Chapter Text
He’s just about to head out to get that second bottle of Antarian cider when Kathryn’s combadge beeps. She rolls her eyes and he chuckles, both knowing their moment of peace was too good to last. Now that the ship is no longer shattered into different timelines, it's on to the next thing the Delta Quadrant is ready to throw at them.
The cider will have to wait.
“Captain, there’s an intruder detected on Deck 8. We’ve located them and don’t believe them to be a threat, but-” There’s an uncharacteristic hesitation in Tuvok’s voice that makes Kathryn straighten in her chair. The gaze she shoots him is clear, something must be very wrong.
“Yes, Tuvok?”
“You should come and see for yourself, Captain. The Commander as well.”
Kathryn’s up out of her seat already, reaching for the jacket she discarded earlier in the evening. Five minutes ago she was staring at him with soft eyes and a tender smile, and now she’s every bit the captain. It's a transformation he’s seen dozens, maybe hundreds, of times before, and it still amazes him how quickly it happens.
“We’ll be right there. Janeway out.”
Tuvok doesn’t bother to ask if Chakotay is with her, and Kathryn doesn’t bother to say. Their Thursday dinners have somehow become nearly nightly dinners recently. Most of the crew assumes they’re sleeping together, or maybe that they have been for years. The irony is, they aren’t. They’re certainly circling closer to something, but he’s not sure what yet. There’s this feeling that they’re on the precipice, and soon they’ll have to decide if they’re willing to take the leap, or if they’ll walk away from it for good.
Personally, he’s always been willing, and somehow in the last year or two it's crossed over into actively wanting. He wants to be with her in more ways than she’s ready to hear, certainly more ways than she’d allow as captain and first officer. But, just as it always has been, the choice lies with Kathryn.
The longer they’re out here, though, the more he feels like he’s clinging to sand that’s slowly slipping through his fingers. Eventually, their time will run out.
For now though, they both have a job to do. They head out of her quarters and down the corridor with quick steps, almost at a jog. Kathryn’s at his shoulder, just as she always is, but suddenly he's nearly stumbling, awash in a rush of emotion he doesn't expect.
He’s hit with a sense of disbelief, then joy so bright it feels as if it splinters inside his chest. He gasps, and catches Kathryn’s look of concern beside him. What's happening to him? She touches his shoulder and slows her steps.
“Chakotay, is everything alright?” Her eyes are searching, “If you need to get some rest…”
The feeling’s gone just as quickly as it came, and he shakes his head. Surely he’s just still tired from his bizarre time travel journey that included everything from a blaster wielding Borg Seven to a grown version of Naomi. That must be it.
Regardless, he needs to get a grip. Now. He's not about to let Kathryn face an unknown visitor alone.
“I’m good. Let’s go.”
************
The intruder is hardly what they expected to find. Tuvok and the rest of the security team are waiting around the corner, and the Vulcan simply inclines his head to motion them ahead. The reason for their distance becomes apparent immediately.
It's a young girl, likely not more than ten, though he can’t be sure. She’s slim and slight, wearing brown pants with black boots, a cream shirt tucked in at the waist. Her dark hair is wild, hanging in knotted tangles around her slim face where its come free of a long braid. There are black streaks of what looks like dirt smudged across her cheek and hands. She’s in a half crouch, and he can see she’s ready to spring at the first danger to cross her path.
The instant she sees him her eyes snap to his, and he feels an unexpected jolt ripple through his body.
For a moment her small shoulders sag, recognition and relief flashing across her face. As if she knows him. Trusts him.
A breath later, it changes.
Stormy blue eyes narrow as he steps closer, then widen in alarm. He sees her take a sharp breath, alarm skittering across her face. What amazes him most is how quickly it is all masked with a steely bravado that seems so unlike a child her age. She draws herself up to her full four feet of height, and pulls a phaser from her belt with a speed that rivals his own.
She trains it on him so quickly there's no time to react. Not that he's certain he would pull his weapon if he had been able.
Her voice is strong, clear, with echoes of an authority he’s been following for the last seven years.
“Who are you? Where is Voyager?”
*************
Chakotay freezes, barely daring to breathe as this tiny force of nature stares him down with a menace that would make even the Borg give pause. He isn’t afraid of the phaser shot, per say, he just doesn’t want to frighten the child any more than she already is. Because despite her stance, he can see the tiny quiver of the hand that braces the arm holding her phaser, the high flush on her cheeks.
She’s just a child. And she’s scared.
“We don’t mean you any harm.” he says softly, raising his hands to his side, palms open in surrender.
He hears Kathryn’s voice, soft and disbelieving, “She’s just a girl.”
The phaser doesn't budge.
“Who are you?” the girl asks again, louder this time, her feet widening as she steadies her aim.
“My name is Commander Chakotay. This is the Federation Starship Voyager.”
Confusion and dismay flash across her delicate features. “You’re lying. Is this a hologram? A prison?” She hisses and reaches out with her supporting arm to trail her fingers across the cool wall of the corridor, as if to test whether or not it is real.
“I promise you he’s telling the truth.”
Kathryn’s voice comes from behind him, warm and soothing. Her hand touches his shoulder, and she steps forward to face the girl.
As he stands there, watching them, a strange feeling begins to creep up Chakotay’s spine. There is a striking similarity in the set of the shoulders, the timbre of the young voice just beginning to enter adolescence, the eyes that carefully mask the fear behind an iron clad courage.
It's almost as if-
“What’s your name?” Kathryn asks, her own hands open, her phaser still safely holstered.
The girl has paled, her arm now visibly shaking, and she takes a step back. The reaction is even more intense, more conflicted, than when she saw Chakotay. He doesn’t understand why she seems so frightened, they’re both making it clear they only want to help
It's clear she is fighting an internal battle they don’t understand.
There’s no doubt in his mind this young girl didn’t come here intentionally, and even less that she wants to harm them. She’s just trying to protect herself.
And deciding whether or not she can trust them.
Chakotay stays quiet as he watches her decide, her small chin tucking in a gesture of defiance as she speaks.
“My name is Tananka Janeway. I am a member of the crew of the Starship Voyager. And you are not her captain and first officer.”
What?
In disbelief, Chakotay turns his head to look at Kathryn. He watches her lips part, shock registering on her face before she carefully regains her composure.
She must feel it too. This sense of wonder, yet utter certainty that's roaring through his head as to exactly who this child is.
It can't be, he thinks, but it is.
“How do you know that?” Kathryn asks slowly.
“Because -” for the first time, the child’s voice breaks, and something primal in Chakotay’s chest aches to go take her in his arms. “Because I’m their daughter.”
***********************
His daughter. Their daughter.
“She’s our-” The words tumble out, but Kathryn hushes him with a subtle motion of her hand, taking another step forward. He has no idea how she manages to sound so calm, when he feels like he’s flying apart.
“Tananka Janeway. What stardate is this?”
Tananka chews her lower lip, seeming to debate whether or not to answer. “2388.”
Chakotay’s head spins. 2388. That is eleven years from now.
His mind flies to his own recent foray into accidental time travel. Is it possible? Could she have somehow been pulled here by some ripple of his own actions in another future? Its a mind-bending prospect.
But he has the face the fact that it is, in all likelihood, a reality.
Somehow, in some timeline, he and Kathryn have created a child. This child. They might have a life together, maybe they’re even married. He’s nearly lightheaded as he tries to take it all in, the manifestation of everything he’s hoped for with the woman he’s loved for years standing in front of him with her mother’s eyes.
Even though he can’t see Kathryn’s face, Chakotay can see the nearly imperceptible tremor that runs through her. The way her stance tightens, her small form gaining a fraction of height as she absorbs the blow they were just dealt.
In a movement that takes his breath away, the girl in front of her does the same.
“I know this probably seems unbelievable, Tananka, but it seems you are on the real Voyager, just a different time. The stardate here is 2377. You’re in the past.”
Tananka’s chest moves with a deep breath, fear flashing through her eyes. The need to comfort her, go to her, is nearly unbearable. Chakotay wonders if Kathryn is grasped by the same need.
By the way her hand fists at her side, knuckles white, he guesses she is.
“Prove it to me-” the phaser swings from one to the other, “Prove you’re really them.”
“How-”
The girl pauses for a moment, considering, her grip tightening. There’s a hint of panic in her eyes now, and it physically hurts Chakotay to see it. Its as if someone is twisting something tight in his chest, like a rubberband wound to the point of breaking. There’s a moment where he actually considers stepping forward and risking getting blasted with a phaser.
“Turn them off. Your translators,” Tananka says, swallowing hard as she fights for composure. He hesitates, but Kathryn gives him a small nod. It's not as though the girl has someone to conspire with if they don’t know what she’s saying. The request is a mystery in itself.
Until the child speaks again.
“Tell me about my name.” Tananka demands. Her body shifts, her eyes fixed on his. There’s a distressed, almost pleading undertone to her command, as if she desperately needs him to find the right answer.
Tell me the story again, papa. Tell me about my name.
He hears the words from somewhere far away, in a tiny voice blended by the lisp of toddlerhood.
Kathryn looks over her shoulder, casting Chakotay a helpless glance. That’s when he understands the reason that he knows what the child is saying, but Kathryn doesn’t.
The language the girl is speaking, it's the language of his homeworld.
And she’s looking at him like he’s her last hope, her lifeline in a storm that’s threatening to pull her under. Somehow, in that moment, he knows the answer, knows the words that some version of himself years from now has whispered to her.
Chakotay steps forward, until he’s nearly abreast of her weapon and clears his throat.
Emotions swirl in his chest as he speaks, “Its a name that comes from one of the stars, the blue one that’s right over the western field and never varies. You’re named for your grandmother, my mother. She’s on Dorvan, so I’m guessing you’ve never met her. But she used to know the name of every star and every fern, and always made me tea when I was sick, and her hair was just the same color as yours. We knew the moment we saw you that you’d be strong, steady, and bright. Just like her.”
The image of speaking to a tiny dark haired girl, telling her stories about his mother, brings a pang of longing. It's less a memory, and more a feeling. The weight of her in his arms, the softness of her hair on his cheek, as they sit beneath the starry holodeck sky and his voice carries the stories of his childhood. There’s laughter, a small hand on his cheek, and more happiness than he’s ever felt before.
Kathryn gives him a puzzled look, her eyes searching his face for an answer. He can't explain it, how he knows that some form of himself has had these moments with this girl, but he can feel it in his bones. His heart.
And he hopes this child feels it too.
The phaser lowers slowly. One breath passes, then two. Soon, the small face in front of him loses the look of a warrior, and is that of a young girl who was frightened and lost.
Kathryn reaches out a hand, her voice gentle. “Come on, let’s talk some more. Everything is all right. You’re safe.”
She wraps a reassuring arm around the girl, her eyes still on Chakotay. The look that passes between them is fraught with more questions than answers.
What the hell were they going to do now?