Archive of Our Own ^beta

I don't know exactly whose idea the holiday was. I know it wasn't mine. But Will Riker was an old friend of Kathryn's, and the O'Brien's were friends of Will's. And somehow, Denver and I ended up at their house in County Clare.

She had been ... gone ... for over a year. When I think about it, I realise how worried everyone was. I knew - I'd always known - that, for Denver's sake, I had to go on living. I had to 'get past' losing Kathryn. But in some ways, I got past it far too well. I'd looked after Denver, I'd kept us together, I'd kept going. Somehow, after those first few days, I never really let myself mourn her. Until that night.

It was the sort of experience that Kathryn would have dismissed. That's what made it even stranger. It wasn't like her. But then, who can say that a person's spirit continues to act as the person themselves would have?

I went down to the shore as the sun was setting. Keiko and Miles were at a big party - I'd been invited too, and I think Molly was insulted that I decided to stay. She thought I didn't trust her to look after Denver. So I left my daughter with Molly and Kirayoshi playing games in the yard. And I went down to the seashore.

There's something about the sea, and pounding waves, that calls to me. Calms me. Even in the middle of a storm, when the waves are roughest, and when the sea is its most violent, there's something about it that brings me peace. It was the same that night. Watching the waves roll in is like meditation - there is a steady noise to listen to, a rhythm _ and you can be caught up in it, like in a trance. Like in the Vision-quest.

I thought that was what it was, at first. Even though I didn't have my medicine bundle with me. It was back up at the house. But I couldn't think how else I could be seeing... what I was seeing.

I am the thousand winds that blow - I am the diamond glints of snow - I am sunlight on the ripening grain - I am the gentle autumn rain.
A woman was walking along the beach towards me... a short woman, with short red hair and an authoritative gait. Only one woman walked like that. I shook my head and blinked, sure that I was imagining her.

But I wasn't. And when she reached where I was standing, she put a gentle hand on my forearm, and spoke. No one else had her slightly raspy voice. There was nothing I could do but stare.

'Chakotay,' she said.

There was nothing I wanted to do more than to kiss her, hold her tight in my arms. But she was dead, so how was any of this possible?

'Don't ask, Chakotay,' she said. 'Just accept it. You were always better at that than I was.'

It was such a true statement that I couldn't help but smile.

'How are you?' she asked me. We were still standing, face to face, with the ocean on one side and the cliffs on the other.

'I take one day at a time,' I said. I couldn't be any less than honest with her. 'And every day feels like it lasts seven years.'

She reached up to hold my jaw in her hand. She never actually touched me, but I could 'feel' the contact. 'My poor love,' she said.

'All our friends have been wonderful,' I told her, 'but - Spirits, Kathryn, I miss you! I don't know how I've lived...'

'You've had one very good reason to live,' she said. 'Denver. My little red-headed scamp. Our daughter.'

'I know that, Kathryn,' I replied. 'But without you...'

She smiled. 'I can't come back, my love. I live in your memories now. Seventeen years.'

'Sixteen and a half,' I corrected her.

'Still a lot of days - a lot of hours - a lot of minutes. So many memories.' She sat down on the sand, facing out to the ocean, and I sat down next to her. For a while we just watched the waves. She watched the waves, I watched her. I drank in the sight of her, terrified she would be snatched away without warning. 'What's your favourite memory?' she asked, without taking her eyes from the sea and the distant horizon.

'There are too many to name just one.'

'Try,' she said, looking at me. 'For me.'

I sighed, and thought hard. 'The day you first told me you loved me,' I said, then changed my mind. 'No - the day Voyager docked and we took Denver to meet her grandmother. You were so beautiful, the day was so beautiful, and your mother hugged me and told me I would never be without a family again.' A tear slid down my cheek. She raised her hand to it, and though I know she didn't actually touch me, the tear was gone.

'That's still true, Chakotay.' She paused. 'Would you like to know my favourite memory?'

'Of course.'

'It was at the end of our third year... just before Seven joined us. You told me I would never be alone. That meant so much to me.'

'I would have kissed you then, if it hadn't been for Tuvok.'

She laughed. 'And if you hadn't kissed me, I would have kissed you.' We both laughed then. 'Instead, I waited another three years,' she finished.

'Damn that Vulcan!' I replied, not meaning a word of it. 'He did me out of three years of bliss.'

She jumped up and held out a hand. 'Come on, let's go for a walk.'

I didn't dare try to take her hand. The illusion, however it was caused, was fragile enough, and so was I. So I scrambled up by myself, and walked beside her.

'We're two of a kind, you and I,' she said. 'Our favourite memories - they're both about knowing that we'll never be alone.'

The waves rolled up the beach and over our feet. The water was icy cold, but I didn't move from her side.

'We were both lonely people for a long time,' I said.

She nodded. 'That's true.'

'And I'm going to be lonely now.'

'No, you're not,' she said, and for the first time, I heard that "captain's" voice. 'You have people who love you, Chakotay, and my mother was right. You will always have a family. You will always have her, and you will always have Denver. And you will always have our other family.'

'The crew?'

She nodded. 'It's no ordinary crew... there's a lot of love between us all.'

'I know.'

She reached up with her hand again, and I felt the warmth, though not her touch, on my face. 'My poor love - you have so many people to depend on. You don't need me.'

'But it's not the same.'

'Things change, Chakotay. Sometimes we don't want them to, but we adapt.' She smiled.

So did I. 'Resistance is futile?' I asked.

'Something like that.' Her fingers hovered by my lips, and I closed my eyes. I felt her kiss me. 'Goodbye, my love,' she said. When I opened my eyes, the pressure left my lips.

She turned away, and I watched her recede from view - not so much walking as fading away. 'Chakotay,' I heard her say, though her back was to me, 'Just accept, and be happy.'

When in the early morning hush you awake, I am the rush of gentle birds in circling flight. I am the glowing stars that shine at night.
In the end, I don't think it matters whether it was a vision-quest, or alien intervention, or just an hallucination. All that matters was that I saw her. And I could talk to her, and that I could finally accept that she wasn't coming back.

When, for so long, you haven't allowed yourself to mourn, your sadness can overpower you. When you fight it back, it only comes out ten times stronger. When that vision of Kathryn... when she left me, I just sat down on the sand and sobbed. I cried my heart out, the way I hadn't done since Denver called out to me that night. I have no idea how long I stayed there, but when I got back to the house, every one was asleep. I didn't dare to look at a chronometer - I just peeked in at Denver, sleeping on a camp bed next to Molly, and went to bed.

But I knew that something was different. A weight had left my shoulders. A weight I hadn't even known was there.

It meant that I was able to go on.

So do not stand by my grave and cry - I am not there; I did not die.