The night fell like velvet around her, air hanging crisply in her lungs. Patches of fog snagged on her ankles, followed her for a few steps, lost interest and let the next group take over. Her path was clear, though cloaked in shadows, and she found her way easily. She did not walk at her usual clip, but slowly, with her arms folded to her chest and shoulders aching. She felt the throb like an afterthought.

The sky was clear, an unbroken midnight color someplace between blue and black; the lack of stars quieted her. The bzzibee chorus of insects crescendoed, a wild pulse so close to the thrum of her engines that it made her ache for home.

She thought of Harry, and Sam Wildman, and Nicoletti and Anderson and all the others who'd fought, lost sleep, and pined after home, and hoped they were happy. But the thought was not bitter as she'd expected it to be.

Even though it had never been hers, she hoped this place was still their home.

The pavement dropped away to grass; her boots stopped clicking and began a slow swish-swishing through the blades, and she could smell the scent of crushed dew. It wasn't a scent one usually noticed, unless you'd lived on a starship half your life and the only place you saw trees and grass was on the holodeck, or sometimes a planet, but she usually wound up in caves those times. So crushed dew was something she treasured.

Even though she'd never been there before, she found it somehow, and not with any difficulty. It was simple, on the edge farthest from the city. Of that she was glad, because she knew he would've wanted to be close to nature and his heritage, even if he'd struggled to accept it growing up. She stood looking down at it and almost smiled, thinking about much they were alike. And yet how different. He'd always been so calm and gentle. Even when he'd found out about Seska, he hadn't lost it. Just beat himself up for a good three months before she threatened to finish him.

The only time she'd seen him break was when Tom commed them with the news about Seven.

Moonlight streamed onto the gravestone. She stood clutching herself, staring down at those words and numbers—Chakotay, 2329-2394—and was angry. So angry she couldn't breathe.

Why? Why had he left her? Why had he given up just when they'd gotten home, just when she'd needed him most? He was her one tie to this life, this quadrant, and he'd died. Why? What had she done? How had she failed him? Wasn't she enough for him?

She was on her knees now, fists pounding the earth as she hurled her rage at the sky, demanding, wanting, needing to know why. The tears streamed off her nose and cheeks, darting between her lips to salt her tongue. Frantic, as if she'd shut them off at any moment.

Broken, bleeding pain all over the crushed-dew grass, she clutched her middle and let the sobs wrack her. Mama, Daddy, Chakotay, Harry, Miral, Tom, Daddy, Daddy—

She wasn't enough for them, would never been enough for them. She was nothing, nothing. Nothing.

"Chakotay, Chakotay I'm sorry! I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry. Why, why did you leave me? Please just tell me, please come back, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

And then he was there, touching her, pressing his cheek into her hair like he always did, cradling her against him and rocking her as she sobbed.

"B'Elanna. B'Elanna," he breathed, and gathered her closer, so close she felt his heart beating against hers. And suddenly she knew he was crying too, hurting just as much as she was, but not because of the body in the grave beneath them. Oh Tom. Tom. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." It was all she could manage, but she knew it was enough, because he was still there, still holding her, still whispering her name, and she could feel his heart.

And that was enough to make her let go.

He held her while she shook, dew soaking into his pajama pants and insects buzzing in the grass around them, and fell in love with her all over again. I'm sorry, she'd said. I'm sorry. He knew how much that took. And he loved her.

Tom eased back on his heels and B'Elanna moved into him, still crying, but more quietly now, and he knew it would be over soon. He looked down at the gravestone, at B'Elanna's hand splayed across it. At the light, glinting off her wedding ring, then up at the moon.

And he knew.

They were going to be okay.

Finis