Summary: The first part of a novel that I titled
"Home". Voyager is given the means to
return to the Alpha Quadrant. Chakotay overhears
Kathryn and the life they began in the
DQ falls apart. Angst.
Copyright 2001 Cassatt
"Mark..."
That was almost the last comprehensible word he heard until they reached the Alpha Quadrant. The light behind his eyelids was blinding as he tried to focus on the woman sitting to the right of his command chair. He saw a far away look on her face as the report from engineering fell from her grasp. It seemed to take forever to hit the carpeting, floating and flipping once before a soft noise signaled touchdown.
At that moment other sounds threatened to intrude in his brain but thankfully he could only hear a rushing one, the volume increasing as his thoughts came to a crashing stop. Almost a stop. Not a stop at all.
He heard himself say something that even he couldn't understand as he rose from his chair and stumbled off the bridge. Past the noiseless cheers of the bridge crew, the hands clapping him on the back that he barely felt, to the turbolift where the buzzing in his ears reverberated off the walls. Walking through the corridor toward his office he again heard something. Over the comm system. Was that her voice? From the exuberant reaction of crew members he saw, it must have been her. Telling them. Voyager was almost home.
His hand acted entirely on its own to open the office door. Blissful silence welcomed him into his sanctuary. He looked at the padds in front of him after settling into the chair's embrace. Perhaps in an effort to keep his mind from continuing its ruthless path to excruciating pain he tried to read some. The words swam as the light blinded him again. Closing his eyes had no effect, other than to take distraction away and allow his mind to begin anew.
In all of the months they had been involved he never believed he'd hear that word come out of her mouth. Not at a time like this. The trouble between them over the past week would never be resolved now for he was the one who usually made the first move to reconcile, putting forth the effort to close gaps. Gaps of communication, of hurt feelings, of time too easily taken away by responsibilities. But now, what was the point. He felt the pain begin, a small dull ache quickly blossoming into a deep, soul searing agony. He knew he had lost her. And to a married man. Maybe he never had her at all.
With one loud wail the tears came. He cried until he could no longer produce them.
Days became a blur. Waking up without her was almost more than he could bear and he leapt out of bed within seconds of consciousness to escape the emptiness. He knew the crew was working hard to prepare for their rendezvous but he spent most of his time on the holodeck. Rationing of holodeck privileges was irrelevant now and he took full advantage of that.
His boxing program ran four and five hours a day as he pummeled bags and opponents with equal verve. He saw the concern in Boothby's eyes but he ignored it. As he did everyone else's as well. The more he struck out the less it hurt inside. He was becoming quite efficient at avoiding his sparring partner's jabs for each time a blow landed on his face it reminded him of the pain in his chest. He did whatever he could to keep that at bay. Over and over and over he hit, and punched, and pounded. The workout in hell.
There were times when his friends intruded into the silence. They tried to talk to him, cajole him into confession, sweet talk him into revealing his pain. He became efficient at avoiding these jabs, too. Some part of him knew he should feel bad about deserting the crew in their effort to get the ship home but he just couldn't. He wouldn't allow himself that luxury. Survival was his task.
There were times when she invaded as well. Just a few. He would actually perceive her mouth to be moving but not a sound was understandable. Words came at him and fell to the floor repelled by forces he had little control over. Only once did something break through. She mentioned the Maquis. Possible trouble of some sort. She had taken care of it. He didn't believe a word she said. He knew what awaited him and didn't care.
As he stepped off the shuttle on Earth, the throng of people surrounding him, the noise almost unbearable, he saw four Federation men approach him.
"You are Chakotay, former Captain of the Maquis ship Liberty?"
These words he understood perfectly. "Yes."
"You are under arrest."
He willingly put his hands out to be clamped, a feeling of peace and
deliverance descending upon him. He didn't look back as he was led from
the shuttle bay, didn't see if anyone noticed him leaving though he knew
Tuvok was not 10 feet away. He didn't care to see the impassive Vulcan
exterior reflect his own.
End part 1
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