The BLTS Archive - Find The River
by Ananke (aeteananke@gmail.com)

---

Published: 07-04-04 - Updated: 07-04-04

Note: Response to lyrics challenge, lyrics by REO
Speedwagon, Find The River.

Disclaimer: Star Trek: Voyager and all related characters
owned by Paramount Studios. No copyright infringement
intended.

---
But I tell you and you can see/We're closer now than
light years to go...
---

You enjoy the darkness of a void, and there's no better
place to take in the view than the Astrometrics lab. She
doesn't come here, the Captain.

She hasn't come here in more than thirteen years.

The seat you took more than two hours ago seems welded to
your old and weary back, and you think to rise...soon. The
word is one of the few that draws genuine amusement from any
of the crew these days. They've all stopped minding the
years passing by.

At times it comes far too easily, a secret desire that it
would end...the journey, your existence. You have no
preference for order. Soon, either way, you believe there
will finally be peace to be found in fate.

"Chakotay."

There is no moonlight here, no starlight to be seen. Framed
in garish corridor lighting, she looks as battered and faded
as you sometimes feel. A voice once suggestive of sultry old
screen divas and rough wine suddenly grates more than it
ever has.

You try not to pity her; pity isn't something Kathryn
Janeway understands.

"Kathryn."

There are no doubtful actions by now, in scarce seconds
purposeful strikes carry her beyond an imaginary force
field, to your side.

"Is there a special occasion, Captain?" You ask, with only
the smallest hint of sarcasm.

She plows on, one hand propped on hip, the other wringing
your bad shoulder. "Tom believes we may be able to navigate
out of this..." The hand thankfully lifts away, waving to
the view port in bitter acknowledgment. "...void...within
the week."

Paris is losing his touch along with his hair; thirteen
years ago he could have...had...done the same in under a
day.

A day had been too long for your wife.

You forcibly dismiss memories, turning attention back to the
here and now. "Then we should be capable of reestablishing
communications with Command."

"Precisely, Commander," White slivered hair bounces as her
head is thrown back, teeth gleaming against darkness in a
smile. You reach up to touch a flyaway strand, caressing it
absently between thumb and index finger. The texture is
wheat, dead...the color of mother's milk.

A hand covers your own, pulling it away gently, her head
shakes again.

"Good."

"If we can arrange to integrate the new transwarp technology
we were briefed on during the last data stream transmission
we should be on our way...home situation considered, I
recommend that we head for the Gamma Quadrant and proceed to
Earth at normal warp speed from there...Chakotay, talk to
me."

The puzzlement on her face can't erase the lack of focus in
blue eyes...or focus elsewhere. Victory is so close Kathryn
can taste it; you've come to recognize the symptoms over
more than twenty-three years. "I'm happy for you."

You are, in a certain sense, happy for her and amazed that
such anticipation is still possible for any member of
Voyager's crew.

"And not for yourself?"

There can be no answer to that.

She nods and then her gaze centers again, eyes swiveling to
take in your surroundings. "Why are you here, Chakotay?"

You couldn't put it to proper wordage, couldn't expect a
woman like Janeway to understand the invisible cords that
bind you to this dark, rarely used hole. You couldn't expect
her to understand that here and only here, Seven lingers
still. That this was hers, that this grants you peace.

So you smile to reassure the Captain, letting the brief
glint outwardly belay wear and tear and numbness. "It's
quiet here, Kathryn."

Her eyes are sharp, tones piercing. "Perhaps," A hand winds
around the door frame, and she looks back one last time, for
once sadness edging bright eyes. "The Doctor seems to have
lost all record of your last several physicals in the recent
outage. Stop by when you have time."

You smile again.

---

There was a rumor that the Golden Gate had gone.

You are relieved to see otherwise, face pressed against
shuttle glass like a small boy, eyes drinking in sweeping
curves and sharp lines and jagged breaks. Near one end rails
and girder are broken; you silently motion for Paris to
glide over the area.

"We'll have to turn back soon, you know we aren't supposed
to be doing this and I'm not sure how long the Admiral can
keep the security grid offline..."

You mostly ignore the lecturing tones, a prematurely creased
hand raising for silence. "Can you make a landing without
structural integrity failing completely?"

"It isn't structural integrity the grid is for; it's to keep
out the loonies with ideas of suicide...Chakotay, what the
hell are you up to?"

He was always too smart, Tom Paris. You grunt. "Just pull
over and let me out, Paris. Come along if you like."

He considers, fingers combing through chin stubble. "All
right, have it your way."

The first touch of foot to girder is strange, even through
soft moccasin implacable cold and strength rise up to meet
you. Your pilot puts his craft in park and prepares to step
out the hatch; you lift a hand to halt him midway, weak
fingers curling around bony shoulder.

"I just changed my mind, Paris. You're still too heavy."

He draws back, stiffens, mouth parting as icy eyes flicker
with dormant memory, and then grins, dipping head in
taciturn agreement before turning back.

You scarcely hear the hatch shut again and shuttle hum to
life, the wind is a siren, cacophony of city sound and
nature blending. And then he's gone, and you briefly wonder
what outrageous explanation he'll have in hand for Kathryn,
but then the bay glints and pushes such worries away.

You swam in it once during Academy dare days, when you were
young and arrogant and didn't believe in things called
responsibility and regulation.

Seven crosses your mind again at that, not Seven of loose
hair and burgeoning stomach as you loved her, but Seven of
Borg pride and determination, and the dam bursts, rage and
grief and laughter, above all laughter.

You fall, and let her strength carry you away.

---

The End