A/N Over on VAMB we've been having a little celebration of the 20th Anniversary of Resolutions. The lovely Cheile posted the following Challenge:

"so of course we all know that most beautiful ancient "legend" and what it really means. but given it's metaphorical, there is so much left to interpretation...like exactly when the angry warrior made his personal vow to support his beloved.

so for anyone who's run out of drabbles (or just wishes to try out a longer story), here's my challenge: go back over seasons one and two and choose or create a scenario (or choose more than one if you like) that shows him realizing that she has become his peace. how long it takes or how soon it comes about is totally up to you."

So here's my response.

A huge heap of thanks as always to bevfan for the beta

Chakotay had felt exhausted when he'd retired to his newly assigned quarters, but now he was lying in bed staring at the ceiling and just as awake as he'd been two hours ago when he lay down.

His first day back in the command chair of a Starfleet vessel had taken a lot out of him, so he'd expected to fall asleep the second his head hit the pillow, but there was also a lot on his mind. Normally if he was struggling to relax he would have boxed in order to work out his frustrations, but for some reason today he felt calmer in spite of his whirling thoughts.

Even though he couldn't sleep, and was wound like a tightly coiled spring, for the first time in years he actually felt like he could get a handle on himself; bear to sit with the turmoil in his mind like a quiet observer. As if he was in the eye of the storm.

No, that wasn't it - he wasn't even a part of the storm at all - he was watching it rage from a distance. Perhaps it was distance, from his old life, that was allowing him this rare measure of objectivity.

Having said that here he still was, lying restless in his bed, with these unfamiliar surroundings he could barely make out through the gloom.

Whose bed? It surely wasn't his bed at all, it belonged to some recently dead Starfleet commander whose name he could barely remember - Cavan? Cavit? Yes, Cavit, that was it.

The bed was too comfortable for Chakotay to be able to relax properly. As crazy as that sounded, it was true. He'd become used to an unforgiving metal bunk with the barest of padding to be called a mattress, stacked two by two along the ship's inner hull. Even the captain had to bunk down with the recruits on ship that size. Life in the Maquis made a man accustomed to roughing it, at least if he lasted long enough that was - either in blind luck or in conviction.

So lying here in this too comfortable bed, in this too dark room, listening to this too quiet engine hum he couldn't sleep. He'd had the last bunk pressed up against the wall of engineering on the Val Jean, prime place on a ship with ancient environmental controls that left most of the crew huddling together for warmth with their meagre blankets and too often empty bellies. During the long nights tucked away safely in the shadow of some frontier planet's moon, he'd been glad of the heat produced by inefficient engine technology.

Who was he now, in this new life, on this Starfleet ship he was suddenly a part of with barely a moment to mourn his own? How quickly he had jumped back into line when a brushed-steel captain in that smart uniform had said jump. How easily those past years of fighting for his planet's freedom had faded away. What does that say about you Chakotay? That you would fall back into Starfleet as quickly and as easily as you fell out of it? Maybe on some subconscious level he'd never truly left, just found a crusade, a cause; some method of desperate self-redemption - conceived at the moment of realisation his father had died without ever truly being proud of him.

A hand instinctively rose to his forehead to trace over his tattoo. Was a vow made in such anger, with such assurance so easily forgotten? No. Never forgotten. But what could he do out here? How could he continue to fight for his people when he was seventy thousand light years away from them? He felt like a piece, a very large piece, of his identity had been stripped away, and he should be feeling bereft.

But he wasn't, although he didn't feel the numbness such a huge upheaval could easily bring on either. As much as the bed felt wrong, and the quarters felt wrong, and the vibration of the ship felt wrong, there was a strange rightness about this situation. An odd sense of belonging that he couldn't explain. There were greater powers at work here than the mere coincidence of his ship ending up in that part of The Badlands at that time. Of this 'Voyager' following on their heels into the Delta Quadrant.

Chakotay was reminded of a conversation he'd had with a young Bajoran girl not long after he'd joined the Maquis. He'd been hanging out in a dingy shack of a bar on Tevlik's Moon when she'd walked in all youth and swagger, with that knife-sharp edge many Bajoran women have. So vibrant and full of herself, a quiet part of him mourned for the too early loss of innocence that came with cutting your teeth in a resistance cell.

She'd made a beeline for him - he wasn't sure whether to be flattered or if he had a 'safe' looking face in a shady joint where it was hard to know who to trust. He'd bought her a drink, out of politeness really, but she soon proved to be interesting company. The subject of their respective faiths had come up and they'd spent a very pleasant evening eating, drinking spring wine and talking about the more philosophical things of life. He wondered for a moment what had become of her - he had such a clear recollection of that night despite the fact that he'd never met the girl or been to that bar again - the sounds, the smells and the spicy tang of the hasperat as strong a memory as the image of her face.

"Do you believe that things are supposed to work out a certain way Chakotay? In 'fate' which is I guess what some people might call it?" Her expression was full of challenge, but there was a strong conviction behind the question.

"I don't know. My people's beliefs teach us that we should reach out to our spirit guides and ancestors when we need guidance. I suppose we might consider that if we follow that guidance, things work out how they should. What do you believe?"

"Bajorans believe that the Prophets have a plan for us. That they will make sure everything plays out the way it's supposed to".

Chakotay's beliefs had always been somewhat more nebulous than that, and at the time he'd dismissed the notion, but right now he had a strange sense that she may have had a point. Maybe there was a grand plan for everything. Previously he'd baulked at the suggestion that he had anything less than total control over his own destiny, but in the moment he found the idea oddly comforting. Whatever that meant, Chakotay knew with an inexplicable certainty that he was where he was supposed to be.

This was a feeling that he desperately needed to explore, so he got out of bed and retrieved his medicine bundle from a mostly bare cupboard. It was one of the very few possessions he had been able to save from his former life. Once in the living area, he pushed aside some of Cavit's furniture - it was going to take some time before he could think of it as his own - to prepare a space in which he could sit down.

After spreading out a blanket bearing his tribe's traditional pattern, which had been the first thing he'd replicated from his meagre allowance, and seating himself comfortably on the floor he opened up the bundle. He took the items out with the same slow reverence he always did, but that ritual had now gained a new meaning as he realised how lucky he was still to have these deeply sacred things. It was only the caution of years on the run in constant danger that had led him to routinely carry the bundle secured inside his jerkin - it was too important to risk losing - and he felt a wave of gratitude towards his former self for the foresight. Hand placed on the Akoonah he closed his eyes,

"Akoochimoya, we are far from the places of our ancestors, far from the bones of my people. Further from home than I have ever been, but maybe there is still a spirit here that will bring me the guidance I seek".

After the usual few moments of light-headedness that he'd never quite been able to get used to, Chakotay's vision cleared and he was, as so often when he called upon his ancestor spirits, standing in a clearing in the forest. A familiar and truly safe place; a sanctuary where he came to retreat from the reality of his life and seek counsel from those wiser than himself. Cross-legged on the ground as he had been in his quarters back on Voyager, he rose slowly and looked around himself. The surroundings had familiar elements, but nonetheless always appeared slightly different depending on his mood and the current situation in his life, so it took him a few moments to discern a vague pathway forward through the thick undergrowth that surrounded the clearing. Once he did he headed in that direction.

The bushes and vines had grown together and knotted so it was very difficult to push his way through them. After struggling for some time, he looked around and found a sharp edged stone that he used as a tool to help himself make headway. After several more minutes of sweaty work he emerged from the forest onto the bank of a lake. In the distance around the shore he could see the light of a fire and was just able to make out a seated figure stirring something in a pot that hung over the flames.

As he moved closer he realised that it was his grandfather, who turned and smiled at Chakotay's approach,

"Chakotay, my boy, you haven't been to see me in a long time. And who is this lovely woman you've brought with you?"

Chakotay started and looked over his shoulder at the old man's words, almost expecting that he would actually see someone standing there behind him. But there was no one.

"Grandfather. It's good to see you, but I haven't brought anyone with me". The old man laughed heartily at Chakotay's words.

"You might not be able to see her, but I assure you she's there. She has hair like flame - the visible part of the flame that burns strong and true within her". It was then that Chakotay realised he must be talking about Janeway. But how could his grandfather think she was with him?

"You don't understand do you my contrary grandson, but you will. She's here because there's a bond between you. You now carry her with you wherever you go", he smiled broadly, "I'm very happy for you Chakotay it's about time you settled down".

"No, grandfather it's nothing like that. She's... she's my... captain". The old man looked at him with confusion,

"The last time you were here, you declared you were never going to take orders from anyone again and you seemed pretty determined about it. What's changed?"

"I've rejoined Starfleet." The words sounded odd in Chakotay's own ears. Was that really what he'd done, how he felt? A few hours ago, it had all seemed like nothing more than a necessary business arrangement, but now...

The old man turned his attention abruptly back to the fire, poking at it with a stick, seemingly deep in thought.

"Well then I'm even more happy for you" he said without looking up, "you were the most content I'd ever seen you back then. I thought you'd found your purpose in life."

The old man's words made Chakotay think back, to those old days in Starfleet. Had he been wrong to leave after all?

His grandfather looked up again, intensely into his grandson's eyes, and Chakotay detected a hint of confusion there. The old man reached out a hand to his face, running it down his cheek and causing him to shiver.

"Chakotay tell me what's going on with you? You've somehow found this woman, but your spirit feels... very distant. Further away even than it did when you were first estranged from your father. I'm worried about you. Are you lost?"

"You could say that - I'm a very long way from home. And I'm not sure when I'll get back again - if I'll ever get back. I was fighting to save what little remains of our people and our sacred lands but... I can't help them any more. Not from where I've ended up". The old man regarded him with watery eyes before nodding swiftly a few times."They will prevail or they will fall Chakotay, but I see now that their fate is not your fate, nor is it any longer within your control. You have to let them go. You have to let it all go so that you can give yourself over fully to your new purpose". He used the stick to draw a symbol on the ground, an elongated oval with two lines at either side of it towards one end.

"This is what I see. You have a new calling my boy, the calling that has always been your destiny but that was yet to come - until this day. I see now that this is why you have wandered aimless all these long years - your true purpose was yet to be. But your time now is here - everything you have been through in your life has been leading up to this moment, preparing you for your task. Every hardship, every failure, every ending. You're right where you're supposed to be Chakotay, where you need to be, where you belong. It all makes sense now". He made a 'V' sign in the centre of the oval, "Do you understand?"

"I'd be lying if I said I fully understand what you're telling me, but I believe you're right. In fact I don't just believe it, I feel it. I'm beginning to realise that this is not a simple accident, that there's some... 'greater power' at work here".

His grandfather smiled broadly, and turning towards him, grasped the younger man with a hand on each of his shoulders,

"That's faith Chakotay. And faith... that is a higher power in itself. If you believe in something - truly, deeply believe, you can move unshakeable mountains, you can cross endless oceans, and you can bring the irredeemably lost back to their homeland again. Even if that means yourself. Hold onto that faith Chakotay. Hold onto it as you begin your life's journey".

Chakotay had always been able to see his father in his grandfather's face, and this moment was almost like Kolopak absolving him as well as the old man who sat here before him. Perhaps if he could believe that his whole life had been building up to this moment, he could let some of the things that had haunted him go. If he had faith that everything was supposed to happen this way, maybe he could begin to forgive himself for the things he wished he could change.

"Leave it all behind you - just let your new found faith crash over you like the breaking of a wave and wash it all away. Regret is your enemy Chakotay. You always need to be moving forward not backward. Stride on with purpose - do not linger to glance behind".

As the old man continued his mantra, and Chakotay began to feel himself getting lost in the words, an unknown force gently compelled him, and he stood quietly, turning his own attention to the play of the flames. As he watched the ever changing movement of the fire, a scene began to form before him. Ethereal at first but then suddenly snapping into sharp focus, he was back on Voyager's bridge - the fire welling up in his belly as he saw Paris smugly eyeballing him - and then seemingly out of nowhere, bursting into his life like a supernova, was this explosion of a woman with eyes like azure diamonds burning with a fire to rival his own.

But he also instantly saw that whilst it burnt as passionately and as hot, this was a controlled fire born of loyalty and conviction but tempered by grace. It burned straight through him and quenched his own flame, pushed it down, contained it, concentrated it, until it burned with a brighter but less overwhelming glow, and he knew then it would never again rage like the wildfire it had been. The fire in his core burned now with a pure, clear intensity that was devotion. Devotion to this Starfleet Captain that had tamed him, and filled him with a peace that he had longed for, desperately sought, but never before attained.

As Chakotay's vision faded back to the lake again, his grandfather looked up, eyes piercing into him such that Chakotay felt certain the old man had seen what had just played, ghost like, across his mind.

"She will need guidance Chakotay. It is a great journey that lies before her, before all of you, and she must never waver if she is to succeed in leading her disparate tribe home. You must be the great towering rock to which she clings. You must be strong".

"I want nothing more than to be strong for her grandfather. But I don't know if I can - if I have that strength of purpose in me that I see in her".

"There is nothing holding you back from meeting your destiny other than the lack of self-belief in your own heart. Believe in yourself Chakotay. Believe in yourself and believe in her and together you will prevail".

Chakotay felt his grandfather's words fall and settle on him like gentle snow. He seated himself beside the fire so he could put an arm around the old man, and when he did so, he passed the stick to Chakotay and motioned for him to continue stoking the flames below the pot. Chakotay did as he was bidden.

"That's right my grandson, it's time for you to take up the role of firewatcher. You be sure you tend her well, and vigilantly, and you just see what boils up in that cooking pot". The old man's eyes danced with the light of the flame, and Chakotay held them in his vision as they faded and the grey bulkhead of his quarters replaced the tranquil lakeside scene.

He packed his bundle away again and moved back toward the bedroom, wondering as he did so whether he would have the courage his grandfather seemed sure was within him. Whether he could be the strong, steadfast first officer that Janeway needed. That he needed to become for her, and for himself.

Well, the first thing of all was that no matter his own doubts and inner struggles, he couldn't betray them to her. He had to be an oasis of outward calm if there was to be any hope of them ever reaching home.

The only thing holding you back Chakotay is the doubt in your own mind - control that and you master everything, all of your true potential.

He'd struggled, for his whole life, to really feel comfortable and confident in his own skin. To understand who he was. The lingering sense he'd had for most of the day settled back on him again now - that everything was right, and now he knew that as long as he held strong to his task, with faith in his heart, their story would play out the way it was supposed to.

He climbed under the sheets once more and, with a fiery starship captain's face playing across his mind, this restless warrior fell peacefully asleep.