The BLTS Archive - Convolution Third in the Nemesis series by Suzanne Finn (yatokahc@aol.com) --- Hi all! The following is my epilogue for The Raven. As the header to the file says... it is a continuation of the thread started in The Passions Of The Soul and This Present Darkness. The story isn't complete... will be finished in the next week or two. Stay tuned. - Suz --- Disclaimer: You know the drill... Paramount owns everything except my mind and what little there is up there that escapes out my fingers! Note-Text falling between asterisks (*) indicate thoughts. Feel free to pass this along to anyone else you think may enjoy it... but please keep all the preamble attached! This is an epilogue. Remember... unless otherwise specified, he/him and she/her refer to Chakotay and Kathryn, respectively. --- This epilogue is a sequel to This Present Darkness (the Revulsion epilogue), which is something of a sequel to The Passions Of The Soul (the Nemesis epilogue). This story will be continued next week. I have not yet decided whether I will break from canon or not. I know Christina really wants a THERE story: the woman warrior once again brings peace to the angry warrior... on every level! LOL! Since we are being treated (:P) to a rerun this week, there will be no epilogue to write. I suppose breaking from canon could be arranged... maybe . --- The doors to holodeck one opened, revealing a scene gray and cheerless... overcast with clouds like ashes in the sky. As she stepped across the threshold, the doors sliding shut behind her, chill air hit her face. A bitter wind picked up, howling in rage around her. She shivered involuntarily, her arms instinctively pulling up, hugging herself, a meager attempt to keep the cold at bay. She bit the inside corner of her mouth as she quickly surveyed her surroundings. She was standing at the edge of a shallow valley nestled between two hills, the grass covering the hills brown from the cold descending upon the land. A large patch of brambles blanketed the valley floor, save the far end, where a thick copse of pines stood silent vigil. He was here... somewhere. Her eyes again scanned the landscape, looking for a sign, a clue, as to his whereabouts. She detected nothing. However, he was here... somewhere. She had verified his location with the ship's computer prior to entering. She had been surprised to locate him on the holodeck. Even more surprised to discover that he had not engaged the privacy lock. His mood over the past several days dictated detachment and isolation. A desire easily realized and honored in his quarters, not here. Her trespass was evidence of that. She sighed, as she again scanned the area. Her eyes stopped short just above the tree tops. *Third times a charm.* A faint plume of smoke trailed into the air. He was in the woods. She worked her way along the edge of the valley to the stand of pines. The trees and underbrush were dense, making passage impossible. She glanced from her right to her left, attempting to locate an entrance. None was visible. Slowly, she skirted the perimeter of the thicket. With little effort, she located a thin sliver of a path leading into the stand. She took one step into the copse, and hesitated. She suddenly found herself questioning the wisdom of her decision to seek him out. She weighed the merits of retreat versus proceeding, intruding, pressing. She knew what he wanted. She'd granted his request, without question, without condition. She'd allowed him to address his pain... privately. As both his Captain and his friend, she could do nothing less, could ask nothing more. However, he had not yet overcome... of that, she was certain. From all indications, he'd made little progress, if any. For several days now, she'd watched him erode. His face had become even more drawn. Dark circles had become permanent fixtures beneath dull eyes. And... he'd withdrawn. According to Neelix, he hadn't been eating his meals in the mess hall, but rather the confines of his quarters... where he seemed to have exiled himself during the majority of his off-duty time. His escape... from concerned glances, questions, ruminations. She exhaled heavily. She knew what he wanted. She'd conceded him the distance. And yet... she found herself struggling with the passive role she'd reluctantly agreed to don. It was not within her nature to be still, particularly where this man was concerned. A constant battle. She snorted. Their battlefield had shifted over the time they had been marooned in the Delta Quadrant, but it was still there. It had shifted from the politics of the Alpha Quadrant, to the politics of conviction. Again, they found themselves in opposition, a painstakingly built trust floundering. *Trust.* Despite his profession, it was still an issue for her. Strange. Strange, the ease with which Seven approached her in her time of need. It wasn't an issue of trust for Seven, but rather one of understanding. She lacked understanding of what had been happening, having no experience with waking dreams... visions. Kathryn was an authority figure, as was the Doctor. They were a potential source for the answers she needed. Regardless, reaching out for help had not been difficult. But, with Chakotay... there were many barriers, many walls to be scaled. With Chakotay, it had to do with trust. He understood the intimate nature of his experiences and dreams. To offer them to another was a leap of faith, and exercise in... *Trust.* Floundering. Her gaze lowered to the ground, as she considered her options. Intrude or retreat. Scant seconds later, she exhaled heavily and advanced into the copse. It was time. She had followed the path for approximately ten meters when she came to an open space, a chamber, in the center of the thicket. The space was dimly lit; gray light filtered through the trees that formed the walls... warm light, cast by a small fire burning in a shallow pit dug in the center of the chamber, flickered amidst the gray. Interwoven branches and leaves formed a roof for the chamber, a modicum of protection from the elements. A small opening in the center of the roof, directly above the firepit, allowed smoke from the fire to escape. She did not move for several heartbeats, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dimness... allowing him time to come to terms with her presence. Against her will, a cold breeze rustling through the pine barrier around her pushed her closer to the fire. Her eyes darted around the space as she moved. Dim light and shadow... all that was immediately obvious. Her eyes had yet to completely adjust to the semidarkness. She stopped within a meter of the firepit, held out her hands to warm them, and scanned the room, searching more carefully this time. Within seconds, she located him. He sat vague against the darkness, legs crossed, leaning back against a trunk along the far wall. Motionless. Silent. She couldn't see his eyes, but knew they rested on her. Silence stretched thin between them. He shifted abruptly. "Why are you here?" His voice grated... low... rough, holding an undercurrent of anger. The question didn't need to be asked. He knew why she was here. Her presence alone spoke volumes as to her intent. She turned her head slightly to the side. Her eyes locked on his form, narrowed, attempted to discern his features. She lowered her hands as she stepped to her right, remaining close to the warmth, allowing him distance, allowing her to view him without the distortion of the heat rising off of the fire. "I wanted to see how you were doing." He did not respond. Instead, he pressed forward, rested his elbows on his knees, folded his hands. His face emerged into half-light, his eyes locked on hers. "Chakotay..." She looked away briefly, then turned her furrowed gaze full on him. "I know I agreed to let you address whatever is wrong privately... but..." She straightened, raised her chin slightly. " Your methods don't appear to be working." For an instant, his shadowed eyes flared. Just as quickly they dulled. *Good intentions.* He reminded himself. She was concerned. She had a right to be. He stared at her for a long moment, then leaned back against the trunk, again fading into the shadow. He folded his arms over his chest, rested his head against rough bark, his eyes still on her. "Some things take time." She took another step closer. "Some things take more than time." Yes... some things did. Perhaps this was one of them. He studied the woman standing scant meters before him. Who was she? Captain or Kathryn? She was in uniform. But, the hour was late; she was no longer on duty. Captain or Kathryn? At the moment, he wasn't sure who he needed more. His silence weighed heavy on her. Oppressive. She measured the risk of continuing Risk was not a deterrent. She'd faced far worse. "This... enclosure... is quite unique. What is it?" The corners of his mouth raised into an almost imperceptible smile as he watched her. A rather transparent strategy. He knew it; she knew it. She'd start with something innocuous, then gently maneuver the conversation to her reason for being here. He debated exposing her tactic, but found himself unable, unwilling, to do so. If her next question followed logically from his response, no maneuvering would be necessary. He had neither the energy nor the patience for games. "It's a sanctuary, a refuge for purification. It's quite old... sacred." Matter-of-fact. She didn't disappoint him. "Purification?" "Cleansing of the body, mind, and spirit." "Is that your purpose for being here?" She winced inwardly. *Damn.* She did not like what she was doing. It was an invasion of his privacy. But her helplessness and his stubbornness were intolerable. He exhaled heavily, his eyes falling to his boots. He was too exhausted to continue clenching anger at her intrusion. He was too exhausted to entertain the thought of fighting her. At the same time, he was unsure as to whether or not he was prepared to discuss this with her. If he allowed the conversation to continue, it would become difficult to retreat. His gaze lifted... rested on her. He had invested so much hope in her. He had invested so much faith in her. He had invested so much. "Yes." His tone conveyed a shrug. "I assume it hasn't produced the desired result?" Long moments passed. He did not respond. His silence was acknowledgment enough. She shivered slightly as another breeze found it's way through the outer walls. "Why don't you come closer to the fire?" "I think better in the dark." She nodded. Slowly, she moved to his left. "May I?" she said, indicating the spot next to him. At his nod, she lowered herself to the ground, sat next to him, facing the fire. She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around her legs, hugged them to her. She turned her head slightly and studied him out of the corner of her eyes. His eyes were lifted, his gaze clinging to the fire in the center of the chamber. "I want to help you." His gaze lowered to the ground, blank, unseeing. "Chakotay..." "There's nothing you can do." "Perhaps there is no advice I can give or action I can take. But..." She shifted her position so that she was facing him, legs crossed. "I can listen. Sometimes it helps just to talk about it." Slowly his eyes lifted. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. He did not want to respond. He had spent too much time in the isolation of his pain; her desire to understand him only aggravated it. He could not bear to be so exposed. Yet, he could not refuse her. Something in him could no longer refuse her. *Another exercise in trust.* Trust... easily destroyed, difficult to rebuild. He knew reconstruction of what they once had would be slow and painful. He knew reconstruction meant giving of the deepest, most intimate parts, of himself... good and bad. He could offer nothing less. "Alright." he murmured. Relief flooded her. But, she remained silent, waiting. Brown met blue. He sighed, then moistened his lips. "I don't know what to tell you." He snorted quietly, as his eyes sank to the ground between them. "I don't know how to describe to you what is happening to me... within me." His uncertain gaze again lifted to hers. Her eyes held him secure... unwavering... resolute. "Is this rooted in your experiences with the Kradin and the Vori? All that resurfaced as a result?" He nodded once. "It's an old story, Kathryn. I suppose the only thing that makes it new is the guise under which it was presented this time. Either way... it feels the same." His gaze drifted to the fire, grew distant. He was silent for long moments. "Hatred erodes the spirit, the self. It gnaws away at you. It infests your life and your dreams. It cripples you morally, emotionally..." His voice trailed off as a mist of violence dimmed his vision. Horrific images from his life and dreams assaulted him, images of the man he had been and had again become. His past had reasserted its hold on him... breathed new life. He lowered his head, exhaled heavily. "It is difficult..." She watched the struggle behind his eyes. He was a gentle man, despite his hellish past. The virulence tormenting him consumed him, wilted his spirit, corrupted his soul. As inaction was not in her nature, this was not in his. He was a gentle man. He had hated before, of that there was little doubt. But... he had let it go. The Kradin/Vori conflict had reanimated old ghosts, but something else fueled it... gave it power. Something hounded him. His dreams. She understood the power of nightmares... had experienced the terror of darkness many times throughout her life. She understood the hold they had on reality. She understood the hold reality had on them. Circular. Vicious. "What do your dreams hold?" His eyes narrowed as he faced her. "Convolution." Confusion met her brow. "They are distorted abominations." His voice held an edge of loathing and frustration. "They are filled with atrocities. Cardassian, Kradin, and..." He stopped, unsure if mention of the Borg was wise. The Borg... a bone of contention. "Cardassian and Kradin... intertwined, merged, convoluted." He sighed... turned back to the fire. "Disturbing dreams are not new to me. I spent the initial months after I'd joined the Maquis fighting them. I believed in the cause behind the Maquis resistance. It gave me reason... motivation... purpose. That, combined with the murder of my father, was justification enough to enter into the conflict. But they weren't enough to prepare me for what awaited. Once I'd been inducted... reason and rationalization were a luxury I couldn't afford. Thought was reserved for strategy. I survived on instinct and raw emotion. But in my sleep, I couldn't escape the act of war. I dreamed of death and devastation. I dreamed of killing... murdering. Faces. Blood. Brutality. Horrific images plagued me. But eventually, I... I grew numb. Perhaps the dreams were still there, but I was too exhausted, too consumed with surviving from one day to the next, to notice. My life had become me. I had become crippled... blind." He shifted, pulled his knees to his chest, hugged them fiercely. He lowered his head, pressed his chin against his left knee. After several long moments, he slid his chin up to rest upon his knee. "The dreams I have now are very different." "How?" He turned his head slightly, met her gaze. "These dreams..." He bit his lower lip. His brow furrowed. "They involve two distinct events... and two only. The death of my father... and assimilation." "What?" she gasped in surprise. He lifted his chin, and leaned back against the trunk behind him. He stretched his legs out before him as he ran a hand over his face. Weariness washed over him. "The circumstances surrounding the two events always changes, but the result is always the same. My father is killed and I am assimilated. In both circumstances, I am helpless to affect the outcome." With an effort, he forced himself to look at her. "I don't know how, Kathryn... but..." He swallowed hard. "I believe that somewhere inside my mind are the latent memories of the Borg. Somehow, they have gained voice in my dreams." He snorted, leaned his head back. "I don't know if they are the memories of the Cooperative or the Collective. I'm not sure it really matters. I don't know why they are suddenly asserting themselves. Regardless, they are a part of my dreams; dreams that leave me feeling angry... hateful... helpless." She lowered her gaze, tried to digest all that he had said. There were no immediate explanations... no obvious answers. In time. She sighed, as her gaze lifted. She studied him quietly. His exhaustion was evident. The cumulative result of his burden, and disclosure of it. "You look tired." He smiled, as he closed his eyes. "That's an understatement." Silently, she shifted, mimicked his position against the tree just to his left. "If I stayed with you, do you think you might be able to sleep." His eyes opened, sought hers. "I don't know." She patted her lap. "The human touch is capable of wondrous things." His eyes narrowed, his brow creased with astonishment, with gratitude. She smiled gently. He lowered himself to the ground, reclining on his side, his left cheek pressing against her warm thighs. As he closed his eyes, he was enveloped by a low, soothing sound. She was humming... softly... gently. With his head resting on the pillow of her thighs and her voice folding him in comfort, he faded into sleep. --- The End