The BLTS Archive - The Game of the Stones (formerly called Edinburgh Fragments) by Claudia --- Disclaimer: Paramount own everything and everyone except for the children. The game doesn't exist, I made it up. Author's notes: The story started out on a postcard for Fabienne from Edinburgh, Scotland in February. I started adding episodes from Kathryn and Chakotay's life on New Earth in loosely connected intervals, this is why it's called Edinburg Fragments—and after all I needed a working title, too. This wouldn't have been possible without Fabienne's help, she helped me a great deal with its ending. Thanks, dear. Written: 2-8/00 --- Kathryn surfaced, gasping for air. She smoothed her wet hair back from her face. The smile on her face and in her eyes was priceless, something that was still very precious to Chakotay. He was sitting on the soft grass of their beach, carving stones for an ancient board game he wanted to teach her, and every once in awhile he looked up to watch her swim. She had been in the water for quite a while now, and he was concerned about her. He didn't want her to catch a cold. The thought made him smile, because he used to frown at his mother when she insisted that he come out of the water. He could understand her now. Chakotay grabbed Kathryn's towel and went to the edge of the river where it pooled in a small, natural basin. "You're a treasure," Kathryn said when he wrapped the fluffy fabric around her shivering form. Her lips were blue, and her teeth were all but clattering. Chakotay just smiled. "How are the stones coming?" she wanted to know. She was genuinely curious about the game. "Quite well if it weren't for you," Chakotay smirked, and stole a kiss from her bluish lips. "I don't believe you," she whispered, stood on tiptoe, and pulled him close by the neck. --- Chakotay slipped under the covers she was holding up invitingly for him. He slid his half-naked body close to Kathryn's as she pulled the covers protectively around and over them. After they had made themselves comfortable, they lay still for a long time, enjoying their closeness, listening to the soft tunes of the planet's night. It was late summer, and with the protection of the fly-screen they could be sure not to be pestered by the reason for their being marooned here. Well, at first they had thought of their being on the planet in that way, but in the two years they had lived here, they had made peace with their situation. The plasma storm early into their stay had destroyed Kathryn's hopes for finding a remedy for their illness. Chakotay still thought that that had been among the best things that had ever happened to him. For after that, Kathryn had come to love their life together, and she had finally admitted her love for him. It was moments like this, when they lay snuggled up against each other, that he was most conscious and grateful for their fate. For who could tell what their lives would have turned to be had they lived on Voyager? Voyager. Their ship seemed a lifetime away. Well, it probably was. Perhaps they had already found a way back to the Alpha Quadrant, maybe they were still looking for a wormhole, or the Caretaker's mate, or whatever shortcut the Delta Quadrant provided for the travellers. Any other possibility—a more powerful alien race, the Borg, a crash—never found its way into either of their thoughts. They had found their peace here, and they hoped that their crews would find it as well. "So," Chakotay turned his head at Kathryn to look at her in the dimness, "what is it you wanted to tell me?" She had insisted that only the bed was the right place to tell him. Why their bed was the right one of all places, Chakotay couldn't begin to imagine, nor what it could be that required this setting. "Well, I wanted to tell you here, because it was here that it was made—I think so at least," Kathryn said secretively, as though she had read his mind. She turned and looked him straight in the eyes. Then she found his hand, and made him touch her belly with it, palm flat on the satin fabric of her night-gown. "Chakotay, we're going to be parents." --- Kathryn lovingly watched her oldest teach Nell and little Stella the Game of the Stones Chakotay had finished the day she had conceived Choshovi. It was incredible that eight years had passed since then. She had to smile at the thought that the Game of the Stones they had played so often was just as ancient as the Legend of the Angry Warrior had been. Little did her children know about that, but that was fine. It was one of the many treasures she shared with Chakotay alone. Maybe she would tell them one day. She resumed her reading, and soon didn't hear or see anything going on around her anymore: the crackling of the fire, Chakotay's clattering away in the kitchen, the children's seriousness about their game, the wind outside the house that whirled the thick, heavy snowflakes in eddies through the icy night-air. In a way this was the life she had always wanted, but she still missed Voyager. She often caught herself lost in thought, wondering about where Voyager would be now. It was then that she realised that it was rather her crew she missed, than life in constant danger. A life aboard Voyager would have hardly allowed her a family like she had now. Then, her family had been her crew. She wondered whether Tom and B'Elanna had stopped fighting and finally had become friends, she thought about Kes who by now was either a very old woman or had gone on to another level of being. Had she ever had children of her own? Kathryn hoped so. She loved her children. Choshovi, her only boy, who would very likely be the spitting image of his father, and who was absorbing every bit of Chakotay's heritage like a sponge. The girls took after their mother, with Stella, however, blessed with her father's rich dark hair. Nell was very quiet, and somehow, she had inherited her aunt Phoebe's talent for art. Her drawings were very sophisticated for a seven-year-old, and they were all over the walls in the house. However only five, Stella had her older siblings firmly under her command. Kathryn doubted that was because of her being the youngest; she believed that her little star had inherited her sense of leadership. Kathryn jumped as she felt Chakotay's lips pressing a kiss on the crown of her head. "Are you there, love?" he whispered, so the children couldn't hear him. "No, I left an hour ago," she replied, still smiling at this old private joke of theirs. Kathryn let out a long breath. "Aren't they beautiful?" "Just as beautiful as their mother," Chakotay replied softly. "Now come on, dinner's ready." --- Parents are neither supposed to get sick nor to die. If that happens, the safe world of a child is shattered. If that happens it breaks the surviving parent's heart, for both their own and their children's sakes. Some survive better than others, and Kathryn Janeway was among the first. Chakotay died after eleven days of fighting a cerebral haemorrhage. Nell who one day had found her father on his knees in the kitchen, clutching his head and tears of pain streaming down his agonised face never quite recovered from seeing her father like this. At that time she had been on her own with him, the others had gone to the river for a swim. Somehow she had urged her father to drag himself into the living room, where he had collapsed for good. At the age of nine she did realise that he was very ill, but she couldn't diagnose a coma, nor grasp its significance. She knew, though, what a painkiller was. Kathryn could never thank her enough for giving Chakotay a dose of the potent medicine without thinking. There was nothing they could do. Neither of them had the knowledge necessary to cure an injury like that, let alone the equipment. And yet Nell kept blaming herself for her inability to help her father. She was deeply ashamed of herself and couldn't stand being alone with just one member of the family. Chakotay had been very close to his eldest daughter, and so it was no wonder that she suffered most of all. It was a long time until she used her pencils, brushes and chalks again. Once she had recovered that far, it was only a matter of hours of frantic work that she transformed all her emotions into pictures. Those pictures were the most beautiful, powerful and darkest Kathryn had ever seen. In a way those drawings depicting memories, emotions and musings helped the others to heal, but most of all they helped Kathryn. She had dug up her perfect façade from her past to cover up her depression at having lost yet another beloved one. Since there were the children to look after she couldn't afford wasting the days away under the covers of her big, cold bed. Instead, her children's tears and questions and unacceptable behaviour kept her sane. When Nell finally confronted them with the images of her mind it was as though a spell had been broken. Now Kathryn smiled when she looked at the portraits of Chakotay that adorned the walls of their house. And every now and then she would even open the folder containing the pictures of a sick Chakotay, and remember the long nights in which she had sat with Chakotay by the fireside in the living-room, waiting for release. The strangest thing ever was the complete feeling of peace once she'd freed herself from her anger and helplessness. At some point of time she even ceased asking herself why this had happened. At least she didn't ask every minute of the day anymore. --- "Mom?" Kathryn's head jerked up from her reading. She squinted at her son against the gentle light of early dusk. He was the spitting image of his father. The only thing that distinguished him from Chakotay was the missing tattoo. There had never been time enough for him to get it. Kathryn shaded her eyes. "Yes, love?" He handed her a drink. "What will life on Voyager be like?" She wasn't sure how to reply—not anymore. It had been twenty years, so much had probably changed. Somehow she was certain that everything had changed for the better. "It will be like a big family, Choshovi," she offered him. "I still can't believe we're going to live there," he admitted. He was wearing one of his father's shirts, which was slightly too big for him. Kathryn extended her hand for him to sit down next to her. "Me neither. Are you still sure you want to do this?" She was thinking of Chakotay, Nell and Stella. No one would be there to look after the place where her husband was buried, or to wait for her two daughters who had been missing for almost two years now. Hopes of their eventually coming home were low. But Choshovi and she had talked this over. They wanted to go home, to Voyager, for the home on New Earth was hardly their home after Chakotay and the girls had died. What was more, Kathryn knew that she wouldn't live forever either, even if Choshovi chose to ignore that fact, and she didn't want him to live on New Earth on his own. One of them had to be the last of them to die. The worst thing Kathryn could imagine was leading a solitary life and dying alone, without someone to hold your hand and to take care of your body. And she wanted him to see what Chakotay and she had always told them about, wanted to offer him a chance to fall in love and to have a family of his own. He couldn't have either of that on New Earth. The risks of life in space were worth it, no one knew that better than Kathryn. And she had taken good care to tell her children everything, both the good things and the dangers. They had grown up with the stories about Voyager, but had always been spared the gory details. But now Choshovi knew everything. And together, they had made their choice. Kathryn wanted to cry at the thought that only Choshovi had the chance to experience life aboard Voyager, and hopefully the joys of having a family of his own. If it hadn't been for her son, Kathryn wouldn't have made it this far. Yes, it tore her heart apart to leave the place where she had been happiest, but what happiness could possibly be left for Choshovi when she, eventually, would have to leave him all on his own? She could bear that thought even less than leaving New Earth, so she had made a decision. It hadn't been easy for her, because it meant giving her daughters up for good. They had gone on an away mission on their own, to witness a plasma storm from above the stratosphere. Both of them were experienced pilots, even though they couldn't benefit from having Tom Paris teach them. So Kathryn hadn't worried too much when they'd gone on that mission. Little did she know that they would never return. If only she knew for certain that they were dead. In a way that would be a relief beyond measure. If only she knew what had happened to them. Had it been an accident, or had they been attacked by the Kazon—or worse even, the Vidiians? Voyager's arrival had been a shock to both of them. After all those years, neither of them had thought of the possibility of their coming back for them. Fortunately, Tom had expected that, and had at first contacted Kathryn by a letter rather than her communicator. As it turned out, they had acquired different pieces of technology over the past years, and after extensive research and testing they had been able to develop a new drive which enabled them to travel at transwarp speed in some kind of a channel in the matrix of space. Kathryn hadn't quite understood the principle yet, but it sounded very promising—and interesting. It had been so good to hear Tom's voice again that Kathryn had broken into tears after she had closed the com-link. Voyager was in New Earth's orbit, waiting for them to make a decision. "Have you told Tom yet?" Choshovi wanted to know after sharing the quiet with his mother for a while. "No," Kathryn shook her head. "You aren't having second thoughts, are you?" he wanted to know. Kathryn smiled at him. "No," she replied softly. "It's just that ... the thought of returning to Earth is so strange." "But that's what you've always wanted," her son pointed out. "Yes, but this is your home," Kathryn began. "But for how long?" asked Choshovi. "I don't like the idea of living here all alone. I know it won't be easy at the beginning, but we have each other, and it's not as though we didn't know the first thing about Starfleet." --- Choshovi descended the two steps from the transporter platform to accept the welcome. He recognised Tom Paris instantaneously, although he was now a commander, and not a lieutenant any more. He was a tall man, his body muscular beneath the immaculate dress uniform. The balding at his temples had given way to silver strands. His smile was as mischievous as ever, and Choshovi immediately noticed the broad golden band on his left ring finger. The man next to him Choshovi recognised as Harry Kim, now promoted to lieutenant commander, and as such probably Paris' second in command. He too was wearing a dress uniform, and was fidgeting with anticipation. Kathryn smiled. Harry hadn't changed a bit. "Welcome back, Captain!" Tom greeted her formally, feeling a little bit awkward. It been such a long time. Kathryn stepped from the platform after her son. She was thinner than Tom remembered her to be, and there were more lines in her tanned, freckled face. There were quite a few silver strands in her auburn hair which she had swept up into a lose bun. But other than that she still looked the same. It was unbelievable that unless she went to Sickbay within the hour she would die, as would her son. "Thank you, Tom," Kathryn said, a tear glittering in the corners of her eyes. Instead of shaking Tom's hand, she hugged him. And she hugged Harry, who smiled self-consciously at Choshovi over her shoulder. After introducing her son, they immediately beamed to Sickbay so the Doctor could begin his treatment. He literally flew into Kathryn's arms. "It's so good to see you again, Captain!" Kathryn smiled at him. "And you, Doctor. May I introduce you to my son Choshovi." Choshovi shook the hologram's hand. He'd never met a hologram before, but his parents had told him so many stories about the EMH that it felt like meeting an old friend now. He said that. "Why, thank you, Mr Janeway," the Doctor shrugged off. "With all due respect, but your mother doesn't know jack about Doc," Tom whispered loudly. The Doc was mock-miffed. "But whatever she's told you about this man here is still accurate." Choshovi couldn't quite join in his mother's laughter. It was the first time he heard her laugh in ages. He couldn't even begin to say how grateful he was for their rescue. They had been aboard Voyager only for a couple minutes, but it already seemed as though his mother was finding back to her former self. --- Voyager had changed more than they could have imagined. Kathryn had never succumbed to the illusion of everything being the same as it had always been. Twenty years was a hell of a long time, and changes were prone to happen. Some of them she was happy to learn about, but she was also sad, and some things downright dumbfounded her. Among them was Harry's wife Annika. Freed from the Borg she still was a kind of a female Pinocchio—a very female Pinocchio, considering her breathtaking curves—, she was still looking for her humanity. Even though she had come a long way already. But she wasn't the only of her kind aboard Voyager. A couple of years after her rescue five children the Borg had abandoned as faulty drones had been picked up by the crew. One of the children had still been an infant whereas the others had been in their teens or Naomi Wildman's age respectively. Annika and Harry had adopted the baby since the Doctor hadn't been able to give back to Annika her ability to have children. Those children, including Naomi and a couple of other crew's offspring, were old enough to have children of their own by now. Kathryn didn't at once recognise the young woman who was in charge of Sickbay that day, but somehow she seemed familiar. When she saw the three spikes on her forehead, though, it came back to her. Naomi Wildman had covered the spikes with her hair, but now that Kathryn had identified her she noticed the similarity between her and her mother. She found it striking, particularly in their pregnancy. Naomi was about five months along. "I remember holding you when you were a baby," Kathryn told her. "It seems as though it's been only yesterday." She winced when she realised how awfully old-womanish that must sound. Naomi joined her in her laughter. "That's something Choshovi and I have in common. He grew up with stories about Voyager, I grew up with stories about you and Commander Chakotay," Naomi told her while she took a blood sample from Kathryn. They needed to check if the antidote to the mysterious virus that had had her marooned on new Earth for two decades worked. "Am I living up to my reputation?" "Why, certainly," Naomi said. They were silent for a while. Then Kathryn began: "I'm not sure I want to captain Voyager again, though." They were sitting in the doctors' office, both having a cup of coffee in front of them. This was one of the miracles that had happened. Neelix had finally come up with a concoction of ersatz coffee that didn't offend everyone's taste buds—or the colour of their tongues. This little story was one of the crews' favourites. A couple of years ago all the coffeeholics had turned up for duty with bright yellow tongues one morning. On top of that, they had scheduled a first contact with a benign alien race that day, a first contact on which a lot depended. In the end, they had made friends with this race, had found important allies in them. They had enjoyed their special protection while travelling their sector—which took almost three years to cross. Hence they were known to many other races as the Yellow Tongues. Naomi didn't ask her why. She knew that, eventually, Captain Janeway would come up with an answer herself. People needed to explain themselves to others just to find out what exactly they were thinking about an important decision. That way they were able to either find flaws or a solution. Naomi herself had often benefited from that, and she was glad to being able to return the favour—even though not to her listener. "Commander Paris has captained Voyager so well, and for far more years than I have. And before him Tuvok, God bless his soul. It wouldn't be fair to claim credit for something I haven't accomplished." She sighed. "Frankly, I don't consider myself much of a Starfleet officer anymore. It has been twenty years. I'm more of a housewife by now." Naomi reached out to cover her hand with hers. "No, you're an explorer. You've done remarkable research of the planetary system and New Earth itself." "That's very sweet of you to say, Naomi. Yet I don't think I can captain Voyager. Not anymore." If only Chakotay were still with her. Or Tuvok. But they were gone. They would have been able to talk to her and to understand her. Naomi Wildman was a very nice young woman, but she didn't know her at all. Naomi didn't know how to address her, what to say to remind her of her pride, of the vow she'd once taken. Even if they had reminded her of the vow to bring her crew back home Kathryn wouldn't have been able to live up to it. Tom Paris had taken over that vow from her. He had taken that burden to bear by himself, more because he had come to love Voyager and her people than to purge his misdemeanours. Taking over from here wouldn't be possible at all. The discovery and acquisition of the new drive were his merit alone. Taking over from here would be highly unpopular with the crew—most of which didn't even know Kathryn Janeway. To most of them she was just the one whom they owed their being stranded here; an old woman who'd lost all her family but her son; a captain turned scientist; a highly literate, intelligent lady who didn't know the first thing about the Delta Quadrant because she'd spent the best part of her life on a beautiful planet; the wife of a traitor. "Thank you anyway, Naomi," she said quietly. Then she stood and left Sickbay, doubting ever more whether her decision to leave New Earth had been right. "I never thought you'd not want your command back," Tom admitted. Kathryn and he were sitting on the sofa under the viewports of the Ready Room. She was nursing a cup of coffee, whereas Tom had treated himself to a cup of raktajino. "I haven't captained in twenty years. The crew have come accustomed to your command. And if I recall correctly, it's thanks to you that Voyager has finally found a means to get home. It wouldn't be very popular with the crew if I took over now, apart from the fact that I couldn't do it in good conscience," Kathryn explained. Tom didn't say anything, he just nodded. "Smile," she whispered. It wasn't easy for her to give Voyager up for good, even after twenty years on New Earth. "Thank you." For once, Tom Paris was tongue-tied. --- Everyone was present in the conference room, acting captain Paris, his first officer Kim, security officer Hansen, OPS officer Icheb, Neelix, the Doctor, chief engineer Torres, counsellor Frazier, and Kathryn Janeway. They were seated around the oval shaped table, waiting for the things to come. Since the return of Captain Janeway, everyone was full of anticipation. Their lives had changed tremendously during her absence. There had been promotions as well as demotions, changes in personnel, which admittedly had been debatable, but never unpopular. And although there was little doubt of Janeway's going back to the big chair, the atmosphere was tense, and the crew were on Paris' side. After having held a small speech, Kathryn got in medias res. Anticipation was strong, so she didn't want to strain everyone's nerves any longer. "I realise there have been changes aboard Voyager, which is perfectly natural. There have been small changes and big ones. The biggest recent one was my and my son's arrival." Her eyes were wandering from one to the other, maybe lingered a little bit longer on the strange faces. "I have reviewed the logs, and particularly the reports about big changes aboard Voyager. It has been strange to me at first, yes, but after careful consideration I agree with Commander Paris. So, nothing will change. I have just told Mr Paris that I do not intend to take over command again. Please note in the logs that the former Commander Paris is now Chief Commanding Officer, and as of now Captain Paris." Tom blanched. Of all things this he had expected the least. His promotion to Commander had been surprise enough, but this ... "I don't know what to say," he managed eventually. "Thank you would be the appropriate term, I believe," Annika commented. The low chuckles relieved the tension visibly. "Yes," Kathryn nodded. Then Tom stood and let her attach the fourth pin to his collar. Kathryn caught the pride flashing up in B'Elanna's eyes. "Congratulations, Captain." --- "Your mother is an unusual woman." Choshovi put his mug down and turned in his seat. Fabienne was standing next to him, a tray with food in hand. She was the captain's oldest daughter, but looked like a younger version of her mother. The bony ridges on her forehead weren't that pronounced, though, and her eyes held the mischievous twinkle of her father's. She wore a blue-shouldered medical gown over her civvies. "So is yours," Choshovi said. He gestured for her to have a seat. Once she had settled in the chair opposite him, he poured her a glass of lemonade. "Do you have any news about our tests?" The latest blood samples hadn't been examined yet when he'd last been in Sickbay. If everything turned out well, he wouldn't have to pay the doctors a visit for a long time. He didn't like the idea. Fabienne nodded. "I'd declare you fit for duty if you were a member of the crew." It wasn't directed at him, he knew that, yet it hurt. Even though still a Starfleet officer, his mother wasn't really a member of the crew. Choshovi himself was but a civilian passenger. He couldn't get rid of the impression that maybe they had made a mistake. Particularly when he thought of his sisters. It had been a long time, but what if they returned after all? He jumped as she covered his hand with hers. "I'm sorry, I—" "No, it's quite all right," he dismissed and pulled his hand away. "Why do I have the feeling it isn't, then?" Fabienne was persistent. "Maybe I expected too much." He picked at the vegetables on his plate. "Sometimes I have the impression as though…" He didn't finish the sentence. Fabienne heaved a sigh. "No one considers you stupid, or savage because you—" "Why, thank you very much. If you'd excuse me, please?" Choshovi grabbed his tray, dumped it into the recycler, and left the Mess Hall. Fabienne could have slapped herself. She hadn't meant to be patronising, on the contrary. She liked Choshovi a lot, and she wanted him to feel welcome. But something told her he didn't want that. Not yet. But their journey was nearing an end, and there wasn't much time left. --- "Captain, I'm picking up a Starfleet distress call," Icheb reported. It still felt strange to address Paris by his new title. And he was sure that Paris found it even stranger. He was out of his seat at once. "Miss Kim, set a course. Anything I need to know, Mr Icheb?" "It's video only, sir, and the automated signal seems to have been sending for quite a long time. It is getting weaker." "How long until we get there?" Tom turned to his best friend's daughter. She was the youngest pilot, but the best he'd ever had. He watched her doing some calculations. At last she said: "130 minutes at current speed, Captain." "Shall I display the distress call, sir?" Icheb wanted to know, his fingers at the ready at his console. In all those years they had never picked up another Federation signal before. Although now it would probably be but a rescue mission, it once had meant a possible way home. But even now that they had found a means, they were no less close. Tom braced himself on the railing that separated the command level from the con. "On screen." --- Kathryn had opened only a few of the boxes that held her belongings. Most of them were in one of the cargobays. The journey to the Alpha Quadrant wasn't going to take long, and so she wouldn't need all her things. Moreover, she wouldn't have to pack them away again. Some of the boxes contained her daughters' belongings. It hadn't been easy to pack up all those things, so many memories clung to every single piece. She had been asking herself again and again whether it was right to leave New Earth without news from her children. It was, after all, a situation like Voyager's. But if truth be told, she was more afraid of giving them up by leaving than anything else. Reason told her that after thirteen months chances for their return were non-existent, but she was a mother. She couldn't help it. She had unpacked Nell's artwork and the photographs they'd taken, and the Game of the Stones. Choshovi and she still loved to play it, and since they were equally good at it, it never lost its attraction. Kathryn picked up one of the carved stones, the one Chakotay had made while watching her swim. The memory of the day was still very vivid. It must have been the one she'd got pregnant with Choshovi. She couldn't be sure from a scientific point of view, but her instincts were stronger. They had grown stronger the longer they'd lived on New Earth. She'd learned to trust them, to rely on them, and had found herself more content. She caressed the smooth surface of the stone with her palm, remembering Chakotay's hands carving the very familiar symbols into its surface. She missed him so much it hurt. If only he could be with her now. Maybe it was better this way. God knew what the Alpha Quadrant was like now. She was very eager to find out about that, but at the same time she was afraid of it. They didn't know what to expect at all. "Paris to Janeway." Startled, she touched her combadge. For a split second she wondered how instinctive the action still was. "Yes?" "Captain, there is something you should come see," Tom told her. He sounded strange, as though something were constricting his throat. Her stomach knotted. "I'm on my way." Kathryn had to remind him not to address her by that again. It wasn't right. --- Two hours later, Kathryn and Choshovi were relieved of their worry for Nell and Stella. Their shuttle had crashed on an asteroid. As far as Doc could tell, Nell had been killed instantly, whereas Stella had survived ten more days—the maximum time a shuttle could sustain life. "I would like to bury them on New Earth," Kathryn said almost tunelessly. Her face was a perfect mask of her former command calm. B'Elanna had repaired the life-support system of the small shuttle so they could beam down without having to trouble themselves with EVA-suits. Kathryn was kneeling next to the bunk on which Nell's body lay. Stella must have bedded her there, and cleaned her up as well as possible, so she looked asleep. The cold had preserved their bodies. She brushed her hair, then kissed her good-bye. Then she turned to her youngest. Kathryn knew that her littlest one had only fallen asleep, had probably not suffered any pain. Later, the Doc told her that she had taken a pain-killer, but he assured her that even if she hadn't, there still wouldn't have been any pain. That didn't alter the fact that she'd died alone. She kissed her good-bye, too. It was easier for her than she'd thought. But two years was an awful lot of time in which she had more or less prepared for this day to come—even if her heart wouldn't admit that, of course. It didn't mean that she wasn't going to grieve for them. She would, and it was going to take her a long time to get over them. But she knew that eventually, she would be all right, and would be able to live with the guilt of surviving her children. --- "I'm so sorry," Fabienne whispered. She touched Choshovi's shoulder tentatively as he sat cross-legged in front of his sisters' graves. "Thank you," he said, never turning around. Before Fabienne withdrew her hand, though, he covered it with his. "Please stay a while with me." Surprised, she sat down next to him. For a while, neither of them said anything. But suddenly Choshovi began to tell her about his life on new Earth, about his father and his sisters. He told her of the game of stones they'd loved so much to play, about the many other games they had played, the fun they'd had. He told her about holding them in his arms when he had been little himself, about how protective he'd always felt, about the grief for their dad, how Nell had been inconsolable for a long time after that. How beautiful she and Stella had been, how they had teased and annoyed and loved him. How eagerly they had listened to their parents' stories of Voyager. "I'm sorry for having been rude to you. I didn't mean it," he said finally. "That's quite all right," she replied in surprise. Again, they shared the silence. "I like your name. It's beautiful," Choshovi eventually said, mustering all his courage. Fabienne snorted like her father. "It's the name of a famous skier. Dad loves skiing. Come on, we have to go now." Choshovi nodded. He had made his peace here. Now that he knew about his sisters he could move on, he had to move on. He stood, pulled Fabienne to her feet, and slipped his hand into hers. A warm feeling spread in the pit of his stomach. He was ready to go. Before they dematerialised she asked him: "Will you teach me the Game of the Stones?" And she slipped two new stones into his palm. She had found them by the riverbank earlier. They were shaped perfectly for the game, but she hadn't picked them up on purpose, without an ulterior motive. She had just liked them. Choshovi had left each of his sisters her favourite stone, and for the game to be complete, he would need two new ones. Choshovi looked at her askance, but he accepted the stones. He weighed and scrutinised them carefully. "This one is going to be yours," he told her, showing her the one that wasn't quite smooth. The soft ridges carved by the river reminded him of her heritage. The other one was slightly bigger and had a natural line running across it, dividing it into two halves. "And this one is going to be ours." --- The End