Old and Absent Friends

By Ammo

November 2000

 

Disclaimer:- Paramount is God, but should they feel it okay to leave Chakotay in my Christmas stocking this year I will be very grateful. 

 

Rating:- PG13

 

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Auld Lang Syne

 

Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind

Should auld acquaintance be forgot and days of auld lang syne

For auld lang syne my dear, for auld lang syne

We’ll take a glass of kindness cheer, for auld lang syne

 

*-*-*

 

Kathryn Janeway stood silently on the balcony, oblivious to the party going on behind her.  As on most December nights, the air was cold yet crisp, the breeze refreshing in an icy way.  In her hand she gripped a glass of champagne, though the usual festive celebrations were far from her mind.  Gazing up at the clear black sky, she fixed her eyes on a faint star, twinkling far in the distance.

 

She did this every year, as a reminder of what was and what could have been.  It was her way of not forgetting, not that she could.  No she could never forget that Christmas and what happened.

 

Closing her eyes, she allowed her mind to go back.  She could almost hear the laughter of the party around them, smell Tom’s home-made eggnog on the table near by.  That year they had gone for a more homely feel; Christmas Eve in front of a roaring fire.  The holodeck program was beautiful, complete with a seven foot fir tree in one corner.  Right at the top, Tom had even programmed in an angel that should you look closely enough, you would be able to see that it was based on the Captain’s image.

 

Everything had seemed perfect and for the time it had been.

 

Chakotay had been as gorgeous as ever, festively dressed in a dark green turtleneck and black trousers.  His smile, set on non stop dimples, was infectious and she had found herself relaxing as she drank one glass after another of real champagne.

 

It was nights like this that she could barely imagine what life had been like before she had met him.  Had she really had a life before him?  Laughing, they had watched their crew play the usual silly party games like ‘pin-the-ears-on-the-Vulcan’ and ‘guess your secret Santa’, before being caught under the mistletoe.  Smiling slightly, she had kissed him gently, lasting only a few seconds as their newly found relationship was still so young and fragile.

 

How as she to know that three hours later he would be dead?

 

She had just issued a toast ‘to old and absent friends’, when the red alert alarms activated.  Abandoning drinks, the senior officers retook their familiar positions on the Bridge, surprised, as they believed themselves to be in a relatively safe part of space.

 

It had all been a misunderstanding, that was the worst part.  It had all been a bloody misunderstanding.  The ship had attacked without warning, reducing Voyager’s shields and defences in a matter of minutes.  Needed in sickbay, she had ordered Tom to go, nodding to Chakotay to take the helm.  Less then a minute later, an explosion echoed around the Bridge, the helm exploding fiercely.  Chakotay was thrown heavily from his seat, landing awkwardly, his head striking the cold floor with as sickening crunch.

 

Thirty seconds after that, the other ship was in retreat, but the damage had already been done.

 

Chakotay was barely conscious when she reached him, gently bending down to take his head in her lap.  With no transporters, there was nothing that could be done, but for her to slowly watch the life drain from her friend as one haemorrhage formed in his brain, then another.  Blood coated her hands, a tear sliding down her cheek, but neither of them were noticed

 

“I love you Chakotay…”

 

Her last words to him.

 

“I know…”  The slight smile was sad, his grip slipping.  “Remember… I love you…”

 

Then he was gone, and she was alone, again.

 

*-*-*-

 

Tom Paris stood silently observing the single tear that trickled unnoticed down the Admiral’s face.  It had been nearly fifteen years since that attack and every year she did the same thing.  It was almost a ritual, her ritual.

 

Even now, all these years later, he still felt guilt over what had happened.  He should have been at the helm that night.  He should have been the one who died.  Sometimes he would catch the Admiral watching him, a penitent expression on her face.  He knew that she did not blame him, or even wish that it was him, but yet that did not make him feel too much better.

 

Moving up behind her, he gently rested a hand on her shoulder.  Eyes opening, she turned to face him, a slight, yet sad smile lining her features.  He said nothing, but then he did not have to.

 

Holding up her glass, she whispered the same toast she said every year, “to old and absent friends”, before turning away, a single shooting star the only answer.

 

*-*-*

 

THE END