Disclaimer:
Voyager and her crew belong to Paramount. What I choose to do with them is my
own. This story contains thoughts of m/m love/relationship and is there for PG.
Warning: This story contains the deaths of major characters.
Author's
Note: This story was a response to the 500 word challange(write a story 500 or
less words) and comes in at 357 words.
Chakotay lay in sick bay staring blankly at the
ceiling. Kathryn Janeway stood in the Doctor's office watching him worriedly. "Is
he any better?" She asked.
"Physically yes." The Doctor said. "But
he still seems to be in shock. Though he has been doing a bit better since Lt.
Torres force him to start talking again."
"Yes I noticed that."
"He also seems to resent missing Lt.
Paris's funeral."
"I know that too, I held off as long as
I could but we needed to move on with our lives and we weren't even sure he'd
come out of his coma then."
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Chakotay was immensely relieved when he was
finally released from sick bay. With strict orders to stay in his quarters
resting for at least another week. He didn't think he'd be there for a week but
those were the doctors orders.
He sat on his bed thinking. How could he have
gone so long without telling Tom how he felt. He'd loved the golden pilot. And
now he regretted never telling the man. Tom's final message to him it had started
telling him how much the pilot respected him, and what an honor it had been to
serve with him, and then...
"I doubt you really want to hear this
Chakotay. But I love you. I have since the day joined the Maquis."
It had nearly driven him mad. If only he'd
said something. They could have been together, everything could have been
different, Tom could even still be alive.
But now it was too late. Tom was dead. There
was only one why they could be together now.
With that thought Chakotay raised the glass
in his hand and studied the deep blue liquid. Just about the color of Tom's
eyes his mind told him. After a moment he swallowed the nectar, and lay back on
the bed.
As he watched the room blurred around him,
the darkened fading to gray. A peaceful smile came to his lips as he heard and
felt his heart slow. The gray darkened further to blackness, the sound of his
heart slowed then was silent.
Then nothing.
Dear readers... this story contains a highly romanticized suicide. But suicide is not in any way romantic. It's a terrible terrible thing. Please remember that while you don't see it in this story every suicide leaves behide people to grieve. If you are in any way thinking that suicide might be an option for you... please please talk to someone. Let them know what you're feeling. You may feel that no one will miss you. But please believe me when i say that there will be many people who will. People you might not even relize care, but they do. I'm speaking from experience here. I lost an old friend... several years ago now. I hadn't seen her more then once in a few years as i was away at school. I'm still grieving to some extent. Please don't put any of your friends or family through this heartbreaking pain.