But change the Earth, or change the sky...

Veronica Jane Williams

Disclaimer: Paramount owns them. Yes.

Rating: G

Summary: Chakotay writes Kathryn a letter

Author's Note: The title comes from an old Elizabethan song. There is no anthology of Elizabethan love songs - not to my knowledge anyway. The words of the poem may not be entirely accurate as I have written them from memory. This was just one of those crazy ideas I had driving home from work, and looking for something - a filler - to write while I'm working on other projects. It is rather 'bring out the hanky' type of letter.

But change the Earth, or change the sky

I love the feel of paper in my hands. You know, real paper. Paper made from the finest reeds of the Nile Delta. Rice paper. Paper as smooth as a glass pane, or paper that reveals, as you hold it this way or that, depending on how the light falls on it, the beauty of the tiny veins that criss-cross, yet assemble in motifs which fly at you like woven tapestries or sand paintings.

No words could look more beautiful, declare more profoundly its import than when it is written on paper. Each letter is defined, curling and stretching and linking into meaning, letting you even smell the ink which have made letters the voice of love, reason, friendship, hope, despair, restoration, even hate.

And so, Kathryn, I write this letter to you. I don't think I have the heart to declare myself to you so openly and say things that touch me at the core so boldly. I feel better writing you, with this imaginary distance between us, yet always thinking that I am talking to you.

You are so near to me then, I can see your eyes, how the light and shadows play in them as you scan the words. I can see your hands, how your fingers gently hold the pages with so much care as if you're afraid they would tear. You know me. I've always expressed myself on paper better than I could if I were talking to you. I know! My penmanship needs a little work. But I've had a lot of practice in the last few years on Voyager, just pouring my feelings in this way, labouring over every letter, carefully tracing the cursive into words. Just don't expect the paper to be perfumed! I am after all a Warrior, you know. Though, anyone seeing me actually express myself in this way would think it so contrary! So...not Chakotay.

Are you smiling? I hope you are. Are you thinking things while you read these words that come from the heart of a battle weary warrior? Are you saying: 'dear Chakotay, this is so like him'?

This is my last missive to you: my epistle of love. I have borne more on my shoulders, and carried more in my heart than you can ever know, Kathryn. And because I cannot continue this path much longer, I must stop, for I have reached the end of all I could ever bear. No, I have not stopped loving you, my Kathryn. That is the only constant to which I can steadfastly cling. But I must leave. You are so close to me that I can smell the apples in your hair, even get a whiff of the smell of your lipstick. I know what perfume you like to use when you go off duty and you are wearing your favourite blue dress. I know your 'Kathryn is on duty' cologne. I know just how you like your coffee. I know you in every mood. That is how near we are. I could reach across our chairs and I could touch your hair.

I could touch your cheek, and the very air in which I breathe would rejoice with me while my heart sang. I could do that, for that is how near you are to me.

But how great the distance between us! How great it has always been. You were never mine. I could never make you mine, even though my heart yearned and my body hungered. Always, always, there was in your eyes that message, that silent conveyance that what could be, could never be. I have seen your loneliness, witnessed your anger, heard your professions of duty, listened to your declarations of responsibility to all but yourself. Always it was your eyes that begged me for that understanding. I have understood.

It did not stop me loving you.

That is why I can pour my heart out in these letters to you, my Kathryn, and feel your lips on mine, your hands against my cheek. That is why I can always let my imagination fly with the eagles, for in my hopeless yearning for you, you become alive in these pages. Your eyes dance with merriment, your lips curl in that so lovingly familiar humorous curve, upturned ever so gently in one corner. Even watching you hold your coffee mug to your lips, has lately become a benediction, did you know that? You are alive then, in these pages where I tell you everything. I can tell you all of my hopes and dreams. I can talk to you of me, of you. I can ask you: do you love me?

I saw you one day. You looked at me. I fell in love with you. I didn't know then, believe me. I was so busy fighting alongside you, keeping our ship afloat and our family together, that the exact moment that I realised my love for you, could not be measured in time, or even space! Like a thief it stole on me, and like a sleepwalker, I wandered the corridors of Voyager and woke up one day in the hydroponics bay in the early hours of that morning. The first thing I saw, were the little tomato plants we brought back from New Earth. Full they were, red and ripe, ready to break into succulent pieces in your mouth. Did you know that I imagined just how I held that one tomato to you and imagined that I'd ask you: "Bite, my love. Enjoy the fruit of your labour..."?

Yes, that was the night I acknowledged to myself that whether I live and breathe, whether I walk, fight for survival, whether I may lie dying somewhere alone in this vastness of the space we travel in; whether you would ever reciprocate my feelings, I would love you for all time.

I am Chakotay.

Loving you, Kathryn, is an indivisible part of me. I am nothing without that love, for on it, I draw everything that I am now. On that love, I draw my strength, my hope, every reason that I have in this universe to be alive and offer testimony of that life. On that love, I ask for nothing, but that I walk with you your road. On that love, I can give all of me and ask to kneel at your feet.

That is the strength of Chakotay, the Warrior who looked on your face that first day and asked: "how do you know my name"?

I knew from that moment that I could never be free.

Do you remember the time when you were reading 19th century poetry? Remember Michael?

Ah, you are smiling again, though I think it must be a smile of tenderness! Your were reading more poetry in those days that I have seen you do in the years before that. And Kathryn, I never told you, did I? Never told you how much I hurt. How could I, when you couldn't know how much I loved?

Do you know what I did?

I searched the database, and found an anthology of Elizabethan songs. I think you must be smiling, Kathryn, for you must be holding the very book in your hand right now, with my letter open on it.

There was this one little poem that always, always reminded me of you, and was so telling of what my feelings are for you. I'm not a poet, you know that, neither am I a writer. I merely say what is in my heart, but I know these things must make some sense to you, for if you are standing there with my tattered anthology of Elizabethan songs and reading this letter, you must be understanding all that I'm trying to convey to you.

'"There is a lady sweet and kind".

That is you, Kathryn.

"Was never face so pleased my mind".

How could I not love you?

"I did but see her passing by..."

Sometimes you would pass me in the corridors of Voyager, and there would be that rapport between us, an unspoken affirmation of friendship; of friends who can even touch, and let that touch heal... That was what kept me breathing, alive and hoping so long on Voyager.

Because I could hope.

I want you to think of me, Kathryn, as the man, the warrior, the officer who was willing to lay his life down for you. I want you to think of me as the man who hoped beyond hope. I want you to think of me as the man who could forgive you for not loving me back, because all I ever wanted, was to see you happy. I have seen you happy, my Kathryn, and that was the greatest gift you could give me. I want you to think of me not as a man who sacrificed, but as a man whose greatest pleasure was in giving and sharing.

And so I leave you with these words from my beloved Elizabethan song:

"Cupid is wingéd and doth range,
her country, so my love doth change;
but, change the Earth, or change the sky,
yet will I love her till I die..."

Chakotay.

**

Kathryn Janeway stood, reading the last lines of the letter. Her hands trembled as she fingered the pages with infinite tenderness. She looked up at the sky and strangely, saw an eagle in majestic flight, dipping its wings as if it saluted her.

She looked on the page again, but this time she was unable to see the words clearly. Her lips trembled and hands became limp as the pages fluttered to the ground, gently curving and dipping until they landed on the rectangular patch of green grass.

<How can I be so completely, so utterly desolate?>

Kathryn bent down and picked up a beautiful yellow rose. It was for him, for it brought back so many memories. She stepped forward and touched the cold, smooth marble, and her fingers pressed into the engraved letters on it.

Commander Chakotay
USS Voyager
Stardate 54350.6

Her scalding tears soaked into the grass, fell on a tattered book that lay on the grave. She looked for the pages that lay scattered around her. Her eyes fell again on the words:

"But change the Earth, or change the sky,
yet will I love her till I die".

Kathryn Janeway murmured softly:

"Oh, Chakotay, if you had spoken..."

*****

END

Star Trek: Voyager, Captain Janeway, Chakotay, Paris, Torres, the EMH, and other characters of the series, etc. are the property of Paramount Pictures. Other characters created by the author, will remain the author's property. All photos/images are copyright of Paramount Pictures, 1998, 1999, No infringement upon their trademarks or copyrights were intended. All stories are my own property, that Paramount or anyone else doesn't own. The stories and displaying of pics are intended for entertaining purposes only and not for any financial gain.

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