The BLTS Archive- Revisions
#1: All But Gone
by Ellen Milholland (pretyclose@aol.com)

---

Feedback: Do I even need to tell you? Of course! Anything and
everything (except flames) is lovingly received and quickly responded
to! :)

Notes: This is an answer to a challenge I saw on JuPiter Station. :)
What would've happened if Chakotay had died in the YOH (as shown on
Before and After) and not Janeway. But I took liberties, and I updated
the episode to what we actually saw in YOH. Kes isn't in this story,
Seven is. But Chakotay still dies. Does that make any sense
whatsoever?

---
"I looked into your eyes,
They told me plenty."

      -'Plenty,' Sarah McLachlan
---
DAY 63
---

Oh God, there's a look in her eyes that I've never wanted to see in
anyone. But especially not from this woman. Not in the eyes of my
captain. She tries so hard to stand up straight now, but her eyes
belie the stiffness of her backbone.

It's harder than I can explain to look her in the eye when there's so
much pain there. She's trying so hard to hide it, but she can't hide
much from us now. Those of us who are left learn more about this
broken woman everyday, but there isn't any pity. We're all going
through this together.

She's broken, but she's trying hard to hide it.

But I can see it. . .  everyone can see it in her eyes. Little by little,
she's losing everything, and there's nobody here that can help her.
Loved ones are dying, and her ship is falling apart at the seams, and
oh God, she looks so wounded and so tired. There are new creases in
her once-beautiful visage, and there are dark circles under her eyes.
Her cheeks look sunken, and even her hair refuses to shine.

She really is a beautiful woman. I've tried so hard not too look at
her like that. Harry thinks it's disgusting. . .  But that's because, to
him, she's been a surrogate mother for this unexpected journey. She's
taught him and sheltered him.

Yeah, she's been Harry's mother. She was Chakotay's lover, though she
tried not to let it on. And she was Seven's mentor, Tuvok's best
friend, B'Elanna's calming influence, and my. . .  my forbidden fruit.

That's one way of looking at it, I guess. She was everything to
everyone, you could say. She was trying her hardest to be everything
we needed her to be, trying her hardest to be a captain, and a woman,
and a believer, and a skeptic, and a mother, and a leader. Her little
body can't do all of that now, though, because of death and defeat.

It was almost her death. She was almost the one stolen from us. I
don't know how we would have survived if it had been her and not
Chakotay. Would he have been captain? Would I be taking orders from
him now? Would he constantly have the same look in his eyes that she
has now?

I know that he couldn't break my heart like this.

The attacks had been coming for months, and it felt like one never
ending battle. You learned to fall asleep to the shuddering and the
explosions. You learned to sleep for just a few hours, because the
computer wasn't going to wake you up.

One day, like many others, she and Chakotay sat on the bridge, this
identical, steely look on both of their faces. I was sitting at the
conn, as usual, but there wasn't much for me to do. The warp engines
were down, and impulse was thready. All in all, a normal day. But in
the middle of the morning, a sudden onslaught was let loose on the
ship. It seemed like destruction rained from the sky, and the stars
were weeping.

Fuck, now I'm getting all poetic. But I didn't really say that. I
think Harry did. Or maybe Seven. Seven's got more going on inside that
blonde head than she lets on. Actually, I think some terran poet said
it for the first time, really. But it's apt, isn't it? The stars were
weeping.

We lost a lot of fine officers that day, fifteen in all, including
Chakotay and B'Elanna. God, when they told me B'Elanna died. . .  I 
think a part of me died that day, too. My heart was wrenched from my
chest, and I pretty much lost my own will to live. We lost a lot of
fine officers that day. I was one of them.

She was another. She looks so. . .  sad. There are times when I just want
to pull her into my arms and tell her everything will be okay. But I
know I can't. Oh God, I wish I could.

It's been a long year. We've lovingly dubbed it the Year of Hell,
because damn, Hell couldn't be any worse than this. There are blood
stains on the carpeting, and most of the time, it's barely worth
getting out of bed in the morning, and then you have serious doubts
you'll live to see your bed again. The ship reeks of burnt flesh and
sparking circuitry, and the stars outside don't gleam so bright now.

I think maybe they're still weeping.

And whenever she looks at me with those eyes. . .  I wonder how she
makes it through each day.

Then again, I probably have a similar look in my own eyes. I lost some
damned good friends to this. B'Elanna. . .  oh God, she's the only person
I've ever cried for. And not just those tears that make your eyes
prickle, but real, gut-wrenching sobs that kept me from sleeping or
woke me up in the middle of the night. She haunted my dreams like a
ghost, and for a while, everything reminded me of her.

The captain told me, one day, that she missed B'Elanna, too. And I
looked up at her with what were probably huge, puppy dog eyes, and I
said, "I'm sorry." And she said, "So am I." And she gave me this look
that just melted my heart.

And there was Chakotay. And though we didn't always get along, we'd
found a sort of middle ground, and I'd come to call him my friend. He
was a damned fine officer. Dedicated to a cause that he was
accidentally drawn into, loyal to the end. He was strong, and he
taught me a lot about what it means to be a good man.

Everyday, I'm trying to remember that. Trying to remember that this is
what we need to do. Some days, I just want to give up, to throw my
hands up in defeat and let them do with us what they will. But the
captain's got this. . .  determination. Enough for all of us, I think
sometimes. Enough to keep us going day in and day out.

She keeps herself guarded, though. A shield around her heart, so we
can't see that she's hurting. But we can tell. After all these years,
we know each other more intimately than I'd like to admit sometimes.
And I know that she's hurting, and she knows that I am, and sometimes
I think I see tears in her eyes. But, in her life, there's no time for
tears, no time for regrets, no time to mourn the losses she's
suffered.

I'm afraid she's going to wake up one morning, when this is all over,
and just crumble into little tiny pieces. I'm afraid she's going to
come out of this less of a woman than she went in, and I, less of a
man. I'm worried this'll take from us what means the most, our
mission, our hopes. It's stolen our loved ones, it's made a mockery of
the beauty of her ship. It's tortured us and scorched our souls.

This is assuredly the Year of Hell. It's taken on a life of its own.
There's no love left now, only hate. For the Krenim, always. For what
they've done to us. There are no smiles now, just bitter tears. And
we're losing hope. I don't know if we're going to make it through
this, and I don't think she does either. But she's got that glimmer of
hope, and she's holding onto it for dear life.

And I'm holding onto her. Not physically, of course. But I need her.
She's kept me going. When everything seems so damned bleak, so empty,
I look into her face and see the _need_ she has. She needs to beat her
enemy. She needs to get her crew home. And I want to help her.

Though we've got this hope, it's all but gone, and oh God, I want to
live to see the day when the stars to stop weeping. I want to hear her
laughing in Sandrine's. I want to see her in the morning knowing she
got a good night's sleep.

I want to see her smile again.

---

The End