Sands fall and tumble 
Warm 'neath my feet 
Suns shine unceasing 
Steady heart beats 
Lungs breathe so deeply 
Bountiful I've reaped 
Love is everything 
Found is what I seek 
                         -- Words My Father Told Me, Chakotay's Songs. 
 

"How am I supposed to do this if you keep moving?" 

Kathryn looked up from the sleeve she'd readjusted, carefully arching a brow. "I have a better question. *Why* are you doing this? I'm the painter, remember? You do that," she waved an arm, "Other stuff." 

"It's called *wood working*, Kathryn," Chakotay said, allowing his gaze to follow the path her hair took over a shoulder. He deftly added another touch of color to the canvas. "I think you're just jealous." 

"That's ridiculous," Kathryn said. "Why would I be jealous?" 

"Like you said. Painting is your thing. You've painted me, the kids, the dog, the house... But is there one picture of you? No. So, if I want a painting of you, I'm just going to have to do it myself." 

"But Chakotay, you've never painted." 

Chakotay shrugged. "Sure I have... lots if you count the sand. How different can it be? There you go moving again. If you would've let me paint you au natural you wouldn't have had to worry about those sleeves." 

Kathryn laughed, allowing her head to fall back. "You're crazy, you know that? Who else but you would suggest an old woman pose naked in the middle of the desert?" 

"Oh, but you love me, anyway." Chakotay grinned mischievously, the laugh lines about his eyes, merging with his dimples. Kathryn's expression softened. She loved the way they did that. 

"It's a sickness with me," she said. "It's all your fault." 

"Guilty." Chakotay said. "Now be still. Just a few more minutes and I'll be done." 

"Good," Kathryn said. "It's starting to get warm." 

"Yeah, a little" Chakotay agreed, shading his eyes into the sun. "I think our atmospheric barrier is starting to wear off." 

"We could have done this on a holodeck, you know." 

"Yeah. But that would have been too programmed, too easy to tell the sun where to be." Chakotay stood back away from his painting and looked from it to her. In the end he turned toward her. "You're beautiful." 

"The heat is getting to you." Kathryn laughed, dismissing his comments. Inwardly though she cherished them, and he knew it. Wiping an arm over her brow, she fought to avoid grimacing at the stab of pain. The analgesic injections were becoming increasingly less effective she realized. She been taking progressively more of the drug over the past couple months. 

"Is it time to eat yet?" she asked softly. 

"Yes it is," Chakotay said. "*And* the painting is finished. Want a look?" 

Kathryn was very curious. They'd been camping for three days and in all that time he hadn't allowed her even a glance, despite her attempts to talk him in to it. She sat stiffly up from the soft cushions and approached him, releasing a small sound as her bones rebelled. She was definitely getting old. 

Chakotay watched her cross to him with the beginnings of a frown. She smiled quickly to alleviate his worries. He stepped slightly aside to allow her the benefit of standing directly before the easel. 

Kathryn smile at him before turning toward the painting. She was all prepared to have to say something that wouldn't hurt his feelings. Instead she found herself gaping. He'd drawn her looking wistfully out over the desert. The flowing garments she wore ruffled on a gentle, unseen breeze, fluttering against her cheek and across a shoulder. His brush strokes were confident, and had a passionate flourish. Kathryn felt a lump forming in her throat. 

"Oh Chakotay, it's beautiful," Kathryn whispered. "I had no idea..." 

"I think I'll title it, Lady Jane," he said, softly. "For the beautiful woman she's meant to portray." 

Kathryn was deeply touched and told him so. Chakotay smiled, then kissed her nose and told her to go have a rest while he got lunch from the shuttle. 

Kathryn nodded, but remained to stare at the painting a few minutes longer. As she stood there, the heat seemed to have turned to a chill. She rubbed her hands along her arms and moved back toward the blanket and pillows. Perhaps it was time to check in with their doctor. She'd thought she was just tired and achey, but it had been going on for too long. And the amount of analgesic she was having to take was beginning to worry her. 

Settling unto the cushions, she gazed out over the desert sands, focusing her mind on something other than her discomfort. The sounds of Chakotay's lunch preparations echoing out of the shuttle brought a smile to her lips. He had chosen the area because of the many flowing dunes against the backdrop of the Painted Mountains. Their shaded sides shimmered in the day's heat, causing them to look like giant mirages rising out of the desert floor. 
 
Of course, she and Chakotay were protected by their atmospheric barrier -- well, most of the time anyway. She was hot again. Reaching a hand under one of the pillows in search of the device, she was surprised to find that the temperature was only 2 degrees higher than they'd programmed. 

She gazed around her, looking for a visual indication that might tell her if the display were incorrect. She was beginning to feel lightheaded. Wiping again at her brow, she looked toward the shuttle. It's contours were beginning to blur, and the sound of Chakotay's movements were growing fainter. What was taking him so long? 

Pushing herself onto shaky legs, she tried to move toward the shuttle. Her legs did not want to propel her forward. She tried to call Chakotay's name but couldn't get the words passed her lips. A feeling she could only describe as fear entered her heart. 

Chakotay must have realized that something was wrong because she heard the distant clatter of falling dishes and then he was running down the ramp. She saw that his lips were moving, but she couldn't make out the words. 

Rushing blackness obscured everything else. 
 

~~Sands shift endless 
Harsh beneath my feet 
Suns blind bitter 
Barren is the beat 
Lungs breathe empty 
Desperately I seek 
Love fears living 
Pale and incomplete 

                      -- Words My Father Told Me, Chakotay's Songs~~ 
 
 

Chakotay sat with his face buried in his hands as he waited for the doctor to examine Kathryn. She'd been fine that morning, all weekend actually. He hoped that it was something simply treated, but a gnawing feeling told him that this would not be the case. 

He glanced toward the wall chronometer. Over an hour had passed since he had arrived at the medical facility with her limp body in his arms. Being retired Starfleet had its priviledge. They received priority medical transport priviledge from anywhere on Earth. In an instant after he'd activated their badges, they'd arrived at the nearest medical facility. Seconds later she'd been in the hands of trained medical specialists. 

The opening of a sliding door caught his attention. As he looked up, half fearfully, into the doctor's sympathetic eyes, he knew that the next words out of the man's mouth were going to break his heart. 

"Ambassador Chakotay. We should talk in my office." 

Chakotay sat frozen in his chair. "Is she...?" 

"No." The doctor shook his head. "But we need to talk." 

Chakotay nodded, pushing himself to a standing position. Placing one foot in front of the other as he followed the doctor to his office was one of the hardest things he'd had to do in a long time. The next hardest was listening as the doctor spoke, hearing the words and the utter lack of hope. They would do everything they could to make her comfortable. The Federation would bring its resources together. A team would be formed. Chakotay saw through it all. The results were in. Three months and her fate was sealed. 

Numb was all that was left to him as he sat a solitary vigil at her bedside. She looked so beautiful, so peaceful, as she lay sleeping. The medications would be wearing off soon. When she awakened, he would be the one to tell her.