is deep,

my all, my soul for you to keep…

Ethan's voice always arrested her. It changed with his emotions. No doubt it happened with many people, but in Ethan the changes were subtle, almost undetectable. She felt a deep, magical pleasure that she alone, perhaps, could determine his mood simply by listening to his voice. When he was at his cynical worst, the syllables inflected differently, the shift so slight it was hardly noticeable. During the nights when she had woken up distressed, he'd come to sit with her and read to her from his latest novel. Kathryn thought that his voice then was so calm and filled with solace that it was impossible to reconcile it with the man who, only hours before, had been hard and brusque. She loved it when he read to her, for it was his voice that drew her.  There was a silkiness, a fluency that was so apparent she could listen to him read forever.

That was Ethan.

He recited the poem about his ragged hike in the mountains and his sight of the doomed Osiris. It seemed each word that left on his breath and was introduced to the world was born in that moment, instinctively given birth to, full of an impact that had never been chiselled into order or sculpted into beauteous shape. They just were...perfect.

So the words fell from his lips - smooth, fluent, bursting with meaning, with portent, throbbing with intensity. Ethan stood there and it was as if simple, aching thought was given life. Did great poets do that? Were the words simply beautifully modulated sounds that became an expression of what he felt? Not about Osiris, but about Ethan? Her?

Long before he finished, her head had fallen against his chest. They were quiet, the words of his poem still echoing in the stillness of the room. Was it the very air that moved as their hearts beat in unison? She couldn't remember.

She looked up finally, gazed into his eyes that were wet, wet...

"You love me..." the words fell from her lips in great wonder. "I can see your soul..."

His throat worked as he struggled to speak. Did Ethan cry?

"I see your soul, my beloved. I saw it that day you lay on the damp ground in winter, sick to the bone, and I saw your soul..."

Again there was a pause. She reached to kiss him, awed at this new Ethan, one she knew she was not going to see often. When she finally broke contact, she took his hands in hers.

"Take me home, Ethan. Take me to Beaver's Lodge..."

*************** 

They were back at Beaver's Lodge. Ethan had taken charge the minute she asked to return home with him. He had promptly threatened to discharge himself if Doctor Paris didn't do so instantly. But Kathryn had insisted that he be treated for his headaches, to which he reluctantly agreed, kissing her while Doctor Paris laughingly administered an injection. Osiris's feather had been placed back in the cylinder with the greatest of care. Ethan had promised he'd mount it for her to keep...

Until they were both too old to recognise it.

"I plan on growing old with you, Kathryn, if only to irritate the hell out of you for making me suffer like mad."

"Well, Bellamy," she replied, "I'll decrypt the codes to your stories and tell the whole world who you really are."

"Don't worry, Janeway. They'll only see me as the man who is insanely, utterly and irrevocably in love with the most beautiful admiral in the Federation. They'd have no choice but to disbelieve you."

It felt to Kathryn that the world had righted itself on its axis. All the uncertainty, her indecision, her decisions, her treatment of the men in her life had settled at last. She knew that there would be times in the future that they would experience this crisis or that life-altering decision, but it filled her with great certainty now that they would face it together.

Icheb had forgiven her, for she had been tearful in her remorse of her treatment of him.

Ethan… Ethan just loved her unconditionally.

She knew there would be times he'd be his old, acerbic self. He was probably always going to sip whisky in the early morning on an empty stomach. That wasn't going to change, for he thrived on it. She loved him all the more because of it. His need of her was all too clear, and it was an Ethan that was almost too painful to see. He had been vulnerable as he had never been before in his life and it afforded her the dubious honour of being the object of his vulnerability, the one thing that could destroy him or build him up.

She sighed contentedly next to the sleeping Ethan. They lay snuggled very close together under their insanely comfortable comforter. They had made love, dozed a little, made love again. Ethan couldn't get enough of her and she had missed him so intensely in the time that she had been away that she had given as much of herself as she could, and had taken as much as she could. She had been hungry, thirsty, and together they drank from their oasis and only when their rage had been slaked, did Ethan fall asleep.

It had been a time of revelation for them both. He had told her more of his climb and watching Osiris fly away in distress, the whole incident involving his quest for the feather. He told her how he had hoped the dogs' transponders would work and that help would arrive soon, because he was hallucinating. He had dreamed of her in the hours he waited for help, unable to move, in severe pain, drifting in and out of consciousness. She clucked in sympathy, then told him she'd sensed he was in pain and that she couldn't wait to get home. She had been going to hail him when she received Icheb's communication about the accident.

Shifting so that she could face him, she caressed his hair, his cheek, finding pleasure in charting his familiar features. His hair gleamed whiter, the lines of his face relaxed in sleep, free of the old stress. Her eyes stung with tears.

I shall never regret loving Ethan...

Now she lay in the darkness, reflecting on her life and Ethan's. He lay breathing evenly, and when minutes later he became agitated in sleep, moaning her name, she rose on her elbow and tried to comfort him.

Ethan woke with a start, his eyes wide and when they connected with hers, she knew that he had been dreaming, or had a nightmare. His eyes were luminous in the semi-dark, but she could see the stark, raw need in them.

"I dreamed…" he started.

"Yes."

Then, like once before, he gripped her hand tightly in his, to draw from her strength. She tried not to wince at the pain of his grip.

"Loneliness," he began, "is a void, like dying without a soul to restore you. I visited those dark vales once. Somehow, then, I knew my quest had not ended, that this wayfarer was still travelling in search of himself…" He was quiet for a long time before he spoke again. "I can't go back there again, to knowing that only a void awaits me…"

"Ethan…"  she whispered, her heart crying for him.

"Stay this night with me, Kathryn."

*************** 

Ethan had debated on whether to bring the cello down to the beach. In the end, Kathryn's persuasion had won the day and they had come down in the flitter, with the dogs excitedly bounding out the moment the hatch had opened.

"The dogs seem happy," she had said, as she watched them run off towards the water's edge.

"Of course. We haven't had them down here for a while."

"Did I have to bring an umbrella?"

"Kathryn…"

"And the deck chair. Ethan, you know I like - "

"You need to be comfortable. You might fall asleep, then the reclining back is easier - "

"I'm not a baby."

"I noticed."

"Therefore, I don't need the deck chair."

"Kathryn," he sighed, "humour me, will you?"

"Only because I love you so much."

"Now, I got this nice mohair rug - "

"Ethan!"

"Kathryn, please - "

"Yes, I'll humour you."

She had given him an icy glare. They had squared off, arguing over every issue that put her in a position of submission, or a sign that he protected her. He had given an inward sigh of relief when she relented, the fight leaving her eyes. He knew that look would soon be back, but for the short period that she was acquiescent, he had to jump in and stake his authority.

It was the last days of summer and for once, there was bright sunshine today, though it was still cool. He was glad for Kathryn's sake. Once she was reclining on the deck chair with the mohair rug over her legs, she didn't demur, grudgingly smiling her agreement that he had been right all along. Kathryn needed to be out in the sun again and soak up its healing warmth.

He had taken up a position on a bed of flat rock that formed part of the promontory which separated their favourite beach from the next. The dogs had been running about, though they never disturbed him, occasionally running back to Kathryn. They had prepared well, bringing food and water for the dogs and their own well-stocked picnic basket.

In the distance, Kathryn's figure appeared small. The umbrella shielded her while she read or rested. They had had lunch an hour ago and he had watched her surreptitiously for some reaction, but Kathryn, he discovered long ago, was a past master at playing her cards close to the chest. She wasn't saying anything, not even a whisper and he had been dying to know.

He had given her the manuscript of The Raging Moon, finished at last after many drafts, one draft that had Kathryn in tears one day when he announced that he was rewriting the story. Now, finally completed, he had made a copy, bound in soft leather, of the story. Its title was embossed in gold letters. He had given it to her to read like he had promised to do eons ago.

"Before publication?" she had asked that time.

"Before publication."

Now he was waiting for her to finish reading.

He had been playing scales and arpeggios for perhaps half an hour before he launched into Paganini and Elgar and Boccherini, immersing himself in the sounds of the cello in the open sea air. He was taking chances, he knew, by exposing the instrument to sea spray, but today was a day of celebration. Kathryn had finally recovered and she was reading The Raging Moon. And, he was dying to know her reaction.

The sun glinted on the gold band on his left hand and he smiled. Kathryn wore an identical band. Early in Spring, at the time of his former transformation, they sealed their union in the grounds of  Palings, the Paris property. Kathryn's little goddaughter, Michaela Ayala, and Miral Paris, Tom and B'Elanna's little girl, made the most engaging little flower girls. The two toddlers crept into everyone's heart with their antics. When he had asked Kathryn about the children during their preparations for their wedding, she had given him a narrow-eyed glare.

"It's not a wedding if there aren't children," Kathryn had said, and he had happily obliged. "I'm hoping to have one or two myself."

He had almost died again from the joy of hearing Kathryn's desires.

"T-Two…?"

"Though I won't be sad if I can't have them…" she had added. "Icheb will marry one day and have children and we'll have our grandchildren. Then their grandfather can shower all his love on them and teach them to play the cello. Maybe one of them will enter the Academy, or Juilliard, or both, then I can teach them quantum mechanics. Or you can teach them all about command track. Did you know there's a sweet young cadet interested in Icheb? Her name is Shaira Khan. James Rollins said something about Icheb shooting her to the moon in the Poison Dart - "

"Did I tell you you talk too much sometimes?" he asked her, completely bowled over by her enthusiasm and her obvious happiness.

"I'm merely compensating for my husband-to-be who seems to have lost his tongue."

"You know I feel very sorry for any young woman interested in our son. She'd have to contend with his admiral mother - "

"And writer father, cellist and Starfleet Commander, soon to be captain again..."

He had dreamed of seeing Kathryn happy at last, and in the days leading up to the wedding and their wedding day itself… He couldn't have asked for anything better. Her former crew accepted him and he had felt freer than he had ever felt before among people. Kathryn had glowed and his heart had ached with tenderness seeing how happy she was, how utterly beautiful she looked, taking his breath away. Kathryn had walked to him on the arm of Tuvok, one of her oldest friends and the captain of Voyager. It warmed his heart, seeing Kathryn so at home among her former crew again.

Icheb had walked around with a huge grin that day. He was scoring superbly in tests and earning top honours once again. He couldn't wait to own the Poison Dart with James Rollins as co-owner. Diego Ayala, Mike's eldest, followed them everywhere. Ethan smiled inwardly. The teenager had great role models in Icheb and James. The two cadets had been hard at work for their finals and had graduated with honours.

But the day of their wedding had been perfect for Kathryn, for them both. Admiral Paris had been the presiding officer and Phoebe, Kathryn's matron of honour.

Phoebe had taken up residence at the house in Indiana again, this time with her life partner, Rodea, a Bajoran woman who was a sculptor. Phoebe, who had once hated the house, but after the poignant reunion between the sisters, had finally decided to return to the place of her birth. It was good having Phoebe back in the family; it gave him a sense of family. He was blessed with a wife, a new sister-in-law and a son of whom he was proud.

A momentary sadness had filled him, for he missed his own sons. A large painting, done by Phoebe from a photograph of the boys, now graced the wall above the hearth in the lounge of Beaver's Lodge. It had been a gift from Kathryn. Rourke's serious look was a complete antithesis to the childish, impish look on Piers's face.

"We must acknowledge them, Ethan," Kathryn had said, and he hadn't known how to answer her except to wrap her in his arms and hold her until she couldn't breathe. Through Kathryn's gentle encouragement he had begun to look at holovids of the boys again, even those with the fey Mélisande present. It had been too much for him one day when he watched Rourke playing his cello, seeing again the pure determination on the boy's face as he bravely tried to play The Swan. Kathryn had come to sit next to him, not speaking a word, yet her presence was all he needed to restore him. Ethan had given her a grateful look. It was becoming easier, although he knew he'd never be free of the pain of losing his children.

At the wedding, he had been amazed at the generosity showered on them by the Parises, Phoebe and Rodea, and the Ayalas whom they both loved very much. He had himself become an honorary uncle to Mike's sons and little daughter Michaela, an adorable child who was the image of her mother. He had never been uncle or Uncle Ethan and he quite liked the feeling. After Mel and the boys and all his friends died, he had despaired of ever finding happiness again, of experiencing the fullness and joy of family.

Finally, he felt he belonged.

Kathryn's paintings were now all at Beaver's Lodge, in the room she had used before. He had removed one wall panel and replaced it with glass to allow maximum light whenever she worked. "The bed stays," she had said peremptorily when he wanted to discard it. Ethan smiled to himself. Kathryn had shown him just how right she was in letting the bed stay. She had made a commitment to live with him at Beaver's Lodge, for she loved the place.

"I don't think I have ever been happier anywhere else."

Once, Kathryn had told him that they would journey over hills and through valleys in their relationship, that all journeys came fraught with their own unique adversities. Ethan sighed. He loved Kathryn with the depth of all his soul, and during the past months, he'd discovered just how much he needed her in his life and how prophetic her words had been. He discovered how he could journey again to worlds of darkness, despairing that he would lose her.

Almost, almost he had lost Kathryn again.

Not to a man or a ship or a mission, but to a strange, debilitating illness that not only attacked her body, but her mind. After Icheb's finals, they had taken a short vacation. He had to round off the final draft of The Raging Moon, Kathryn wanted just to relax and unwind after a particularly stressful period of work at Headquarters, and Icheb to unwind from the rigours of his studies. Each one had short listed three designations and when they found one on two of the lists, had decided that Jarok, fifth planet of the Kundar System and a week's journey from Earth would be the perfect place to camp out.

Perfect.

They had returned home from their vacation on the USS Balshazzar commanded by Magnus Rollins. It was only when they were back on Earth that Kathryn had shown the first symptoms of her illness. She had gone into paroxysms, and then her hallucinations had begun.

Doctor Elizabeth Paris had attended to Kathryn and she had been forced to call in the assistance of Voyager's EMH who was on Jupiter working with his creator Doctor Zimmerman. Kathryn had languished at death's door during the time they waited for the EMH to arrive, while Doctor Paris could only stabilize her.

"She has been poisoned, Ethan," Doctor Paris had told him. "I've studied the plant life of Jarok and whittled it down to two of the planet's most innocuous looking rare plants. A brush against the hand was all it took..."

He remembered the day he and Kathryn had walked along a path through a forest. It was the last day of their vacation and they had taken one of their long walks. That was the only place it could have happened. Kathryn had thought nothing of it and only rubbed the back of her hand briefly.

She had almost died and it had taken weeks for her to claw back to life and health again.

He had gone to hell and dwelled in the dark abyss again, seeing the woman he loved almost slipping away from him. During her periods of hallucination, he was the hated Borg whom she didn't recognise as her husband. She spewed venom at him and Icheb, even Phoebe. When her body rested, they took turns keeping a vigil by her bedside. That had been after he had refused to leave Kathryn's side, braving her hatred, her anger, her lapses into morbid, tearful recriminations.

Many times she didn't recognise him. That had been the hardest.

It had been a dreadful time, for him and Icheb and Phoebe, and for Doctor Paris and the EMH. But Kathryn had rallied, her body so weak that he had to tend to her most basic needs again. Fortunately, that period lasted only two days and when Kathryn had her lucid moments, she had been as deeply embarrassed as she had been the first time when she had collapsed near Beaver's Lodge. 

During one of her moments of clarity, Kathryn, still deathly ill from the poisoning, took his hand, trying to lift her head.

"I know...what is happening to me, Ethan. When I'm...like that, I want you to know I love you..."

If he never had white hair before Kathryn's illness, he would have had them during that harrowing time.

Now, all he wanted to do was to protect her.

Ethan gave a soft sigh. Kathryn fought him tooth and nail on that issue. She didn't want him so protective and he couldn't help it. He had almost lost her and she looked so ill, so fragile still. She had recovered and was now recuperating. In a month's time she would take up duty again at Headquarters. Icheb had been given a commission on the USS Gainsbourg as a junior science officer, only too happy that James was serving on the same vessel.

The sun was going down and he had seen Kathryn get up from the deck chair to make her way slowly towards him. He stopped playing, packing away the bow and cello, carrying it carefully over the rocks to the sandy beach. Then he walked briskly in her direction, his heart throbbing in his throat, or so it felt to him.

For the first time in his life as an author, he had given someone a manuscript to read even before the publisher and editors got their hands on it. But he had promised Kathryn and now suddenly, he felt nervous about her reaction. If it had been any of his other novels he would have been filled with the normal confidence in his own craft, but this was Kathryn and the story was The Raging Moon, one he had changed midway to its current structure. He hadn't wanted to share parts of the story during the second phase of its writing, knowing what he knew and knowing that she might feel uneasy.

"In other words, you're waiting for something to happen?"

"In a manner of speaking. The Raging Moon is waiting for scenes to write themselves."

"Never heard of such bunkum."

He remembered that conversation as if it had taken place only minutes ago. Kathryn had stormed off later and he had berated her for being unable to keep Chakotay out of her mind.

Ethan looked at her as she approached him. Much healthier now but with a nip in the air, he wanted her to be so careful still. Kathryn had thrown the mohair over her shoulders, and he could see she hugged the manuscript to her bosom. He felt the old breathlessness coming on and the new feeling of apprehension of hearing her comment on his work.

He had taken a chance with The Raging Moon. Midway, he had changed the storyline, starting afresh as it were and discarding almost everything he had written up to that point. There had been times he considered changing its title, but the title had established itself so firmly in his consciousness that he thought it would be sacrilege to give the story any other name. Besides, it fitted the story perfectly...

Walking faster, he closed the gap between them because Kathryn had stopped.

He saw the expression on her face. She stood about a metre away from him, the manuscript still clutched in the same way to her. Something tore at him, seeing her standing there, her heart in her eyes, her mouth soft as she smiled, yet those eyes... 

He would die ten thousand times for her and beg the gods to make him come alive again, in her name.

Now it seemed to him that time stood still, that all the larks had stopped their singing, that the dogs waited patiently, that even the ocean had stopped heaving and became still. Time took its giant hands and pushed away every obstacle of sound, of movement, of sight and left him alone with Kathryn, standing on their favourite beach. He waited.

Kathryn spoke first.

"I was angry once when you told me you changed the story."

"Yes," he said.

"It's the story of Ethan and Kathryn…"

"Yes."

"I remember you once said that some scenes were waiting to write themselves."

"Yes, Kathryn, sweetheart."

"I know now what you meant by that..."

"I waited for you," he said, his heart overflowing with deep emotion.

"It's our story," she said, her voice sad, yet proud. "Right from the time I arrived home from the Delta Quadrant, the debriefings, the court-martial. Mostly, us…"

"Mostly us. I wanted it to be mostly us..."

Kathryn took the manuscript and opened it. Her fingers quivered as she turned to the first page. "I quite like your opening paragraphs."

"And, Kathryn?"

And then she started reading...

They were home.

Crew were reunited with parents, grandparents, brothers, sisters, loved ones. The constant buzz of sounds and movement created a haze in which she felt swallowed by grey swirling mists, unable to see straight ahead, or knowing which way to turn.

She heard laughter – bright laughter. She heard weeping – tears of joy, of sadness, of aching voids that could no longer be filled. She had done what she needed to do: see that every crewman was tended to. That her ship's logs be downloaded to the Federation database, every report from every department over a period of seven years be in the hands of admirals who would decipher, analyse, discard, disseminate, laud, admire, doubt, criticise.

The voices were around her - loud voices, astringent calls, soft, coaxing voices that asked a child to accept a father never seen, that informed a husband of a child, now seven, that imparted to a daughter news of a mother just died, that told of misery, of denigration, of acceptance, of joy, of loss. Later the voices sat in her head, crowding and overcrowding her spaces until she felt her head would burst. She tried to see the nearest tree where, in helpless rage, she could just bang her forehead until she could no longer think.

It was not supposed to be like this.

Homecoming meant being Caesar entering the gates of Rome in triumph and relating his many exploits in Gaul. Homecoming meant Odysseus returning after twenty years and countless trials at sea to a waiting son and wife. Homecoming meant a prisoner, long transformed from his former wickedness, flying into the  arms of his overjoyed, devoted wife and children.

Her mother was dead. Voices – again – that travelled from the centre of the mists told her of the pining of her mother until at last, too unbearably tired to hold on to life, she simply passed away. Homecoming meant a sister who remained hidden until her face emerged from the mists and the only words that held any power, any meaning, that stabbed too deeply for her to offer an explanation, were "You killed my mother." Just that. Her sister had turned away from her before she could even open her mouth; before she could open her arms for a hug of joy; before she could say, "I'm sorry."

Homecoming. No one to wait for her. No loved ones. Everyone of her crew came home to something or with something. They had something to connect them to their past and their present and their future. She lay, like Odysseus, washed up on the shores, turned into an old, old woman who had nothing to look forward to.

There were tears in Kathryn's eyes when she finished. 

"I was Odysseus, Ethan. So many times..."

"And I was the wayfarer...who finally reached his destination," he said softly, caressing her cheek.

"It's your best work, Ethan. I feel somewhat displaced, reading about Elizabeth and David, knowing we are them… It's a rare honour…"

He nodded. He wondered how she was going to react to his next words as he drew her gently into his arms.

"I'm not publishing The Raging Moon…"

Her body stilled. He thought absently how fragile she still felt.

"Ethan?" she said, moving out of his embrace to look at him. Her eyes were dark with emotion.

"The manuscript is my gift to you, darling."

"But - "

"You're the only one in the universe to read it."

A smile played around her mouth. He had seen the brief flash of distress in her eyes; he had known he would see it. He had always known that putting his story out there would breach something too precious, too intensely private. Writing it had become their catharsis. It was worth waiting for this moment, this living moment the story needed for its grand conclusion.

"I love you, Ethan Bellamy."

"And I love you, Kathryn Janeway, until my dying day and beyond."

Ethan Bellamy pulled his wife gently back into his arms again, the manuscript between them. His hand caressed her hair. She felt small against him, so beloved. He heard her give a sweet sigh of contentment.

He thought of the closing lines of The Raging Moon, the ending he had envisaged since the first day he had met his beloved, since the day she opened her eyes and said to him, "let me die". He thought how in that instant, he had known that Kathryn Janeway would impact on his life and fulfil his destiny.

Kathryn had read the words and her sigh was a sigh of knowing that the closing paragraphs of The Raging Moon  would be exactly like now, where they were standing on their beach, with the giant hands of time suspending all movement and sight and sound except their own. He even thought he felt Kathryn's smile against his chest, just as he felt the glorious touch of her lips.

They stood there on the beach with the last rays of the sun on his skin as he raised his face to receive its healing power. He gazed into the distance. Far, far he could see, and he imagined he saw someone watching them, someone standing on the high cliff. A person - a man - who stood tall and still. He imagined the man held a small child in his arms. He imagined how lonely that man appeared.

Ethan thought how men and women threw away chances at happiness, thinking they might find them again, only to discover how lost they were. He thought how men could search their whole lives for something so intangible that no one could understand their meaning, their drive. And so they kept journeying on their lonely quests, strangers in strange lands, wayfarers who discovered that what they were looking for was never out there, but right within their hearts. He thought how they discovered that the treasure that is love everlasting was so close to home that the joy of finding it surprised them unceasingly.

He was a lonely man who embarked on his quest in search of the intangible, in search of fulfilment.

Then he found Kathryn.

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

THE END

EPILOGUE

Back to Bellamy Main Page

Home

J/C Fanfic