Disclaimer: Paramount owns almost all character written about in this story. I am just taking them for an a little while.

Dedicated: To CatHeights (Robin) who's done a wonderful beta on this one, and the crazy bunch at ATPS, to Elisabeth Kuijl and at last but not least to all those who reads this.

Feedback is welcomed at succubus@get2net.dk

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A Gift For a Soul Mate

Damn, damn and double damn.

It's Chakotay's birthday tomorrow and I don't know what to get him.

Besides that, it is also our six-month anniversary. What do you give a lover and soul mate after six months of companionship?

I thought about giving him something I made. He always says that gifts are personal and come from the heart, but the only thing I can give him is my body. It's the only thing I have of value, besides my flying capabilities.

Chakotay got mad at me, or I was just the one who took the fall for his anger, when I told him back in the beginning of our joining that the only thing I could offer him was my body. He got this strange look and for a short moment, I thought he was going to shout at me or even hit me.

Instead, he carefully sat me down on the couch and told me never to say such a thing. That I was valuable, and not because of my body, but because of who I was, the man. Loving and caring. He actually said that, and even now I don't believe it. My father, Peter Farble, the men in prison and at least a hundred of others, told me I was a failure, a coward, who should never have stepped foot inside this universe.

Despite what people have heard, no man ever raped me in Auckland. My father made sure of that. He didn't mind the beatings or the harsh words. But rape, nothing like that ever happened. He didn't like the idea that a male offspring of his could be someone's 'woman' or prison toy. He told me that after a guy had beaten me up and had attempted to rape me. Told me that he had made sure that no one would ever do that to someone carrying the Paris name. At the same time, he also told me that being beaten would give me courage and strength. Courage, my ass. The only thing it gave me was a fear of small confined places. The prisoners always dragged me into a small storage compartment or a toilet, and then they locked the doors, leaving me unable to escape and unable to evade the fists and boots.

Maybe I could make him a painting. As a kid I always loved painting. Drawings of people were my favorite. The way you can capture someone's emotions and express them in the eyes always fascinated me. I spent hours as a child, mimicking Admirals, parents and children, learning how to hide my feelings. Maybe painting isn't a good idea. After all, who should I paint? Me. Definitely no.

Harry could have helped me with this--only he isn't here anymore. Every time Ensign Brooks at Ops talks, I imagine that it is him. I know that I should stop doing this, but I miss him and I still feel guilty.

Chakotay found out that I thought I should have died instead of Harry, and told me not to think like that. He said if I had died, both he and Harry would have missed me, missed having me around to talk to and to laugh with. That made me cry, because he just said that it could have been me instead of Harry, not that it should have been me.

I stopped talking to Chakotay about it, and he thinks that I no longer believe that I should have died instead, but I do. Harry had a family, a girlfriend, and friends both on Voyager and on Earth. What do I have? All I have is on Voyager.

If it isn't enough that I feel guilty about Harry dying instead of me, I also feel guilty about being happy. Happy, because I'm with Chakotay.

Happy because I'm still alive and Harry's not. I know Chakotay misses him too. He became good friends with Harry, and sometimes when we enter Sandrine's, I can see him searching the crowd, looking for Harry, just as I do.

I actually think I have an idea as to what I should give Chakotay.

I only hope he likes it.

Go on to the next part