Notes: This story is actually entitled: Painted Desert Series: Beautiful as it is story one of a series. All of the stories are to be J/C in nature. Comments, and constructive criticism is encouraged. Begged for actually... I can't improve unless you tell me what I do wrong. Don't worry, I'm not fragile... Oh yeah, pure sap...

This entire series is the fault of one song: "Beautiful in My Eyes" by Joshua Kadison. I blame...er, credit him wholeheartedly! The series doesn't really follow his songs, but they have given me lots of fodder for future stories. Also, the Painted Desert Series has gone interactive! After the box is posted, Elizabeth Janeway will be free for questions, if you have questions about Kathryn or Chak or the family or just whatever, fell free to ask... but expect her to answer in the form of a story. . .

Legal Stuff:  The characters and situations used herein belong to Star Trek and the gang up on Mount Para...in other words, they are not mine... This pursuit is purely for my, and perhaps your enjoyment. Feel free to share with anyone you like as long as no profit is made and the story with disclaimers et al remain intact.

Author's Second Note: This story is told from the perspective of Elizabeth Marie Janeway. I'm told that a hanky alert is in order. . .

*Revised 3/22/98 -Many thanks to Lisa :-)

It had happened quickly. . . .

They'd been camping in Arizona. While most preferred Risa, or TiCan, they preferred the desert, finding time to visit every year. He'd been painting her, she'd said, the day she'd collapsed. Starfleet had arranged the best doctors the galaxy had to offer, but there had been nothing that they could do. The illness that had lain dormant for years had suddenly sprang to vicious life eating at her strength and vitality. Our only consolation was that she would be in no pain for the three months left to her, and that provided she remain in isolation, away from anything that might upset her fragile sytem.

She was a determined woman, my mother. She'd insisted on going home, refusing to shrivel away in some sterile medical suite. No matter how much they pretty it up, it's still a cold, sterile place to die, she'd said. And my father had backed her up all the way.

She had only been home just over a week that day she'd sent for him. I remember bringing in the basket of foodstuffs that had been sent by Old Neelix. The running joke was that leola root was a fountain of youth, as Neelix hadn't aged a day since he'd arrived in the Alpha Quadrant. She'd laughed and insisted that it'd turned Dad's hair from gray to black again. And then her smile had quietly fallen away and she'd looked at me oddly. "Go get your father, dear." I'd nodded mutely, surprised at the abrupt switch in the conversation, but brushing it away as some detail of her will or bit of business that she'd suddenly remembered.

"Dad," I'd said, standing in the doorway of his workshop. "She wants you."

"I know," he'd said softly, gazing off at nothing. Then he'd looked at me. The expression in his eyes will forever haunt me, because at that moment I knew something had changed; some part of my future was to be irretrieviably altered from that which I'd come to expect. It was then that the moisture began to build behind my eyes, and the wrenching in my heart.

I don't exactly remember him moving, but suddenly he was there in the doorway, gently supportive. The reassuring smile that did nothing to hide the pain in his gaze spoke profoundly of the love that had always flowed beneath the surface of our home. It strenthened me; gave me the courage to follow him to their room.

He'd entered hesitantly and knelt near the side of her bed, careful not to disturb the med controls along its edge. Her hand snaked out, almost desperately grasping his. That tiny movement pulled me up short, caused me to pause. What was conspiring here, between these two, was personal, private. I remained at the door.

"Chakotay," she'd smiled up at him. "I need the box." She had spoken the words almost apologetically.

He'd smiled gently down at her in return, nodding. The lines on his face were never so deep as they were when he turned away from her and retrieved a small wooden box from her dressing table. Looking slightly lost, he slid it into her hands. She caressed it a moment before placing one of his hands on top of it, covering it with her own.

"You will give it to them." It was a statement.

"Yes, Kathryn. My love..." his voice broke and his face fell for the briefest moment. "You know I will."

"Thank you," she smiled tremulously at him. It was obvious that more was being said than the words. But they had always been that way; always communicating on some level that most humans missed.

"I've loved you forever, Kathryn. And no matter what happens from this day, I will continue to love you. Forever. Forever my beautiful, beautiful Kathryn."

She'd laughed then, a weak raspy thing. "I look a wreck," she muttered, running a hand over still thick gray locks. "So much for going out in style."

His smile broadened. "You're beautiful," he restated, his eyes never leaving hers. Through his smile tears fell unheeded, dripping down onto his tunic marking the breaking of his heart.

She raised a hand and wiped at them, moving her lips to speak but loosing her voice.

He caught the hand and drew it to his lips, and then to his heart. "So beautiful."

She sighed, a frown marring her brow. "I'm cold, Chakotay. So cold . . . "

"I'm sorry, Kathryn," he broke then, sobbing. "I-I can't...I don't know how..."

"No," she spoke determinedly. "No," more softly. ." She told him. "This isn't good-bye, Chakotay. Never good-bye. My love is yours....forever."

Her voice faded away on the last word, and she closed her eyes.

That was June. A warm spring day in June. Two and a half months later we received a call. Ten weeks, almost to the day. He needed us to come home quickly, and of course we obliged. Either Kolopak or I had taken to visiting at least once a week, as he'd refused to live with either of us, or have one of us with him. But this time he wanted all of us to come, Jason and I and the children and Kolopak.

When we arrived he'd prepared a wonderful dinner. He'd always loved to cook. Seeing him smiling and happy after so much grief was as if the Sun had returned after devastating rains. There was no longer that indescribable sadness in his eyes - today there was peace.

We ate and played games. He even sang a song! He said he'd written it for us, his family. He'd smiled then and kissed each one of us before going up to bed.

He died that night. Peacefully, in his sleep, with a smile on his lips.

...the end.

This story is followed by "The Box"

Beautiful In My Eyes - by Joshua Kadison

You're my peace of mind, in this crazy world. You're everything I've tried to find; your love is a pearl. You're my Mona Lisa, you're my rainbow skies And my only prayer is that you realize, You'll always be beautiful in my eyes.

The world will turn, and the seasons will change. All the lessons we will learn, will be beautiful and strange. We'll have our fill of tears, our share of sighs. My only prayer, is that you realize, You'll always be beautiful in my eyes.

CHORUS: You will always be beautiful in my eyes. And the passing years will show that you will always grow ever more beautiful in my eyes

When there are lines upon my face, from a lifetime of smiles. When the time comes to embrace for one last long while. We can laugh about how time really flies we won't say goodbye cause true love never dies. You'll always be beautiful in my eyes.

CHORUS