Chapter Text
"Kathryn, wake up."
Chakotay's whispered voice drifts to her through the unconscious of sleep. It's not the urgency or desperation to his tone which captures her attention, but the unexpectedness. What is he doing in her room?
Kathryn's eyes snap open. White sheets, wooden headboard, natural light coming through the curtains of a window. This isn't her quarters on Voyager. Where the hell is she?
A hand feathers fleetingly over her shoulder. Her bare shoulder. "Kathryn?"
What the hell?
She twists abruptly onto her other side, to find her first officer in the bed beside her. He's propped up on an elbow, the sheets down by his waist exposing his smooth bare chest.
"Chakotay?" she asks hesitantly, suddenly feeling extremely vulnerable, "What's going on?"
"I don't know," he says, looking around the room with an equal sense of confusion, "I just woke up here. What's the last thing you remember?"
"I was asleep in my quarters on Voyager," she recalls, "You?"
"Same."
Kathryn stirs, intending to sit up, but stills when his hand comes back to her shoulder.
"I'm not wearing anything," he tells her wearily.
Doing a quick assessment of her own state of undress, she realises that she too is completely naked beneath the sheets. "Me neither," instinctively she pins the covers a little firmer around herself. A fresh wave of horror overcomes her as an uncomfortable thought strikes. "Did we-"
"No… I mean, I don't know," he says quickly, clearly with similar concerns. "At least, I don't think so."
That's hardly reassuring. Examining her own body, she feels none of the telltale signs of sex. It's unlikely anything untoward has happened in the bed. They both fell asleep on Voyager, in each of their respective quarters, and woke here, in this strange room together.
"I'm going to take a look around," Chakotay explains, a subtle warning to avert her gaze, before he climbs from the bedsheets. Her eyes unintentionally catch sight of his butt as she turns her focus to the window. She shouldn't enjoy the sight the way that she does.
Kathryn listens to scrambling sounds as he opens doors and drawers and searches for clues as to where they are and what has brought them here. After a minute or so, she feels his presence at her side of the bed. A flash of fabric, and the sight of covered legs, gives her the confidence to look up to see he is fully dressed, and oh no , the sight gives a familiar flutter to her heart.
Chakotay's not only out of uniform, but the civilian clothes are instantly recognisable. Brown pants, thick belt, maroon shirt rolled up to his elbows, He hasn't worn them in a long time. Not since… she stops her train of thought right there, refusing to think about that place.
Looking up to meet his gaze, she sees a deep worry etched into his features. He's discovered something in his search, and it's rattled him.
"Where are we?" her voice is barely a whisper when she speaks this time, because she thinks they both already know the answer.
"I don't think we're on a ship anymore," his hand shifts, and she notices he's offering her some clothes, "Come and take a look."
He stands with his back to her as she pulls on a simple blue dress. When she's ready, she moves beside him and rests a hand on his shoulder. He turns, and sucks in an involuntary breath at the sight, clearly overcome by the same familiarity.
Trying to ignore the way he's looking at her, she straightens her shoulders. "Let's figure out what's going on," she says, breezing past him, to a door which he's left ajar.
It's the room she half expects to walk into, but at the same time, the shock still takes her breath away. Gray interior walls of an emergency shelter, central dining table and standard issue kitchenette. This is, was their home on New Earth.
It's been four years. How is this even possible?
"What's going on?" she says the thought out loud.
He answers anyway. "I don't know."
They walk around the cabin. It's not how they left it; tidy and orderly. There are papers strewn across the table, two empty coffee cups on the side, coats hanging at the front door. This place is being lived in.
There are other, more significant changes too. Her eyes refuse to register them at first, but as she slowly sweeps around the space they become increasingly difficult to ignore.
A stool by the sink. Highchair at the table. Toys on a shelf. A new doorway.
No. They wouldn't…
She meets Chakotay's eye and they share an uneasy look. What the hell is going on?
It's Chakotay who braves the additional doorway, his hand firm on the handle as he opens it up. The door swings open to reveal a second living space; a snug. It's a log construction, just like he always said he would build. Except this is complete, furnished with other hand made pieces: a coffee table, a bookcase, probably the couch too.
Kathryn ignores the children's paraphernalia as they explore, but notices Chakotay linger over a plush toy on the side; he picks it up and quietly examines it. She refuses to acknowledge the implication.
Two further doors tease at them across the space. Taking a breath and holding it, she opens one up. It's a study. No, more than that. It's a laboratory. Homemade insect traps and survey equipment, computer screens and examination tools. The research has continued; the search for a cure.
"Kathryn," his voice calls out, and from the displacement of the sound, she knows that he's entered the other room.
A sense of apprehension and foreboding runs up her spine. She doesn't want confirmation of what he's discovered; although she knows what it will be.
Her heart sinks anyway when she finally sees it: a nursery.
A small cot with made up covers. A hand knitted blanket of a pattern similar to what she made for Naomi. Toys tidied into shelves on the wall, and a cupboard likely filled with clothes. It's apparent that no one else is here, but it's not clear if an infant resides in this space, or this is in anticipation of an arrival.
Her gut twists either way. If there is a child, where are they now?
Out of the corner of her eye she watches as Chakotay wanders over to a mirror. He lifts his shirt a little, and examines the skin around his lower abdomen. He finds what he's looking for, and turns back to her. "I still have the scar from the Hirogen attack," he tells her.
They encountered the Hirogen after New Earth.
Why hasn't he had the scar healed up by the EMH? Not enough time, or has he kept it as a morbid souvenir from another brush with death?
Kathryn has a small metal plate on the base of her spine, a residual from her assimilation last month. The Doctor was allowing the surrounding tissue to recover before he removed that final Borg artifact. She suspects if she lowers her dress she will see it's still there.
They are in the right bodies; just the wrong place.
But is it the wrong time? It's been four years since they were stranded on this planet together. Four years, and he's built a log cabin and furniture. She's restarted her research. The bedrooms of the original shelter have been combined into a single shared space, with a double bed and then of course, there's a nursery.
There are significant enough changes to indicate that a similar amount of time has passed on this planet. However, that doesn't explain what they are doing back here, or how they arrived.
The same thoughts are clearly running through his mind. When he meets her gaze this time, there's a disconcerting look etched into his features. "This is the cabin I designed," he tells her.
Her brows furrow. She remembers him teasing the idea, speculating on how to achieve the construction. She didn't realise he'd gone as far as to design it.
She narrows her eyes, "The nursery too?"
He holds out his hands in a helpless gesture. "It wasn't the sole purpose of this space, but I had considered it was a possibility."
Kathryn sucks in a sharp breath at the thought and glances away, unwilling to consider all of the implications behind what he's just said. "I wouldn't," she's adamant. "Not here. Not like this."
"It might not have been planned…" he tries to explain it anyway.
"I wouldn't," she insists. She turns back to him, hands on hips, just in time to catch the flash of hurt cross his features. It's fleeting, but it's there; the pain of her quick dismissal.
In truth, she hasn't really considered it, hasn't allowed herself to think about this place and what would have happened if they'd stayed. For whatever reason, the universe has decided to give them a glimpse anyway.
Chakotay sighs, and with another look around the space, pulls himself together. "We need to establish if there's anyone else here, anyone who might depend on us," he's being vague for her benefit.
"You perform a visual search, I'll try the computer logs." The command tone is easier to hide behind.
And with the semblance of a plan, they begin their quest to discover what the hell is going on.