Chapter Text
And as debriefings continued on, they both had to face more than their share of demons. Sometimes they talked about it, as their footsteps echoed on the empty streets. Sometimes one of them spoke while the other listened.
There was the night after Kathryn had to explain the Equinox, and she took the path to the harbor in ground-eating strides, her hands waving angrily as she berated her own choices, her own failures. Chakotay listened quietly, his hand warm on the small of her back, without judgement or condemnation, and they both realized there was so much they had failed to communicate to each other.
And the night when Chaktoay had to explain the planet where he had been brainwashed, believed he was fighting in a war against an enemy he didn't know. HIs steps were slow that evening, measured, as he recalled his days in the Maquis, how it had brought back memories of a side of him he no longer wanted to remember. She kept her shoulder against his, listening intently, realizing there was so much more to this man that she thought she knew.
The day the committee reviewed Joe Carey’s death was the same for both of them, and Kathryn saw it etched in every pained line of his face when she met him under a cloudy, desolate, sky. All the losses had been hard, but that one had been nearly unbearable for the two of them. That night he had taken her hand in his, and at first she had nearly drawn away, startled by the intimacy of the gesture. But he had held fast, his eyes finding hers, filled with vulnerability, and she had taken hold of him in return.
Eventually, after a few weeks, he seemed nervous, something she hadn’t seen since they had taken those first steps together. She didn't ask him at first, just let the feeling sit as they chatted about their days and the upcoming Christmas holiday, for which they were hoping they would be released to go home. Kathryn was eager to see her mother in Indiana, but Chakotay seemed less forthcoming with his plans.
Perhaps, she realized, he was hesitant to tell her he was spending the holiday with Seven. Because despite all they had talked about, it was a topic she never broached.
They walked until they came to the harbor, where they could see the shadowed outline of the waves just past the lights from the city. The breeze was steady and cool, but smelled of salt and the sea, and the impending freedom that was nearly within their grasp.
“Today was my last day,” he said suddenly, his eyes on the water, his shoulder pressed against hers. “They offered me a commission in addition to my full pardon. I have a week to think it over.”
Kathryn spun to face him, delight filling her face. It was everything she had wanted for him, everything he deserved.
“That’s….wonderful, Chakotay.” she told him, her voice filled with pride. He was a great man and a great officer, and she thanked the stars that Starfleet was astute enough to realize it. “What will you do?”
He rocked back on his heels, seemining pensive, “I’m not sure. When I picture my life, I don’t think I see the stars.”
“What do you see?” she asked, studying him.
He paused, something shifting in the air around them, “A home, a family. Dirt under my feet again.” He leaned against her slightly, nudging her shoulder with his, “What about you?”
The image was visceral, filling her senses as she stood beside him with the waves crashing and the wind whipping up a storm of feeling.
A garden. A dog. An old farmhouse outside of the city with grey shutters. A man smiling at her from the porch, with a dark tattoo on his forehead.
Stop it. Closing her eyes, struggled to see something besides warm brown eyes and strong arms waiting to pull her close. “I think I'll get a dog,” she blurted out.
Chakotay turned his head in surprise, eyebrows arching toward his hairline, then chuckled. “Quite the complex plan you have there.”
“I guess it's what I know for certain, one of the things I've missed the most. I’ll get a dog…and the rest will fall into place.” Kathryn shrugged and smiled at him, wistfulness tugging at her heart.
His arm came around her in a now familiar motion, her head settling against his shoulder. She closed her eyes as she leaned against him, trying to soak in the moment, etching it in the corner of her heart.
He would leave tomorrow. It would be Christmas Eve, after all. Certainly he wanted to be with Seven, or his family.
“Do you remember our first Christmas on Voyager?” he asked quietly, his fingertips stroking lightly over her shoulder.
Kathryn hummed in response, scrunching her nose as she tried to remember, “Somewhat…that was a difficult time. We were low on fuel, on food, on basically everything.”
He’d come to her quarters that night, a cup of leola root caffeinated beverage, as Neelix had dubbed it, since there were no replicator rations to spare. They’d both been exhausted, filthy from climbing through jeffries tubes and piecing the ship back together after an attack from the Viidians.
“I thought we could have a little celebration.”
“That we’re still alive?” she had asked wryly, but reached to take the mug from him nonetheless.
“No, because it's Christmas. The crew is down in the mess hall. There’s not much, but Neelix managed to put together quite the buffet. Leola punch, leola stew, even leola log…though I wouldn’t touch that one.” He grinned, a day's worth of stubble dotting his cheeks, the knuckles that held his own mug scraped from the day’s labor.
“So it is. Please, Chakotay, sit.” She gestured to the couch, putting down the PADD she had been holding as she reviewed the repair reports. She knew she looked terrible, dirty and weary, but the offer of company and a barely tolerable warm beverage was enough for her to overcome any self consciousness.
“I got you something. For Christmas.” He said, a mischievous twinkle entering his brown eyes as he settled in on the couch, long legs stretched out in front of him. Kathryn choked slightly on her drink.
“You shouldn't have done that! We’ve no rations…”
“I made it, no rations required. Here.” He pulled a small rectangular box from his pocket and handed it to her, a relaxed happiness written on his face.
Kathryn opened it slowly, and tucked inside was a scrap of medal tied with a simple string. She pulled it out, laying the gift in her palm.
“It's a star. It's not part of my culture, but I know the Christmas story. The star guides the way home. I made it from some hull scraps.” Chakotay leaned back, smiling at her as his arm rested on the back of the couch. “We’re going to make it home, Kathryn. Someday, you can hang it on your tree, and remember how you got there.”
She had been speechless, overcome by the thoughtfulness of the gift and the unwavering faith of the man beside her.
They had talked late into the night, laughing and remembering their own traditions and holidays back home. It was the first time she felt truly at ease, truly herself, on the journey. And when he left in the early hours of the morning, she knew that this was a man she could care deeply for.
The memory brought a sweet throb to her chest at who they were then. The shy beginnings of a friendship, a trust that they built over years of fights and conversations and tears and losses and victories. And now, they had found their way home.
She was so lost in the memory, it startled her when he spoke, “I always knew we’d make it back for another Christmas here on Earth. I never doubted you.”
The throb twisted tighter, and she held back an unexpected rush of tears, “We should get back. It's getting late…or early.” She smiled and nudged him, blinking a little too rapidly.
They were quiet on the walk back, and Kathryn felt the sadness seep through her at losing this precious time with him. She hadn’t even realized how healing, how steadying, these walks and the conversation that came with them had been to her. The idea of missing it left her feeling bereft, as if the anchor that tethered her was suddenly disappearing.
Another moment flashed back to her, filled with the same thoughts. Thoughts of how much his just being there in her life, everyday, made it worth living.
Her hand resting on his chest, eyes damp with tears, as she told him she couldn’t imagine a day without him.
Because she loved him.
She loved him then.
And she loved him now.
Oh God.
She stumbled, his arm reaching quickly to steady her as a concerned look crossed his face. “You alright?”
How the hell was she supposed to answer that? All this time, she had thought they were reforging a friendship, healing old wounds.
In reality, she was uncovering the love she had felt for him for seven years. Like unwrapping a present where you weren’t quite sure what was inside. And then there it was, as real and overwhelming as it had always been.
And there was nothing she could do about it.
“I…I’m fine.” she stammered, her hand coming to touch her forehead as the thoughts leapt haphazardly about in her mind. “Will I see you tomorrow before you go? I still have debriefings, but I can make time.”
There was still a note of concern in his eyes as he regarded her, and he hesitated before he spoke, “Of course. Comm me before when you’re free.”
She knew it was time to go. They’d reached the place where they always parted, each walking back to the buildings that held their temporary quarters. She reached out to give him a friendly embrace, something that had become so familiar it made her ache. When she pulled back, she was surprised that he held on a bit longer, seeming reluctant to let her go.
Or maybe that was just her own need to hold on.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said softly, her hand finding a familiar place over his heart, the button of his coat pressing her palm. Chakotay reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his expression unreadable as he stared at her.
“Good night, Kathryn.” And then he was gone. His back disappeared in the darkness as she stood, arms hugging tight around her body, wishing he would come back and hold her just a little longer.
*************
“You’re free to go.”
Kathryn stared at the Admiral in front of her in stunned silence. They had been talking for only a couple of hours, it was barely 10 AM. She had expected a full day of grueling questions, had no indication her own debriefing would be over so soon.
“I am?”
Owen Paris leaned over from the opposite side of the table, smiling broadly, “Yes, you are. You’ve more than proven that your crew behaved admirably on the mission, and if we have any other questions they can be dealt with after the holidays. No charges will be filed against anyone from Voyager, and your officers will receive commission offers after we return. Go be with your family. Enjoy being home.”
The five admirals who sat facing her stood, offering their hands and smiles of congratulations as she stumbled through her thanks. It was so overwhelming, to be finally done. It was over.
As soon as she stepped out of the room, she hastened her steps to the nearest communication station. She commed Chakotay immediately, thrilled to share the news that it was over, they had done it. And most importantly, their crew was safe. This was their moment, their victory.
The heady rush of adrenaline faded slightly as his unit beeped and beeped, with no answer.
Well, no matter, she’d just walk over to his quarters. Maybe they could celebrate in person. They’d invite Seven.
Yes, it was time she got used to that as well, she thought resolutely.
Hurrying from the building, she nearly crashed into Ensign Malcon, a young man who she knew had been assigned to Chaktoay during the debriefings to help organize his schedule and provide any needed information. The young man blushed and nervously snapped to attention.
“Captain Janeway. I’m so sorry,” he stuttered, clearly embarrassed.
She smiled warmly at the young man, waving a hand to dismiss his worry, “No harm done. I think most people are in a bit of a rush with the holidays coming.”
He nodded vigorously, “Yes.” He paused, taking a breath, “Please wish Commander Chakotay well for me when you see him. It's been a privilege working with him.”
“Oh well I’m about to head to his quarters right now, I can certainly give him the message.”
The young man furrowed his brow, seeming confused, “The Commander left his quarters this morning. He had me book him a last minute transport that left a few minutes ago. I didn’t get to see him, he was in such a hurry.”
Gone? Her head swam as she processed what the ensign was saying.
She knew it was none of her business, but she asked anyway.
“To where?”
“Sweden. The residence of Lena Hansen.”
Seven’s aunt. Of course he’d spend his holiday with her. Of course.
The entire world seemed to shrink as the ensign in front of her prattled on, asking about her holiday plans as if nothing had happened. As if Chakotay hadn’t just left her without so much as a message to say he couldn’t see her.
Reeling, Kathryn forced a smile to her face and thanked the young man, turning toward her own quarters.
She hadn’t even buttoned her coat, and the wind was icy, fat flakes of snow falling onto her cheeks and lashes. Somewhere in the back of her mind it occurred to her she should be worried she barely felt the cold, but she trudged on anway, her long coat billowing behind her.
It was childish for her to be so angry, so hurt, that he left without saying goodbye. He was with Seven, and perhaps their plans had changed suddenly. After all, it was the holidays, and sometimes things come up. He didn't owe her an explanation.
A sharp, shredding pain lanced through her at the thought of Chakotay and Seven, curled up together in the lights of a Christmas tree.
Because, in truth, she wanted it to be her. She wanted that moment with him, wrapped up in love and the sparkle of lights and the beautiful knowledge that they could finally be everything she had been dreaming about for so long.
But she knew what the Admiral had told her.
It was why she had never brought up Seven on those late night walks. Yes, there was the occasional comment about her aunt or her adjustment to Earth, just as there were about any member of the crew. It was too painful for her to ask for more, and at least he was too gracious to force her to listen.
When the door to her quarters closed behind her, Kathryn stood uncertainly in the stark space. She had spoken to her mother yesterday, and knew Gretchen would be delighted for the unexpected gift of having her oldest daughter home for Christmas. She should comm her, let her know, but there was something she needed to do first.
The box was in her bedroom, buried under a mountain of others she hadn’t unpacked yet. There had been so little time for that, and she had known she’d be moving anyway. It only took a few moments for her to locate the small metal star, tucked inside the wooden bonding box that brought back another night on the holodeck she could hardly bear to think about.
“It will guide your way home.” she murmured softly, holding the ornament to the light, seeing each dent and bump in the handcrafted piece.
And, god, it hurt. It hurt more than she could have imagined, that any chance of a future with Chakotay had vanished in the stars.
And, for the first time, she let herself feel it.
The anger and the hurt and the bitter disappointment was no one’s fault but her own. That she pushed away this incredible, tender, gentle man for so many years, and then it was too late.
The tears came easily then, and great wracking sobs that had her wrapping her arms around herself to keep from splintering apart. The points of the star dug into her palm, and the tiny bright spots of pain were all that grounded her. It was a whirlwind of an emotional storm, ragged and intense, ripping through her as she stood, shaking, in the middle of her empty quarters.
She never even heard the door chiming insistently.
“Kathryn?” a deep baritone called out, the override chirp making his presence known.
Oh, she thought, she’d gone completely insane. She was hearing things in addition to having a complete breakdown. Lovely.
But that wasn’t the only sound, scuffling and muted whines, Chakotay’s voice speaking softly from the other room. Her grief-addled mind couldn't make sense of anything.
His head popped around the corner, excitement painted all over his face. It took about a second for him to take in her tear streaked cheeks, her red eyes, and she found herself hauled against the soft fabric of his shirt.
It felt so good, so inexplicably, devastatingly good, to be clutched in his strong arms with the smell of his cologne flowing through her senses. He stroked her back, murmuring softly, asking her what had happened. The blood roaring in her ears was making her lightheaded, and she wasn’t even listening to what he was saying.
“Kathryn, what’s wrong? Are you alright? I went to headquarters and they said you had been released…” His voice was anguished as he cupped her face in his hands, pulling her away from him to search her eyes.
She couldn’t seem to put the pieces together. Why was he here? Where was Seven? Had she lost her mind?
“You left. You went home for Christmas with Seven.” she said haltingly, trying to focus her jumble of thoughts.
Chakotay shook his head slowly, looking puzzled, his thumbs stroking her cheeks, “What? Kathryn…I thought you knew. Seven and I broke up a week after we got home. We aren’t together. I just secured an apartment on the west side, alone.”
He paused, studying her, a question in his dark brown eyes, “Is that why you’re upset?”
Silence.
She saw the moment it dawned on him. Surprise, then joy, sprinted across his handsome face.
His voice was so soft, but certain, and the words he said tilted everything she knew on its axis. “I thought you knew…God I feel like it's written all over my face. That it has been for seven years. Kathryn, I love you,” he smiled broadly, familiar dimples pressing his cheeks, happiness radiating from his features, “I was waiting until after debriefings to just, hopefully, ask you to dinner. We can take things as slow as you want, if you’re willing…”
Her entire body sagged against his, her hands fisting in his shirt as unexpected happiness and unspeakable relief burst in her chest. He wasn’t with Seven. Hadn’t been for weeks. He loved her. He was…
Kissing her.
Softly, slowly, with a tentative brushing of his mouth against hers that left her gasping. Her arms came around his neck, clinging tightly as she opened her mouth willingly, holding nothing back, hiding nothing. She had done that for too long already.
Deep, intimate sweeps of his tongue, his hands pulling her close and tight. She sank into the pleasure, the bliss, forgetting everything but him.
“I love you too. So much…I thought…it was too late.” she murmured softly against his lips, the heat of his mouth and his body flowing through her, the dizzying rush of joy making her weak.
“Never.”
By the time they broke for air they were both panting, a different type of ache throbbing insistently in her body. She was deliriously, desperately grateful. For him. For this moment.
As he moved to dive back into her mouth again, she slowed him with a hand to his chest, “But wait…you went to Seven’s aunt?” she asked, still not quite understanding how this all fit together.
Chakotay smiled sheepishly, dimples appearing in his cheeks as he blushed. “Ah…well, that was supposed to be a surprise.”
A muffled sound had both their heads turning back toward the living room. Kathryn’s eyes fell to a black bag that appeared to be…moving? She hadn’t noticed it when he came in, and Chakotay had clearly dropped it in alarm when he saw how upset she was.
“What is that?” she asked, swiping the tears from her cheeks and giving him a curious look.
“It's your Christmas present. I thought I would be back before you finished for the day, I actually got her from Seven’s aunt for you.”
“Her?” Kathryn asked incredulously as she watched Chakotay move to crouch beside the bag. Grinning, he opened a zipped and pulled out a small, wiggling ball of fur.
“Ms. Hansen is a breeder, Seven even helped me to pick this one out. Her name is Holly. She’s a yellow lab.” He stood, chuckling as the puppy desperately tried to lick his face, her tiny paws scrambling against his chest.
Kathryn’s hand came over her mouth in disbelief. He’d brought her a puppy. And told her he loved her. And it was Christmas.
How much joy could one heart possibly hold?
A sting in her palm had her opening her other hand, the small metal star still clutched inside it. The thought passed through her that, really, she’d been home the moment he gave this to her. When he became her rock, her anchor, her best friend. And now, finally, he could be so much more.
He could be everything.
She laughed, moving to him again, her hand ruffling the soft fur of the pup, watching his eyes widen as he saw the star in her hand. “It worked,” she said softly, pulling his mouth down to hers again, the puppy squirming between them, “I finally found my way home.”