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>Knit one, purl two.
A baby on a starship.
In all my years of training it was a situation I hadn't prepared for. It stuck a chord of paralyzing fear in me at first. We were already 150 souls stranded and alone, with no allies and few resources. And now we were about to have another tiny, fragile, beautiful life to shelter in our midst.
My first instinct was to ask questions, to make a plan. That's what captains do when they are caught by surprise.
But Samantha Wildman was looking at me with wide, terrified eyes as she told me she was going to give birth to a child her husband would likely never meet, in a place where nothing was safe or certain. This young woman had what should be a joyful realization turned into a world of fear and panic.
My heart ached for her.
I had thought about it myself not too long ago. Children. Family. Mark and I had spoken about it in a casual, “maybe someday” kind of way. The way you talk about something when you aren't sure you actually want it, but you don’t want to close the door on it just yet.
And now, with seventy thousand light years between myself and the man I thought would father those children, the door had slammed shut with a force that was echoing in my chest as I stood staring at a frightened young woman who was looking to me for guidance.
Who was I, to tell her that such a gift was anything short of extraordinary?
I decided then and there that 151 lives would be just fine, and felt a rush of affection for this young ensign who bravely stood expecting a demotion or reprimand.
The smile that bloomed on my face was genuine. We would do this together. All of us. The rush of relief on her strained features pulled at something deep inside me.
That's when I realized that this ship would be different.
People would die here and be born here. We would be, in every sense, a family.
There wasn’t much I could give her besides congratulations and my pledge to support her. I wanted to tell her we would make it back, that her child would be raised surrounded by family on a planet we all knew.
But I couldn’t.
So I went to the replicator that night and ordered up knitting needles and soft yard in the colors of a nebula. And I started to knit a blanket.
>Knit one, purl two.
I hadn’t expected it. One night I was wandering the corridors, headed to the mess hall to try and dredge up a reasonable coffee substitute and breathe some air outside my quarters. I had been reading reports about nearby planets for hours, and I needed a break.
The fretful wail of a baby had broken through the quiet hum of the engines. A feeling of sympathy spread through me. Naomi had been teething, and poor Samantha looked dead on her feet during her shift yesterday.
Smiling softly, I decided to find the exhausted woman and give her a break. I was awake anyway, I might as well have some company.
I turned the corner expecting to find a frazzled Samantha holding the infant, and instead what I saw stopped me in my tracks.
Chakotay was walking the hallways in slow, fluid strides, holding the infant wrapped in the blanket I had knitted for her. He was stripped down to his grey undershirt, likely warm from holding the baby close. He cuddled her in one arm, the other stroking over her forehead spikes in soothing motions.
Every hormone in my body kicked into overdrive.
He looked so natural, so happy. He radiated love and tenderness. I had been telling myself for months now I wasn't falling for this man with a kind heart and quiet intelligence. In that instant I knew I had only been fooling myself.
For the first time, I imagined what it might be like to feel his hand splay over my swollen stomach as his eyes lit up with joy at the flutter of first kicks. To see a sweet dark haired, dark eyed baby cuddle to his chest while he dozed in my quarters. The need it stirred in me was so powerful I found myself grabbing the wall for balance.
He whispered soft words to the wiggling infant, her cries slowly calming to whimpers. I didn’t know the language he was using, and that somehow made it even more intimate. Love emanated through the timbre of his voice.
When he turned to pace back in my direction, he startled slightly, a high pitched wail sounding briefly from Naomi before he settled a patting palm on her bottom. He flushed across the bridge of his nose as he saw me staring.
“Ah, Captain. I’m sorry if we disturbed you. I insisted that Samantha get some rest before she fell over.” He glanced down at the infant, who was gradually relaxing in his embrace, eyelids becoming heavy. “Besides, this little one is excellent company.” He smiled down at her.
I was honestly lost for words, watching this bear of a man who had fought alongside me with a fierceness I could hardly fathom, wrapping this small life in the warmth of his arms with a gentleness that took my breath away.
I felt my hand reach out of its own accord, caressing the downy head. The longing throbbed painfully in my chest.
Still, I managed a small smile as I met his eyes.
“Would the two of you like to walk down to the mess hall with me? May as well introduce her to the finest beverage in the Delta Quadrant at an early age…or at least an acceptable substitute for it.” I could feel my cheeks flame as he watched me, praying my voice didn’t tremble.
He grinned and nodded, shuffling the now sleeping baby bonelessly against his shoulder, a large palm stroking her back. “I think a cup of coffee before I bring her back to her mother sounds just about perfect.”
>Knit one, purl two.
Damn it, I can never get the ends of the rows to come out right on these blankets…
When the news of B’Elanna’s pregnancy reached me, the joy that flowed through my heart was indescribable. To have watched her go from a woman so angry and bitter, to a dedicated member of this crew and now, a mother, was a privilege I couldn’t begin to fathom. I was damn proud to call her a member of my crew and a dear friend.
But, just like Samantha several years before, her happiness was not without complications.
Slowly, I saw the conflict and fear hidden behind her stubborn jaw and sharp eyes. She was another frightened young mother, but this time for different reasons. B’Elanna was afraid of her own past and how it would impact her child.
She could protect this baby from the Delta Quadrant, but not from her heritage.
And as the grief and terror swirled inside her, I had never been so damned proud of Tom Paris.
The man who once told me that he didn’t believe in anything, that making the right choice didn't matter in the face of an easy choice, stood right up and became a father right before my eyes. Before he had even met that baby. He helped B'Elanna see what all of us saw, the incredible person she was, and the incredible mother she would be.
And then, finally, they began to let their happiness shine through all the uncertainty.
I had known for a long time now, that I would never be a mother. Years even. Since even before Mark's letter saying he had moved on.
There were still moments though, I was ashamed to admit, where a tiny flare of hope would catch me by surprise. Moments when I would sit on the bridge and let my eyes drift over the strong features of my first officer, watching his gentle hands move over the console between us. Moments over dinner when he would throw his head back and laugh in that way that shook his broad shoulders and pressed deep dimples into his cheeks. Moments when he looked into my eyes like he never wanted to look anywhere else ever again.
But that was a luxury I couldn't allow myself. Not out here. Not after all this time.
Still, the ache faded under the sweet bloom of happiness for Tom and B’Elanna. That night in my quarters I dug in the back of a rarely used drawer for soft yarn and smooth needles, and started another blanket.
>Knit one, purl two
We were in Earth’s orbit. Finally. Seven years, seventy thousand light years and about seven million cups of coffee since we left the debris of the Caretaker’s array and set a course for home.
As soon as the bridge was secured I made my way back to sickbay. An image of Chakotay standing beside Seven flashed through my mind, and the wave of nausea that swept through me had my head spinning even more. I needed to focus on something else, needed some space.
As the doors slid open, happiness flowed through me at the sight of Tom Paris holding a small blanket, a blanket I had knitted, close to his face as he murmured sweet words to the new life in his arms. My chest squeezed painfully, but in a good way that came from more happiness that a body can hold. These people were, in every sense of the word, my family.
“Captain!” B’Elanna ‘s face was pale from her ordeal, but her eyes were bright and brimming with pride. I couldn’t help but go over and embrace her carefully.
“Do you want to meet your goddaughter?” Tom’s grin was a mile wide as he watched us, proudly offering up the swaddled infant in his arms. “This is Miral Kathryn.”
The tears rushed up behind my eyes at that. Did I want to? There was nothing I wanted more.
And oh, it felt so perfectly lovely to hold little Miral and watch as her forehead ridges deepened while she regarded me with the inherent skepticism of a newborn. She was so beautiful, with her mother’s features and her father’s eyes. I couldn't help but lean over and breathe her in, my cheek resting against the soft fabric of the blanket.
“Congratulations! I came as soon as I could…” My entire body stiffened as the familiar voice boomed from the doorway. I wasn’t prepared to face him, had assumed he would be busy with Seven for some time still.
When I looked up, every pretense of composure fled from my mind.
Chakotay was staring at me with soft, tender eyes, and I heard his audible intake of breath as he froze in his tracks. Something deep and terrifying flourished slowly between us, as I stood there with a baby clasped to my chest and my heart pounding out a frantic rhythm.
I knew my face betrayed me in an instant.
All the longing, the near misses, the hope that I thought we had let drift away over the rough waters of the Delta Quadrant came roaring back as Miral let out a plaintive cry.
“Do you want to hold her?” my voice sounded hoarse even to my own ears, and I couldn’t stop looking in his eyes.
Chakotay nodded slightly, seeming as affected as I was. I took the steps toward him carefully, like a woman not sure of her footing. I suppose, in many ways, I wasn’t.
I couldn't stop thinking about that night years ago with Naomi, as we talked and laughed in the mess hall and cooed over a sweet, sleeping baby. How we looked at each other with shy hope and unspoken promises.
B’Elanna and Tom were silent behind us. I could feel them watching, knew we were probably the focus of their attention. I didn’t give a damn and I’m sure Chakotay didn’t either.
I eased the baby into his arms, our bodies touching briefly as I shifted her. The contact had me blushing, feeling warm and cold all at once. His breath feathered my cheek as he leaned in and, unexpectedly, brushed his lips close to my ear. “We need to talk,” he whispered.
Chakotay watched me with infinite patience as I struggled, my hands suddenly feeling empty as I twisted my fingers nervously.
Of course we needed to talk. But not now, not here.
Not with my emotions raw and bubbling to the surface, threatening to pull me under.
“Of course Commander, whenever you are free.” I used his rank to keep from crumbling. It was all I had left. My mind was screaming that he was with Seven, that surely I was imagining this entire scene, this deep desire to share a life, a family.
The shame of it burned through me. I turned on my heel and walked out, hearing Chakotay’s protests behind me.
I only made it to the turbolift before I felt the firm grip of his hand on my bicep, whirling me around to face him.
“Kathryn…what was that back there?” There was a hint of impatience in his tone, and I knew I deserved it. Seven years of keeping him at arm’s length and then I was standing there with a baby, looking at him in a way I had no right to. Not anymore and not when he was involved with someone else.
I gritted my teeth hard, trying to fight back the rising risk of tears that burned behind my eyes. It was just too much. Seven. Him. Earth. A baby.
I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
A warm hand cupped my face, his thumb stroking soothingly over my cheek. I was thrown further off-kilter by this gesture. How long had it been since he touched me like this? Looked at me like this? The floor lurched under me as I felt as I felt my equilibrium dissolve.
“It's all just a bit overwhelming right now, Chakotay. A lot of missed opportunities and wasted time.” I was losing the battle with my emotions in the middle of the damn corridor, melting under the intensity of his gaze.
“You looked beautiful back there. Holding Miral.” My eyes jerked up, his hand falling from my cheek to my arm. There was open need in his face. Need and desire and hope and …
“I love you.” I looked around desperately. Surely those words hadn’t come from me. But it was my voice, quivering and teary.
Damn it.
And then he was kissing me and my back was pressed against the wall while his hands gripped my hips. We were both saying it, over and over again, and we didn’t care who saw us. We were home.
>Knit one, purl two
I was so nervous. Terrified. I was pretty sure I was going to throw up.
I had taken on an entire damned quadrant and the thought of saying two words to the man I loved had me anxiously listening for the door of our Starfleet issue apartment. My heart dropped into my stomach as I heard the front door open, putting down the first few rows of a blanket I had started to knit in order to pass the time before he got home.
“Kathryn?” Chakotay's voice sounded tired, but happy. These days were long, with work and family and making sure our crew was settling-in to their new jobs 8 months after our return home. We had just moved into this apartment together a few weeks ago, and it was still littered with crates that needed to be unpacked.
I paused in the doorway from the kitchen, watching him as he shrugged his coat from his broad shoulders and hung it neatly by the door. Since we had gotten home he had let the grey come through in his hair, and the tense lines around his mouth and eyes had relaxed. His skin was a deep tan now from our evening walks in the summer sun and his tendency to hold his classes at the academy outside whenever possible.
I loved him more than I could possibly tell him.
When he saw me, the familiar spark of delight entered his face, and it made me blush. I felt so grateful to be the person who was able to make him smile like this, to get to love him freely and completely. I didn't know what I had done to earn his love, but I never wanted to stop.
I swallowed thickly and cleared my throat, the anxious twist in my gut making me struggle for the words caught there. He sensed it immediately, of course.
My sensitive, gentle man who always seemed to know when I was distressed. Concern etched on his handsome face immediately and he moved to reach for my shoulders, considering me.
“What’s the matter?” he asked me. I couldn’t quite meet his gaze yet, staring instead at a middle button on his shirt. My heart was hammering against my ribs.
“Chakotay…I,” I stuttered, found my breath, and tried again, “I’m pregnant…we’re pregnant.”
He didn’t answer me for a full minute, but his hands tightened almost painfully on my arms. When I finally brought my eyes from his shirtfront to meet his own, the sheen of tears in them completely undid me.
“Are you happy?” I asked him, vulnerability bleeding through my words.
He smiled then, full and unrestrained, a yelp of delight echoing in our apartment as he swept me into his arms. “Am I happy? What kind of question is that?” he husked against my neck, his tears dampening my skin.
“Kathryn Janeway. There aren’t even words for how full my heart is right now.”
I palmed his dear, tear-streaked face, kissing his mouth, holding him close. “Mine too, Chakotay. Mine too.”
>Knit one, purl two.
It's so quiet tonight I can hear the gentle slide of the knitting needles against one another as they move between my fingers.
There is soft singing from the other room, the gentle creak of a cradle on the wooden floor. The air is full of love.
This blanket is nearly finished, though of course it wasn’t done in time. Being my daughter, the little one in the next room was too impatient to arrive.
She came to us a full month early, with angry waving fists, shocking blue eyes and a head full of dark hair that stood up straight on her head. She had skinny legs and arms, wrinkly and ruddy. Her face was furious and scrunched, her mouth open in an indignant scream.
Chakotay told me she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
I have to chide him constantly to put her down, to stop spoiling her as he walks through the house with her nestled in his arms or slung in a carrier around his chest. He loves her with such fierencenss, such unending devotion that it takes my breath away. There’s a happiness in our lives I never thought was possible, a beauty that makes my heart swell and throb with its enormity.
I’m so lucky. So very lucky.
I finish the last row of this blanket and spread it across my lap. It's red and cream with a design that Chakotay said is traditional from his people. I was so honored when he shyly shared it with me, asking if I would be interested in using it.
It's perfect.
Finally, the sounds from the other room quiet and I hear his footsteps as they approach down the hall. We’re lucky this little one is an excellent sleeper, and we should have at least five hours of time to ourselves before I have to rise in the darkness and feed her.
His arms come around me, warm and comforting, his mouth trailing along my jaw. The thrill of excitement that runs through my body has me smiling, my hand moving around to cord through his hair.
“It's finished, the blanket,” I murmur proudly, tipping my head to the side to give his lips access.
His stills for a moment, his chin resting on my shoulder as he reaches out a hand to run it over the pattern. “It's beautiful,” he whispers. “You’re beautiful. Our daughter’s beautiful.” Then his mouth is moving again, and I sigh into his touch.
“Come to bed.” He rumbles against my shoulder, tugging me upward out of the chair.
The knitting needles and blanket fall to the floor, unheeded for now. I’ll get them in the morning.
For now, I want to steal a few precious hours with my husband. This man who has loved me at my best and at my worst. Whom I love in ways I never thought possible. Who has given me the dream that started when I watched him calm a fretful baby on a starship, seventy thousand light years from home.