Chakotay's Vigil

A little Christmas story

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Paramount owns the characters.

Summary: After a shuttle accident, Kathryn Janeway lies in a coma. Chakotay refuses to leave her side.

PART ONE

Tom Paris exited the turbolift on Deck 11 and made his way swiftly to Engineering. His face pulled in a grimace after he nodded to the three ensigns who passed him as they came out of Voyager's engine room. Ensigns Edor and Golwat, normally so effusive whenever they greeted him and often exchanging some humorous incident with him, looked like they had their favourite toy stolen, and Ensign Hurling didn't smile at all.

An air of morbidity hung over them as he looked back and watched as they quickly entered the turbolift. Tom gave a shrug and look around him in Engineering. Even here, the heartbeat of the ship, it was quiet - too quiet. Joe Carey approached him.

"If you're looking for B'Elanna, she's on the upper level," Joe offered, nodding in the direction of where B'Elanna was busy with one of the junior officers at an open conduit. For a moment Tom considered turning back to their quarters, but the way her staff moved about as if they too, were aware of what was happening, he changed his mind. The matter was too pressing and the order that had come from Chakotay still rang in his ears two days later. He had gone with Tuvok to sickbay to broach the matter of the Christmas Party with Chakotay. In retrospect, he realised it was a bad call and bad timing. It was the second day, and already Chakotay looked washed out from lack of sleep.

"We want to know from you, Commander. We'd like to postpone the party until - until - "  He hadn't known how to finish.

"The crew wish to delay the festivity until the Captain is restored to health, Commander," Tuvok said in a composed voice. Tom thought that Tuvok could never be discomposed or ill eat ease.

Chakotay had been sitting next to the biobed, and when he rose  he stared into Tom's face. Chakotay looked worn out, with bleary eyes and a two day stubble.

"You go ahead. That's an order, Paris."

"But, Commander! We need the Captain and First Officer present. We thought it - "

"Would therefore be logical that the festivities wait until the Captain and Commander can...make it to the party on time..."

If it hadn't been such a serious matter, Tom would have laughed at Tuvok's reference to 'My Fair Lady'  They were all wishing that Chakotay could make it to some church on time and with the right woman. That woman had been sitting side by side with him on the bridge for almost seven years now. Could the man be so dense or blind? The Captain had been waiting for how long. Granted, she let the ship dictate her heart, but all of them could see it was the warrior man who held the key. Then the warrior went and wooed another woman. He had nothing against Seven of Nine, but hell, Chakotay needed the storms and the fire and the thrill of the unexpected and surprise. Seven was well...endowed, and that was all. The Captain... Tom gave himself a mental shake. That was sensitive ground on which they danced an egg dance.

"We can wait," he tried again, knowing his words sounded futile as he saw the look on Chakotay's face.

"And I say the Captain would have wanted you to continue without her," Chakotay retorted resolutely.

"But, Commander!"

"You heard me, Paris."

He had wanted to stand his ground and convince Chakotay that it didn't matter if they celebrated afterwards; they wanted their Captain and Commander there. Tuvok had raised an eyebrow, looked askance at him and declared, "The Commander is right, Lieutenant Paris."

Before he could say anything, Chakotay had already seated himself again and was holding the Captain's hand, his lips moving as if he were praying. At that point he realised that anything he said would simply have been an intrusion. Chakotay wasn't with them anymore. They looked - even with the Captain in a coma - so intimate, so completely together as they needed to be. It was why the roster Samantha Wildman had drawn up for the crew to take turns keeping a vigil had remained unused. No one dared interfere... By the time they were ready to leave sickbay, Tuvok had nodded impassively, accepting Chakotay's directive and ordering him to follow it too; he had bristled inside. What was it to Tuvok anyway? The Chief of Security was a Vulcan and impassive mostly about any kind of revelry around the ship.

Now, he had to see how B'Elanna was doing, and with the Captain's condition not worsening, it was at least a good sign and he could give anyone who asked some positive feedback. He had no idea how deep in thought he had been until he heard Joe Carey cough to get his attention.

Tom gripped Joe's shoulder reassuringly.

"How is the Captain, Tom?" Joe asked softly, looking quickly around him to make certain the others didn't hear his question. Tom had a feeling Joe or anyone else for that matter, expected to hear the worst.

Tom sighed heavily, looking at where B'Elanna was still busy as he said, "As well as she can do in the circumstances, if a dead coma can be considered better than - than...death, I suppose. At least, she's not getting any worse. The Commander is with her, and you know - "

"He hasn't left her side..."

"Not once in the last four days, Joe. I - "

"Let's just hope, okay?" Joe replied quickly as he saw the normally upbeat Tom Paris struggling to contain himself. "The doctor will get her through. B'Elanna... I must tell you before you go up there, Tom. She's still taking it pretty hard." Tom smiled grimly. He knew what Joe alluded to. B'Elanna was giving them a hard time again.

"I know. It's why I have to see her, you understand?"

Joe nodded again, then turned to his station at the warp core. Tom made to move, paused, then changed his mind as he proceeded to the hoist that would take him to the upper level. B'Elanna rose when she

saw Tom approach.

"Tom, how is she?" B'Elanna asked, her voice heavy with concern and anxiety.

Tom grimaced again. B'Elanna had not tackled him with her usual banter whenever he came into Engineering. This time her hand flew involuntarily to her stomach and Tom felt his body suffuse with pride and warmth. His impulse to ask her whether she was referring to their unborn child died on his lips as he saw her eyes. She was sick with worry.

"I've just come from sickbay. The Captain is still in a coma and Doc is trying his best to keep her stabilised. He's of the opinion that her coma is a blessing in disguise, B'Elanna." 

"Why?"

"She went into shock as you know, and the regeneration... Her body must heal naturally too."

B'Elanna nodded. Tom touched B'Elanna's cheek in a brief caress and he watched as she closed her eyes. He had a sense that it wasn't his touch that elicited that reaction from her, but hearing that the Captain had not regained consciousness. B'Elanna... Tom gave another little sigh as B'Elanna opened her eyes to look at him. He wanted to haul her in his arms in that moment. B'Elanna looked too worried and despite the latest update on the Captain's condition, it didn't seem to cheer her a little bit even. He gripped her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. "B'Elanna, stop beating yourself...please..."  he said on a sober note.

B'Elanna's eyes flashed briefly; Tom sensed she was about to pounce angrily on him, but he stood his ground.

"You didn't see her in the shuttle, Tom. It was like she was demented. I don't know. Maybe I could have stopped her, but she threw the book at me."

"It was an away mission. You were under orders to obey - "

"I should have forced her to turn back, Tom. I should have. I - "

"You didn't want to use your condition as leverage..."

B'Elanna nodded, looking still acutely unhappy.

"Maybe. I don't know... I don't know... It's the Starfleet way, right? We take risks, get ourselves in difficult situations to save one life, right?"

"I'm dead certain she wasn't thinking of failure, B'Elanna. She was convinced...confident that she'd get you both back safely to Voyager - "

"Then everything went wrong," B'Elanna cut in as if she didn't even hear Tom. "That plasma storm... It was the worst, Tom."

Tom had heard B'Elanna's account several times and this time he didn't stop her. He understood she needed to get it out of her system and deal with the tragedy that way. Talking about it helped somewhat. They'd lie in bed and she would tremble as she recounted to him what had happened. 

"The Captain made an emergency landing. It couldn't be avoided. Hell, I don't think I could have handled the Flyer better in the same circumstances - "

"She saved my life, Tom. Her body...was burned...badly..."

Tom knew the details. He and the EMH worked several hours just regenerating burnt areas and fixing broken bones. B'Elanna had mild concussion and a broken leg. When they found the crashed Flyer, it had taken everything in him not to reveal how distressed he had been. But B'Elanna had been lying under the Captain's broken body. It was clear to the rescue team that the Captain had thrown her body against B'Elanna's to try and protect the engineer that way. It did. B'Elanna was safe, healed in a matter of minutes and their baby was safe. He wanted to cry when he first determined that while the EMH started working instantly on the Captain.

"I know, B'Elanna. We know that she saved your life. But she'll recover, I promise."

B'Elanna looked around her as if she thought that her engines would die on her. When Joe Carey appeared into view, she gave a sigh of relief.

"That was not the only reason you came up here, Tom."

B'Elanna's words were a statement, and he knew she expected to be answered, no matter how she would react. The latest on the Captain's condition, though still not the best they could hope for, was

that she was stabilised. It offered comfort, albeit so little of it. But Chakotay's words in sickbay still rang in his ears.

"Come on, out with it, Tom," B'Elanna demanded.

"It's Christmas Eve."

B'Elanna rolled her eyes.

"Which everyone on this vessel knows, even those not adhering to that tradition. What is your point?"

"And we've drawn names - all of us - for the exchanging of the gifts, right?"

"You want me to tell you whose name I drew?"

"Come on, B'Elanna. This is serious - "

"I know, Tom. So, what are we going to do?"

"You know Chakotay blew a fuse when I suggested we delay the Christmas celebrations."

"Tom! The Captain is close to dying. He's losing the woman he - "

"What, B'Elanna? Admires? Respects?"

"What about love, Tom?"

"We're not going into that."

B'Elanna walked away from him to the hoist and stood on the small platform.

"You didn't see her tears, Tom, before we crashed. And, it wasn't that she thought we'd die."

"Okay, fine.. love, then. But B'Elanna, Chakotay wants us to continue tonight in the mess hall. He doesn't want us to delay anything!"

"That's Chakotay for you. He's ordering us to be happy, Tom. I've got to go. See you later."

"So what do you think we should do?" Tom asked as he headed for the spiral stair to return to the level floor.

"What do you think, Helmboy?"

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

PART TWO

He was not aware of the minute or the hour or the day. Time had lost meaning, and with space and sound and physical awareness, it coalesced into an unending litany of pleas through barely moving lips and slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Chakotay's eyes remained riveted to the deathly pale face of the woman on the biobed. Movement became something he feared; turning away to fix his gaze on something else in the sickbay became terror, lest he did turn away and her expression changed or she opened her eyes. He didn't want to miss any single shift of her body, the tiniest fraction of movement of her fingers clasped in his hands, a tear that braved the outside world and trickled down a pallid cheek where he brushed it away tenderly, hoping that she would remember a touch...his touch; a twitch of a nerve in her jaw, or...her eyes opening.

He had no concept of how long he had been here, keeping a desperate vigil. His eyes burned and his body was ready to sink to the floor from sheer exhaustion but he kept watching her, kept her lifeless hand in his and willed it alive, kept murmuring and pleading for her to open her eyes. The desire to see some movement from her, kept him constantly on his guard.

"Kathryn..." he murmured through parched lips.

There was no answer.

Only a pale face, closed eyes and the soft rise and fall of her breast.

A hand touched his shoulder, remained there in a firm grip.

"Commander."

"What is it, Doc?" He didn't look up, instead, his shoulder stiffened at the intrusion.

"You require rest."

"I've already told you. Leave me alone, Doctor. The Captain, she - "

" - would want an alert First Officer to run the ship."

Chakotay sighed.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Don't you mean what day it is?" the Doctor snapped back as Chakotay turned his gaze on Kathryn again.

"Yeah. Whatever."

"You've been here four days without rest, Commander, and it's Christmas Eve..."

"She'll wake up..." Chakotay said tiredly. "She'll wake up. The crew must go on..."

"Commander, why don't you go to your quarters? I'll have the senior crew take turns - "

"No! Didn't you hear me? Kathryn needs me, Doctor. I'm not leaving her side."

"Commander, you're about to keel over from exhaustion - "

Chakotay slid Kathryn's hand carefully out of his grasp; momentarily regretful at releasing his touch, he rose to his full height. He stared at the Doctor, who retreated one step only, the grasp he had on Chakotay's shoulder relinquished the second he mentioned the word 'exhaustion'. Chakotay's nostrils flared, and he breathed in deeply before expelling his breath slowly. He stepped forward. It was more a drunken stumble and the Doctor's eyebrow lifted in tandem with the left side of his upper lip. It fanned Chakotay's cold anger even more, seeing the doctor's expression.

"I stay here until Captain Janeway can hear my voice and respond by opening her eyes. Not a moment before that, Doctor. I swear by the spirits if you touch me again, I will deactivate you indefinitely."

Chakotay swallowed again, watched with satisfaction as the EMH backtracked.

"Okay. Fine. You stay by her side forever, Commander. I assure you, she will come out of her coma. I told you four days ago that her present condition may be a blessing in disguise. It is allowing her body to heal without her fretting about the running of her ship."

It was an accusation and Chakotay knew it. They were cruising at impulse speed on his instruction until he was assured beyond doubt that Kathryn was okay. She'd demote him for that, but he'd go willingly to the brig if it meant that he could remain with her and will her to recover. For four days she seemed impervious to his voice, his calm ministrations one minute and anguished appeals the next.

Chakotay sighed, closed his eyes a second before opening them again instantly and rubbed for several seconds to keep awake. He nodded, then sat down again in the chair next to her bed. Any hope that Kathryn might have heard them and opened her eyes, was dashed when she lay exactly as he had last seen her, two minutes ago.

"Now, will you leave me alone, Doctor?"

He didn't wait for the Doctor to respond, not really aware that the doctor had taken himself offline a second later. Chakotay's attention was now exclusively with Kathryn. He took her hand in his again, rubbed idly over the bony back of it, noting how her skin seemed to slither over the bone so loose it was.

The doctor was right; he had to lie down and rest, but he wasn't willing to admit to any weakness, not now that he needed to stay alert for her sake. Too much had happened. No, he corrected himself. There was too much that didn't happen just before Kathryn decided to head the away mission. He had been his normal bullish contrary self when they butted heads in her quarters over the risks involved.

The accident had been terrifying, and when they beamed her and B'Elanna to sickbay, he had been demented at the sight of her. Her body had been broken; the acrid smell of burning flesh meshing with fabric remaining in his nostrils for hours afterwards. The gaping wound against her forehead all but convinced him that she had died. But Tom had assured him while still down on the planet, that there were signs of life in the Captain. It was the only sliver of hope he could cling to in the first two days when the EMH battled to save her. He had not stood idly around, but helped where he could when he saw that Tom was trying to save B'Elanna and their baby. B'Elanna had been distraught, crying over and over that the Captain saved her life.

But what about Kathryn? B'Elanna was fine, her baby was fine and Tom at least, breathed a hundred sighs of relief that his wife and unborn child were still with him. Kathryn though, slipped quietly into a coma and hasn't woken since. He hadn't left her side since she was brought in. Where in the darkest hell did Kathryn Janeway dwell? What demons terrorised her there? What curse lay upon her that she couldn't open her eyes just once and assure him that she was still with them?

"Oh, Kathryn..." he groaned again. "Why did you leave on that mission? Why?"

He remembered the last time he spoke with her. She had been tight-lipped and implacable when he voiced his concern at her decision.

"It's not uncommon for a Captain to head an away mission, Chakotay. You know that."

"And I tell you it's folly to go, Kathryn. Why now? Why take B'Elanna with? She's pregnant - "

That had fanned Kathryn's resolve more. She turned on him as if she were ready to spit venom in his face.

"B'Elanna goes because she is fit to go, Chakotay. She's a member of the senior staff, aware that taking risks are part of her job, part of any officer's and crewman's job."

"Fine. But this whole mission isn't necessary. We've seen the warning signs of plasma storms all round the planet."

"We need to mine the dilithium now."

"It can wait - "

"For what, Chakotay? Twenty years? Forever? Are you planning on having me stick around here the same way you convinced me to let go of my resolve once before?"

He had known what she meant. It had taken a plasma storm on New Earth to convince her that the planet had to serve as their permanent home and Kathryn was not ready for permanency. It's why... He shrugged that thought away from him. On New Earth Kathryn had been fighting the idea for weeks. He had been ready to settle, even then...

That day in her quarters Kathryn had looked at him, her whole body stiff and primed for combat. He couldn't understand it. There were always fights and considerations and objections, but they were done in a squeaky nice civil manner that he sometimes hated. The calm, intellectual, courteous way to fight, he always thought of their little spats over her decision making, when he thought it was token to resist. Sometimes, when it did boil over into heated debate, Kathryn would be resolute, always fair and rational.  

Kathryn's eyes had remained shooting sparks; if she could, she would literally have bared her teeth, and that to convince him that she was right about taking the Delta Flyer and taking B'Elanna. Why was she suddenly different? He could deal with her cold, calm anger, not the angry spitting cobra she was revealing to him. He had known the dangers of the away mission. The day before he had gone over every known pitfall with her, and she had been ready to reconsider. Only... He had given a sigh.

"Then I guess there's nothing more to say, is there? It's your ship."

That stung her and he felt guilty, yet he couldn't help himself. He saw the fight leave her, saw the dejected droop to her shoulders and he resisted the urge to pull her into his arms and soothe away her tension. The interruption when it came, was almost too much to bear.

"Seven of Nine to Chakotay..."

He cringed. His relationship with Seven was never discussed; it remained an unspoken barrier between them.

If he didn't cringe so much at hearing Seven's voice, he might have paid more attention to the stricken look that creased Kathryn's features. A moment only, and it was gone.

"Dismissed."

Kathryn's voice had been soft, barely above a whisper. There was no relief that he could feel when he exited her quarters and hit his commbadge to respond to Seven's hail. He sensed - and should have known - that Seven lay at the heart of what ailed Kathryn.

Now, Kathryn lay in a coma, her body healing after shock from her injuries had set in and overpowered her. The first day the doctor had told him in his calm, grating manner that talking to Kathryn would help the comatose Captain of Voyager. His scepticism must have shown.

"I've heard it helps," the EMH declared. When Chakotay gave a snort, the doctor amended, "Fine, I've searched my database and determined that it helps. Now, don't just hold her hand, Commander. The Captain may not be willing to respond to touch."

Chakotay had not known what the doctor meant.

"It's not enough, Commander. Keep talking to her. Anything, as long as she hears your voice."

How could Kathryn hear him? But he shrugged his shoulder and started talking.

Non-stop, it felt like to him. Not just the prosaic "do you remember this or that"? kind of talk. He read to her, from her favourite books. He read poetry which he knew she liked. Most times he just talked, whispered little anecdotes of all their adventures. For days he kept up the talking, many times battling not to become distraught and shake her, or, to fall asleep... It had been a struggle to remain detached and talk as if Kathryn were sitting on her couch in her quarters, listening to him discussing the day’s events. He dared not ever entertain any thought that she might die. Still, he continued. If the doctor said it would help Kathryn, it would. He hadn’t thought once to arrange his medicine wheel above the biobed;  the first time he did consider it, he rejected the idea  immediately. Kathryn might not like it, he thought.

Only when he needed to, he visited the bathroom, or addressed the senior officers in the doctor’s small office, the desire to return to Kathryn’s side so intense that he bristled at any intrusion. His heart raced anticipating the moment that Kathryn would wake up and look at him. He waited in anguish for that moment. Once before, he had gone almost insane when Kathryn died in his arms. She had recovered, and even then he couldn't tell her how terrified he had been The pain and old longing had settled into his heart in a deep corner and over the years he simply allowed his need of Kathryn to submerge where the pain could not reach it.

He had taken other interests, made himself  believe that a man could love another person with the same intensity, the same humility of being. That thought made him grip Kathryn’s hand tighter; in the touch he imagined she could feel him and understand his quiet rage and the rush of a thousand wild rivers.

He had been mistaken...

Sometime the sickbay doors opened, but it registered on his tired brain only as a door opening and closing, with no considerations beyond that. He was speaking with Kathryn, he was sharing his thoughts with her, communicating wordlessly, and that thought, the tremendous urgency to hear her respond to his voice or touch or just his nearness, was paramount in his conscious. 

"I guess you don't want to hear my voice, Kathryn," he said softly, feeling discouraged. "Doc said you could hear me…deep down..."

Kathryn lay still, her face, if anything, looked paler, but Chakotay wanted to think it was the subtle change of the light setting in sick bay.

"I don't love her, you know..." he said softly, the admission rolling from his lips like a sudden blessed message from heaven. His body sagged, a deep, low breath escaped him as he said the words. Why had he clung so tenaciously to an illusion? he wondered. His eyes lit up for a moment as he allowed the revelation to sink in. It struck him, the epiphany so blinding it corroded the impenetrable wall he built around his heart and that only four days ago of keeping a vigil by Kathryn's side, started crumbling from the top, brick by brick. He had not ever wanted to think of letting in the pain again, and insulated himself against it; yet, over the crumbling top of the wall it flowed into his heart. He could never quite reason how he could become demented, crazed again to be rushing to her and stay with her while another person had been a generous recipient of what he was willing to give. Kathryn had claimed his sole and undivided attention for days in which he was supposed to have been showering affection on another woman. He had… Another great sigh escaped him. He had imagined he could love again… He had imagined he could replace Kathryn in his heart completely... It burst from him again, with utter conviction, "I don't love her." 

"I know, Chakotay..."

A momentary confusion gripped him as he looked at Kathryn, then at the woman who had come stand next to him. He saw her in a haze and didn't notice the slight trembling of her fingers.

"Seven?"

"The last four days, Chakotay, I have known what it means to love. It is watching you here, with the Captain..."

He had no time to feel embarrassed. The implant against Seven's temple looked liked it twitched and that was the only reaction on her sometimes impassive face. He didn't know how to explain to her, the burgeoning guilt that he was letting Seven down dissipating only slightly as Seven smiled at him, her eyes warm, understanding.

"Seven, I - "

"She needs you, Chakotay..."

He nodded, not knowing what to say, but sensing that Seven made it easier for him to go to Kathryn with a free heart. Then Seven turned on her heels and with cat-like stealth, she exited the sickbay. Chakotay stared at the door for several seconds, then turned to look at Kathryn again.

Chakotay blinked, once, twice.

A tear seeped through closed eyelids and rolled slowly down Kathryn's cheek.

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

PART THREE

Chakotay gave a sob and buried his face against Kathryn's body. For several moments his own frame shook and finally, when it subsided he raised his face. Although Kathryn was still comatose, he could swear by the spirits that she heard him.

"Oh, Kathryn…" he groaned softly, before seeking her body again and nestling his face against her while his hand always protectively, covered hers. He closed his eyes.

She heard me… She heard me… She heard me…

Yes, she heard you, Chakotay... Come to me...

He rose to his feet and trudged slowly in the narrow path that led to a little clearing, the giant palm-like fronds swishing as he pushed them aside. He had walked this path many times before and knew that in a minute he would hear the sounds of footsteps coming from the other direction.

He listened and smiled, his heart lifting as Kolopak appeared. Then Chakotay's smile froze as he saw the thunderous look on Kolopak's face. He gaped several times until his father stepped right up to him, the knife he always carried as a carving tool pointing ominously at Chakotay's chest. Chakotay stepped back; it was wise to put some distance between his chest and the knife. Kolopak's hat sat as Chakotay always remembered, the broad band a little floppy at the front so that his face was shaded. Still, the long creases in his cheeks were frozen into place and Kolopak's normally compassionate eyes flamed. Chakotay remembered that look from days when he had been a little boy who braved the great one's annoyance. Now, it wasn't difficult to wonder what brought on that mood again.

"What is this father, that you do not come in peace?"

"What is this Chakotay, that you ask a stupid question?"

"I am a contrary," Chakotay replied, as if that justified his stupidity. The knife kept balancing delicately on Kolopak's open palm until he closed his hand and dangled the knife in front of Chakotay. Kolopak burst out laughing and Chakotay frowned.

"It has been known for contraries to throw away their destiny."

"I know what my destiny is, Father."

"You? What is this, Chakotay, that you cannot see the difference between a raging river running deep and wild and tempered only by you, and a sweet gentle stream that does not need your very faculties to nurture it?"

"I don't know what - "

"Are you dense, my son?

Kolopak took a step forward; this time Chakotay didn't budge. Kolopak's agenda was... The knife was pointed at Chakotay's face.

"Isn't it worth hearing every thundering rapid and braving the untamed beauty of the raging river, my son?"

Chakotay did not take long to ponder. He saw a pair of blue-grey eyes, eyes that darkened as the sadness came to live in them. In amazement he saw himself with Kathryn, locked in a heated argument one moment and the next, her eyes rested gently on his. He saw how he thrived on that. Then the sadness came into her eyes again. He wanted to take away the sorrow... He wanted it...wanted it...

"Yes," Chakotay admitted. "Yes, it is... I seek that."

"A fool thing that was, messing with your destiny, Chakotay. Why?"

"Because, I tired of waiting..." he retorted. "I got tired...that's all."

Kolopak turned his head to a distant vista.

"You are dense. Your mother made me wait, but it was worth the wait."

"She - doesn't want me," Chakotay replied, his voice sounding suddenly forlorn.

"Chakotay, look..."

Kolopak waved a hand beyond the clearing, and it was as if the trees parted and in the distance Chakotay saw the water that snaked silvery in the late afternoon sun. Beyond the river the green landscape rose gently. It was beautiful to see.

"Listen, Chakotay. Listen with your heart, for if you do not hear it, you never will..."

Chakotay stood perfectly still, for in that stillness he believed, he would hear falcons over mountains beyond the river, far away. He believed he would hear if an insect crawled through the undergrowth, eagerly seeking refuge, or sustenance. He believed he could...hear the lonely, plaintive wail of the wolf, a low and sad call in the afternoon where there was no moon. He heard her as surely as if he had been there, standing next to her. He heard the sad longing of the time, and of their time. It was only a sound - the only sound - but the song, for now he was convinced it was a song, traveled on the air, its soft notes melodious and welcoming as they found their destination. For a moment Chakotay clutched at his chest, the burn so intense that his face contracted. Inside him he sensed that Beauty did not overexert Pain, and neither did Pain cry in its adagios dominance over Beauty. He felt the harmony, a perfect counterpoint of two melodies that entwined and neither one could exist solely without the character of the other. The music, so beautiful and so sad climbed from him and rose to the skies. Chakotay wanted to grasp at it, and vainly did he raise his hands to the heavens, for he knew that Pain and Beauty was one, one with him and one with the lonely wolf.

He had no idea that a tear ran down his cheek.

Chakotay heard his father's voice, from afar it seemed to him, and then clearer as he became aware of his surroundings. He turned to look at his father and this time Chakotay noticed that the knife was sheathed in its leather pouch. Kolopak smiled, his smile containing all knowledge and all truth.

"I see you are no longer blind, Chakotay."

"But I will find my path to her with my eyes closed, Father..."

***

Chakotay gave a deep sigh, tried to lift his head and was surprised to feel a softness against his cheek. He drank in the spirit if the moment as he held Kathryn's hand. Like one who thirst his whole life, peace, eagerly welcomed, settled inside him. He wanted to tell Kathryn everything. He wanted to tell her, even if she couldn't hear him, how much he worshipped her. He wanted...

Then very slowly, Chakotay lost his grip on Kathryn's hands, and vaguely he felt his face dragging away from the softness. He lost his footing on the giant clouds he just walked on and tumbled, tumbled through space. He wanted to cry out at the new emptiness. Still in his haze, the Doctor's cry of alarm was the last thing Chakotay heard before he sailed noiselessly to the floor and lay in a heap.

***

"There, that should do it," Tom Paris said as the lifted Chakotay on the biobed and made him comfortable. "How long will he sleep, do you think?"

"I could keep him asleep for twenty years, Mr Paris. That should keep him out of our hair."

"Doc! Have you deleted your ethical subroutines?"

The doctor snorted as he patted Chakotay's shoulder.

"He's given us enough grief. He was going to delete me. Me!" The doctor sounded outraged and Tom stifled a laugh.

"Really, Doc. Do I suspect competition here? I'll cut the man some slack. Chakotay should be asleep for at least twelve hours - "

"Actually, he needs less than that, Mr Paris, so I've decided to...er, prolong the process somewhat." The doctor looked up at him and grinned. "Now don't try that at home when your infant is born and refuses to sleep for any length of time."

Tom gaped, closed his mouth then opened it again.

"Holy smoke! We've created a monster," Tom said when he could find his voice.

"When the Commander wakes up, it will be..."

"After Christmas..." Tom whispered, light dawning on him.

"And then he can blow off all he likes because - because..."

"What, Doc?" Tom asked, almost panting with excitement.

"Listen..."

Tom stood still as everything went quiet around him, and then, only very faintly, they heard a sound. It was a low, graceful moan. Tom swung round to face the other bed. He looked quickly from the doctor to the Captain.

"Doc...look..."

"Chakotay..." was the only word that emanated from the Captain's lips as Tom and the Doctor stared with surprise and wonder at her.

"Welcome to the world, Captain," the doctor said with a smile on his face.

The Captain's eyes were open; she looked at the two men, not really seeing them. She was staring past them, at the figure lying on the other bed. She raised her hand and it felt back limply at her side.

"Chakotay?"

*****

He must be dreaming. His head was cushioned against a soft bosom; someone was caressing the back of his hand. He frowned heavily. Where was he? Wasn't he in the rainforest with his father? His eyelids felt heavy and loath to open, but the hand that caressed his increased the urgency of the touch. A woman's hand. It felt dainty, smooth to the touch. He was holding Kathryn's hand. Kathryn was lying in a coma. He sent the doctor and Tom and Tuvok away. He was keeping a vigil at her bedside.

Wasn't he?

He tried to open his eyes, and slowly the light overhead came into focus. His hand was lifted and a whisper of a touch made it tingle. Did she kiss his hand?

Yes, that must have been. The lips kept pressing against him and he closed his eyes again. He didn't want to wonder how he came to be lying down, his hand held in Kathryn's. But the touch was gentle and warm and intimate and loving and... He saw again his father's face, heard again the words, "I see you are no longer blind, Chakotay." He heard his only reply, "I will find my path to her with my eyes closed..."

Chakotay turned his head, no more surprised when he saw Kathryn's face. She leaned forward, a teasing look in her eyes. When did Kathryn wake up? He frowned again, and when she kissed him gently on his lips, he forgot to ask her that question. Instead, he  removed his hand from hers to cup her cheek and he felt a burn behind his eyelids, the urge to cry too strong.

"Kathryn, I - "

"What is it, Chakotay?" she whispered.

"I love you, Kathryn."

She smiled as relief seemed to swamp her. She must be relieved when he said it. This time, the hope soared in him, so high that he tried to lift himself from the bed. She helped him to a sitting position and he swung his legs over the side of the bed. Chakotay noted that she was dressed in her uniform. What had been happening?

"I am the raging river," she said quietly. "I am the wolf of the lonely song..." She looked like she wanted him to deny her words.

The joy sprung from its fountain deep inside him and surged wildly. The hands that held hers pulled her gently toward him and he shifted so that she could stand in his embrace. She was alive; she was blessedly alive; her body felt soft and warm. The coma was no more. A smile hovered on her lips. She knew something.

"You were there?" he asked.

Kathryn nodded. Although he never saw her in his vision quest, she must have been a part of it. No wonder his father had been...annoyed with him. Chakotay pulled her even closer and kissed her, a soft, tentative kiss that explored and became bolder as Kathryn pressed into him and he heard a little moan escape her. When he broke off the kiss at last, he was breathing hard.

"I love you, Kathryn," he said again.

"I can't remember a time that I didn't love you, Chakotay. Forgive me..."

"Kathryn," he groaned as he  slid off the bed and pressed her very close to him. He marvelled that he could hold her like that; he was awed that she could let go of her fears and entrust him with them. Fingers that trailed paths down her cheek and rested against her lips, quivered in the onslaught of his wonder. "I lost my way. I wandered off my path..."

"Your father said that."

"He threatened me with his carving tool."

"He gave me a peace rose. I had to leave it there..."

"Forgive me, Kathryn, that I could not be patient, or that I didn't act sooner..."

Shadows played in Kathryn's eyes. He didn't have to explain more than the moment needed. Kathryn understood. Her imperceptible nod told him that his liaison with Seven rocked her foundations. Her eyes told him what he wanted to know. All confusion was gone when all else had been confusion before. He knew his path, as Kathryn knew his path. One day they could talk about it, perhaps even laugh about it. But for now, it was enough. Kathryn rested her head against him and gave a contented sigh; freedom long denied was free at last. Chakotay held her away from him, just to look at her. He couldn't get his fill of her. His world suddenly looked right, brightly lit. He was floating, back on the clouds that he had been on, cushioned comfortingly in happiness. Chakotay stroked her hair, her wonderful, soft, golden hair; he caressed her cheek, smooth to the touch; he kissed her lips that opened softly, like a butterfly, under his.

Kathryn was his.

"I almost lost you, Chakotay," she whispered.

Wasn't it the other way round? he wondered. He saw the agitation in the way her hands gesticulated, heard the quiver in her voice. He hauled her into his embrace again and held her very close.

"It's alright, Kathryn. It's alright," he comforted her.

He wanted to drown in her softness. Still, she had been in a coma after serious injury; they thought they would lose her. He thought he would lose her.

"You were very badly injured, Kathryn. We thought we would never see you again." He had to make sure, although Kathryn's eyes had lit up.

"Recovery complete," she replied huskily, splaying her fingers over his chest. 

He gave a little groan of pleasure. The tone had changed, became teasing. He frowned. "Er, when did you come out of the coma?"

"Same time you fell asleep - "

"I fell asleep!"

"Yes," she said. "You couldn't keep awake any longer, and your body just refused to obey your command."

It was true. He felt rested. Still, it was necessary that he offer the usual token resistance.

"I'm certain the doctor was very happy."

Kathryn ignored his complaint. Chakotay rolled his eyes. He had been sleeping! The sprits be! What kind of warrior was he that he couldn't watch over his Kathryn like he should have?

"So while you were sleeping, it gave me time to think, Chakotay," she said soberly. "I - I saw your father, you know. I don't know how it happened. I...don't know. I just knew that I was there because I had to tell him something..."

Then Kathryn smiled, the slow smile that turned up the corner of her mouth. He knew what was coming. She was in tease mode. He braced himself.

"So, Chakotay," she asked, her eyes shining, "are you ready to celebrate Christmas with us?"

"Christmas? What day is it? I told the senior crew to go ahead. You would have wanted them to. I was - I was going crazy, thinking I might lose you. I didn't want to leave you and - and - "

"It's the day after Christmas, Chakotay."

"What? How long did I sleep?" he asked her. Why did he even ask? His brain was still a bit fuzzy about details, and registered only that the love of his life was ensconced in his arms as if she always belonged that.

"Two days."

"What?"

"You are much rested now, and not so bullish. It seemed that when you collapsed in a heap next to my bed, I woke up from my coma."

"I missed the most important event!" he complained happily.

"And which one might that be?" Kathryn asked.

"You, coming out of your coma after I kissed you with love's first kiss."

"You never kissed me."

"Not even in my dreams? I must have. I did. Sometime when my father left, I kissed you. If I didn't, the intention was there. Kathryn, there can't be a party. I told them not to delay it. I -"

"Is that a fact? Well, I can tell you that the crew is waiting for us in the mess hall, Chakotay. I've already placed my gift under the tree. We just need to get yours."

Chakotay stared at her, still too awed that she wanted him.

"I love you."

"I know. Now, let's go. The crew is waiting for us."

"Kathryn?"

"It's an order, Commander."

He smiled broadly as they made their way to the sick bay doors. In the corridor he held her close to him as they walked to the turbolift, his hand around her waist. Once she looked up at him and he bent down to kiss her again. The kiss lingered, broken only when they heard some coughing and saw two crewmen hurrying towards the turbolifts. They  wore part hats and carried gifts. For a moment Chakotay thought that Kathryn would break away from him, but she kept her arms round his waist and beamed when she looked up at him. 

"So tell me, Kathryn, whose name did you draw for your gift?"

"You really want to know, Chakotay?"

"Why not, if I tell you for whom my gift is."

"In that case, Chakotay, let's wait and see, shall we?"

"My father was right," he said as they walked down the corridor to the turbolift.

Inside the lift, after ordering their deck, Kathryn turned to him.

"Right about what, Chakotay?"

"I'd rather have a raging river than a calm stream."

***********

END

  EMAIL