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Chapter Text

As the doors to Kathryn’s quarters swished shut, the corners of her lips turned up into an almost-smile.

“It’s strange,” she’d said, “thinking there’s a piece of your life you don’t know anything about.”

“Sounds a lot like the future,” he’d replied.

She was sure Chakotay had visited the future, or one possible future among many.

He’d been different since he’d returned from his temporal excursion. He seemed even more at ease, if that were possible. His movements seemed lighter, as if he’d shed a burden he didn’t know he’d been carrying. His skin seemed different, too, smoother, healthier. Was he glowing?

And the two of them were different together, more excited and relaxed, though they’d smiled, laughed, and flirted no more nor less than they usually did. Several times that evening his gaze had caught her by surprise and she’d felt herself swaying off balance, but she’d always caught herself in time.

He’d had quite an appetite at dinner. How long had he been gone? Had it been so long that he was seeing her, and all the crew, again as if for the first time? She wondered whether the Department of Temporal Investigations provided counselors for that sort of difficulty. In any case, he didn’t seem to be having trouble readjusting, if that was what he was doing.

What had he seen? What did he now know that he couldn’t reveal?

He reappeared with another bottle of Antarian cider, settled back into his chair – when had she begun thinking of it as “Chakotay’s chair”? – and refilled their glasses. He turned the conversation to her childhood, her years at the Academy, her first missions – asking not for retellings of what he already knew, but stories she hadn’t yet told him. She indulged him, weaving stories with her words and hands, bringing him often to laughter and once almost to tears. She briefly suspected he’d visited some of those times in her life and was comparing what he’d seen to what she remembered, but had a stronger feeling that his line of questioning was meant to throw her off the scent of the future.

She watched him refill their glasses yet again. His eyes, delighted, amused, mysterious, caught her own once more. Steady, she told herself.

“And when you first accepted command of Voyager, before you were assigned to find me in the Badlands, how did you imagine your captaincy would go?”

She smiled at him. That would have been a Pandora’s Box of a question even two years ago, but things were different now. Better.

“As you know, Voyager was designed to be an all-purpose ship, ready for any kind of mission at any time, which has served us well here in the Delta Quadrant. Originally, though, our primary mission was to pursue scientific discoveries.” She paused, wistfully noting how carefree that moment of her life seemed from her present perspective. “I expected that we would most often be assigned to chart rare stellar phenomena, assist with planetary research projects, and make first contacts.” Her voice dropped to a low, gravelly almost-whisper. “Of course, we’ve done all that, and so much more. I have no regrets, not anymore, thanks to you.”

She put her hand on his knee in a gesture of gratitude and he radiated warmth at her, with a hint of something more. She knew she should move her hand away, turn her eyes away from his, but she didn’t, not for a long moment. She drew comfort from their physical contact as well as that something more, which she refused to name. He was a beautiful man. She’d never tire of looking at him. Was he reading her mind? Did it matter?

Finally, she sat back, withdrawing from the edge that was always there but seemed closer than usual tonight, and asked him in turn to tell her something about his youth she didn’t already know.

He thought for a moment, then treated her to a dimpled smile. “When I was young, I loved to solve puzzles.”

“The kind that Naomi and Icheb were doing earlier tonight?”

“Yes, but also any kind of puzzle: multilingual, multidimensional, whatever I could find, whatever anyone could throw at me. And I was always determined to finish them as quickly as possible.”

“I’m not surprised.” It gave her joy to envision a young Chakotay solving a multitude of puzzles one after another.

He set his glass down on the table and his eyes drew her further into his orbit. “I’ve recently realized, unlike my younger self, that there are some puzzles worth savoring over the long term.”

Kathryn felt her skin grow warmer. “What kinds of long-term puzzles are you savoring these days?”

He put on his best poker face but she caught a flicker of regret.

“Don’t tell me you can’t tell me because of the Temporal Prime Directive.”

The laughter came back to his eyes. “Not exactly.”

He quickly changed the subject and regaled her with more stories, still giving off the same, easy, casual glow. The candlelit room glowed with him. He seemed so comfortable in his skin. Sitting perfectly still on the couch, Kathryn felt as if she were falling toward him, like a comet falling toward a star, and wished she could stay in this moment forever.

They grew quiet and she came back to herself. Their glasses were empty, the second bottle was empty. She glanced at the chronometer and stifled a small gasp. It was quite late, even for them, even though they both had the next day off. His eyes followed hers and he gave her a tired smile, standing to bring the glasses and the empty bottles to the recycler as she moved to clear the table.

When they were finished, she turned to him. “Thank you for a wonderful evening.”

“The pleasure was mine.”

They were standing close together, as they often did, perhaps closer than usual. She blinked and he was pressing his soft lips against hers. Kathryn had never been kissed so gently before, nor so sure of the full force of Chakotay’s passion. She inhaled his scent – sweat and sandalwood – and let herself melt into his incandescence.

She opened her eyes and as they moved ever so slightly apart he gave her a mysterious smile. Before she could express her astonishment in words, he bade her goodnight.

The doors to her quarters closed behind Chakotay for a second time that evening. Kathryn’s hand drifted to her neck and she gave herself an absent-minded massage while staring at nothing.

The first and only other time he’d kissed her, nearly two years before, had also been a surprise. They’d been dancing, slowly, in a holodeck recreation of Venice. Caught up in the heat of their embrace, for a few long moments they gave in to the desire that had been building between them for years. Afterward, they’d finally had a long overdue conversation about the romantic feelings they shared but could never act upon while they remained in the command structure.

The catalyst and memento of that evening, a bonding box, now sat in a desk drawer in her quarters. It gave her comfort to pull it out from time to time and run her fingers over its engravings, especially the three free-standing circles that signified hope. Each time, she longed for the day she might exchange them for the three intersecting circles that signified romantic love.

Since that episode, she and Chakotay continued to co-exist more or less comfortably with the unconsummated desire that lived between them like an unruly corner of Airponics left to itself. According to an unspoken agreement, they took turns tending to it whenever it started to get out of hand. Captain Janeway’s daily life was devoted to the safety and well-being of her crew, but in her loneliest moments, Kathryn allowed herself to remember that kiss and revel in the warmth its memory spread through her. She took comfort in having something of her own to live for now, too.

But she had to be very careful. It had not been easy for her to tell Chakotay of the accident that claimed Justin and her father’s lives, and how it had affected her ever since. Knowing that he understood and continued to support her helped her feel less alone. Still, she’d asked a lot of him, without formally asking anything at all. They were both free to pursue other relationships, but she doubted either of them would.

She acknowledged that her usual defenses had not sufficiently withstood time travel’s enhancements to Chakotay’s already irresistible allure. But that failure only registered on an intellectual level; she was too thrilled by their second kiss to be disappointed in herself.

During her musings she’d gone on autopilot, changed into her nightgown and robe, and made her way to the bathroom. She caught a glimpse of her flushed cheeks in the mirror and knew that the cider wasn’t to blame. She still felt the heat from his kiss, as if he’d singed her lips, and the strength of desire he’d stirred up spread through her body like the low thrum of the warp core at rest, ready to leap into action at a moment’s notice.

Finally reclining in bed, she took some deep breaths to calm herself and tried to imagine what new knowledge would have motivated him to disrupt the delicate balance of their emotional ecosystem. Under other conditions, she would insist on a conversation and find a way to return to the status quo. This time, the Temporal Prime Directive all but ensured she would never be privy to that knowledge. Their precious status quo was as good as out an airlock.

Where would they go from here?

Chapter Text

In the utter darkness of the Void, depth of perception was a luxury, and the crew took to every glimmer of light like humanoids dying of thirst to drops of water. No matter their familiarity with Voyager, under the low lights the Captain had ordered, their ship had become a mysterious labyrinth, but one whose mysteries they could scarcely appreciate as they fought to survive.

Kathryn carefully traced her way back to her quarters after another 18-hour work day and discovered a large, familiar shadow hovering at the door. “I thought you might like some of this.” Chakotay held up a bottle of whisky.

“You thought right.”

She told him to turn off his wrist beacon to conserve energy, then put hers on the coffee table and pointed it at the ceiling, where it cast an ominous glow. Only when he leaned into its narrow well of brightness to pour their glasses could she see his face, tired but none the worse for wear. As they settled into their seats, she couldn’t really see him anymore, only the outlines of his uniform sleeves, the creases of his pants, muted flesh tones where his face and hands must be. Nonetheless, she took comfort in his presence.

“Today was a good day.”

“Yes, we’ve finally found allies in earnest.”

They sat in companionable silence. It was dangerous, sitting so close to him, allowing her mind to wander. Since the night of their second kiss, the mystery of its meaning, and all it might imply, had become a powerful distraction.

At one point, following a power surge, they’d worked together on repairs in Engineering. She calibrated tools as he repaired a power coupling, and whenever she had a free moment she found herself staring at his hands as he worked, imagining how they would feel against her skin, tracing the ribs under her breasts, then down her belly, and along her inner thighs.

A few weeks later, when Tom and B’Elanna learned they were expecting, Kathryn almost walked into a bulkhead imagining the children she and Chakotay might have.

Sometimes, as she sat in her Captain’s Chair on the Bridge, all too aware of the energetic, effortlessly commanding First Officer at her side, she’d stare into the viewscreen, silently willing him to tell her how long it would take to reach the Alpha Quadrant.

Tell me how long. How much longer?

Once, she made the mistake of looking right at him.

“Captain?”

She recovered quickly. “Carry on, Commander. I’ll be in my Ready Room, you have the Bridge.”

Returning her attention to her companion and their present surroundings, Kathryn noted the only sounds she could hear were the low thrum of the warp core, their quiet breathing, and the occasional clink of a glass on her coffee table. Their drinks were nearly finished. In the near silence and pervasive shadows, it felt like they were the only two people in the universe.

She’d been keeping him in her quarters later and later after every weekly dinner, willing herself to reciprocate his affection, but she couldn’t go through with it, not without knowing more. Even now, in the insistent darkness, it was so very late, and their drinks were now finished, but he hadn’t hinted that he might leave. Maybe he didn’t know exactly when it would happen, either – whatever needed to happen for them to be together romantically. So he was gently, patiently waiting, biding his time, transforming the near blackout of her living room into an inviting safe space.

“What’s going through that mind of yours?” He broke the silence with genuine curiosity.

Embarrassment and apology crossed her face, unseen by him. “Oh, a puzzle I haven’t been able to solve.”

“I believe I’ve told you that I enjoy puzzles.”

“You have.”

“Would you like to run it by me?” He leaned forward, forearms on his thighs, his interlaced fingers catching the light. A hint of sandalwood drifted toward her and she savored it.

She thought a long moment. “It’s not the kind of puzzle that can be shared. At least, not until I’ve made more progress on my own.”

“Ah.” He drew back.

She was never this cryptic. She knew he knew she had almost opened up to him, and that now she was backing off.

But still he wouldn’t leave.

And she wouldn’t tell him to go.

Is this the right moment?

I always want it to be the moment.

But this can’t be the moment. Not when we’re covered in warp engine grime and sweat and can hardly see each other or anything else.

And if this isn’t the moment, then when will it be?

How will I know?

This uncertainty is going to kill me.

She heard him shifting slightly toward her, then felt the warmth of his hand firmly in her own. Something about the way he’d reached out felt too portentous, Void or no Void.

“Kathryn, if – ”

“Don’t say another word, Chakotay, we’re getting out of here. It’s not a question of if, only when.”

“Aye, Captain.”

She inwardly cursed herself for censoring him, even as he quickly rekindled the conversation, apparently unfazed, still sending her strength through their clasped hands.

“What’s the first thing you want to do when we’re clear of the Void?”

She didn’t have to think about it. “Take a hot bath with all the lights on.” He laughed at that. “What about you?”

“I’ll go on a vision quest. I haven’t opened my medicine bundle since we arrived. I don’t want to damage or lose any items in the dark.”

“Oh, Chakotay.” He couldn’t see her pout when she learned the Void was depriving him of his spiritual practice.

It would have been so easy to pull him toward her. She didn’t even know why she was resisting anymore. Was it her fear of betraying her crew by putting her needs before theirs? Or her fear of losing herself in him? They amounted to the same thing: fear of fear. Kathryn decided she was most cowardly Starfleet captain she’d ever met.

They sat in silence a while longer, then he gave her hand a squeeze and let go.

“Captain, we should get some sleep.”

“Yes. Rest well, Commander.”

“You, too.”

He activated his wrist beacon and walked out. Only then did she notice he’d left the bottle on her coffee table. She ignored his advice and poured herself another shot.

If, indeed.

Chapter Text

Ignoring the glare of her Ready Room lights, Kathryn worked until it was so late it was actually very early.

After a futile attempt to sleep on the couch beneath the viewport, she replicated her first cup of coffee of the day. The steamy, bitter aroma rising from her titanium mug gave her a boost she was too tired to realize would be short-lived.

They’d been back from Quarra for over a month and she hadn’t had Chakotay over for a weekly dinner once. The first week he’d commed her, she’d said she wasn’t up to it. The second week he’d suggested they have dinner in the mess hall and she’d turned him down. The third week he’d offered to make her dinner in his quarters, but she said she had a migraine. Last week he hadn’t even brought it up. He probably thought she wanted to nurse her broken heart alone, and indeed she did, but it wasn’t broken in the way he might have thought.

It disturbed her how quickly she’d fallen out of love with Jaffen and back in love with Chakotay. Of course, she hadn’t really fallen out of love with Chakotay, just had the memory of him temporarily erased, along with so many other essential memories. Thank goodness it was all only temporary, no permanent damage done to any of the Voyager crew, besides the trauma, of course.

There was no way to travel through the Delta Quadrant without having your very sense of self violated. They’d been doubled, stranded, returned to their ship, kicked off their ship, returned again, and all of that only in the first two years. After that, they’d been brainwashed more times than she could count, and the only reason she didn’t think it was a miracle they were more or less in one piece was because she knew that Starfleet training was the reason they were surviving and thriving.

It was the Quarra episode, followed by the restoration of her memories, that made Kathryn admit to herself she was in love with Chakotay, and had been for a long time, at least since New Earth. The respite from the agony made her realize how terrible it was to live with her desire without acting on it. She thought about how terrible it must be for him, tried to imagine how he lived with the constraint she’d imposed on them both, and suddenly her heart felt trapped in a quagmire of irrepressible guilt.

She felt a lesser but no less gnawing guilt when she remembered she hadn’t been following up with Seven as much as usual. It was unusual that she hadn’t reported any progress with her holodeck research since she’d first brought it up. Kathryn made a note to ask her about it, then erased it. Basic research can’t be rushed, her quantum physics professor always said. The Voyager crew more than made up for it by rushing applied research every single day of their lives, experimenting with any technology that might get them home faster, calculating how to increase energy efficiency, always trying to make more with less.

As far as her heart was concerned, however, Kathryn was done experimenting, done trying to make more with less. She was convinced the future that had allowed Chakotay to kiss her was never going to happen. Or else it was a different future than the one she hoped for, and he’d kissed her out of pity, knowing she’d be alone for the rest of her life. Or else she was going to die soon and he thought he’d never have another chance.

But their friendship was good for Voyager. And it was good for them both. She had to make an effort.

As if on cue, her door chimed.

“Come in.”

“Good morning, Captain.”  

“Morning, Commander.”

Never had he looked more polished and ravishing in his crisply pressed uniform, yet in his eyes she saw his disappointment that she hadn’t gone to bed last night as he’d suggested. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. She was sure she looked terrible under the bleak lights, and made a note to herself to adjust the color settings later. It was so difficult to work with the mint green color scheme...

He finally spoke. “Tuvok reports all systems nominal, except that – ”

“– something’s off in the core. I can feel it through the deck plating. I was just going down to Engineering to check.”

“B’Elanna’s already been working on it and will have a report for you within the hour.”

His eyes strayed to the couch, then back to her, a lone raised eyebrow suggesting that she should take a nap. She ever so infinitesimally shook her head, and it happened again: that look in his eyes. It hurt him that she was shutting him out. Not just that she wasn’t following his completely reasonable advice about getting enough sleep, but that she wasn’t allowing any conversation between them that wasn’t ship’s business. She wasn’t allowing him to cajole her into meals and holodeck visits and other pretexts to pursue their friendship and unacknowledged romantic feelings.

“Very well, Commander. You have the Bridge.”

“Aye, Captain.”

The air seemed to leave the room with him.

She sighed deeply. So much for making an effort.

We’ll have weekly lunches instead. Technically we’ll still be on shift. Everything will be professional.

Kathryn observed her mind treating her heart with utter cruelty, and resolved to leave it alone for the rest of the day. There would be plenty of time for self-recrimination again after her shift.

Chapter Text

Concentrate on the flame.

Tuvok had been generous in sharing his space and instructing her in meditation every evening.

Now that she knew about his illness, he’d admitted it had been centering for him to have the company.

Her distress at his news took up a lot of headspace when she had nothing else to do but concentrate on the flame. But the practice of meditation was not unlike Starfleet training: even though it lay bare the profound instabilities of her existence, it also brought her an unexpected sense of security, sometimes even peace. Keep going. Follow protocol. Stay the course. Survive.

Once in a while Kathryn’s anxiety would flag and the need to sleep became overwhelming. A few weeks ago she’d nodded off during a session and was mortified when Tuvok gently roused her and told her to go to bed.

Now, if she needed to keep awake during sessions, she blinked her eyes and bit her tongue or cheek, until they almost bled. Eventually some new or newly remembered anxiety sent a cortisol shot through her body and she could redouble her efforts to concentrate on the flame.

Concentrate on the flame.

She’d finally accepted her old friend’s long-standing invitation to meditate shortly after she’d left off having weekly dinners with Chakotay. When she appeared at Tuvok’s door that first evening, he seemed completely unsurprised and simply brought his extra meditation cushion out of the closet for her. When she returned the next evening, the extra meditation cushion had already been placed next to his. They’d never talked about why she suddenly wanted to meditate with him, nor why she suddenly wanted to do so every night, nor how he had deduced that she was ready for a daily commitment.

Is this the future Chakotay saw? With Seven?

Then it really was a kiss goodbye.

He can’t know that he’s going to marry her only for her to die in his arms. He can’t know that he’s never going to be the same.

And it’s all going to be my fault.

Unless we go home, now.

The Admiral could tell I was fishing. I wanted to know if she knew what he saw of the future. I wanted to know if she’d ever moved on. She was me, after all.

She cut me off: “What happened in my timeline after it diverged from yours is irrelevant now.”

This is what I’d like to know: when in the future do I become such a bitch?

Concentrate on the flame.

Kathryn was exceedingly aware of the faint aroma of Vulcan spice tea in Tuvok’s quarters, as well as the different aspects of reality in her peripheral vision: to her left, Tuvok in his deep purple robe; to her right, some rare Vulcan orchids in the viewport, and the unmoving stars beyond it.

A scientist can’t live on factual data alone; she needs creativity to interpret it, her father had told her. In her innermost life, however, Kathryn was suffering from not enough factual data and too much creative speculation.

Does the Admiral still meditate?

Can she meditate without thinking about what she did to Tuvok?

Kathryn’s eyes were tired. Tired from reading LCARS interfaces on PADDS, on consoles, on screens, every day, all day, into the night, for years now. So it was often difficult to focus on the flame, but Kathryn sometimes got around that by taking in the halo around the flame, noting the way it pulsed in rhythm with the flame’s movements, reminding her of the way the warp core pulsed as it moved through its similar, though much more complex, processes of combustion.

I’m not going to find my way through any of this tonight.

Just breathe.

Concentrate on the flame.

Chapter Text

The sunlight reflecting off the water would surely have burned Kathryn’s retinas if not for the sunglasses Chakotay produced at the exact moment she wished for them.

He’d asked if she had the afternoon free, and promised her great coffee somewhere she’d been before. They’d transported to a Los Angeles harbor and boarded a small sloop, not unlike the one they’d sailed on the holodeck version of Lake George. It was unclear to her what familiar place they might reach in a simple sailboat off the Southern California coast, but she decided not to worry about it. It was such a beautiful day it didn’t matter if she solved the puzzle or not.

Chakotay handled the sails well enough that she had little to do but pull or push the tiller from time to time. The generous breeze took the edge off the heat, but all the same they’d removed their jackets and reattached their communicators to their short-sleeved turtlenecks. In their Starfleet uniforms, they looked a little like they were playing hooky, but she didn’t care.

Their debriefings were coming to a close. Most of the crewmembers had decided to stay in Starfleet and were waiting for their next assignments, while the others were waiting for long-range transports that would reunite them with their families. She and Chakotay had worked well together through the transition, not necessarily any better than usual, but certainly not any worse. Now it seemed he wanted to revisit their friendship. For Kathryn, this was a difficult task, ever since his liaison with Seven revealed to her that she was no longer an objection of his affection. But she valued their friendship, so she went along with him, hoping her feelings would smooth out eventually.

He’d brought a thermos of outstanding coffee from the Night Owl, her favorite study spot in San Francisco. The first sip transported her back to those halcyon days. The second got more neurons firing, and it dawned on her why they were there.

“This used to be Venice Beach.”

His dimples were her reward. “I knew it wouldn’t take you long.”

About a week after they’d arrived home, she’d learned from B’Elanna that Chakotay and Seven had parted ways. For weeks afterward, Chakotay had been unable to meet Kathryn’s eyes, as if he were ashamed of himself, as if he’d let her down. At other times, he seemed angry, as though she had humiliated him. It was very strange; she’d treated them both the same as always every step of the way, and never discussed it with either of them. Then Seven had informed her that she was joining the Rangers of all things. That news did truly disappoint her, but she couldn’t be angry with Seven, who’d never been fully welcomed by the paranoid, wartime-traumatized Starfleet they’d come home to.

Kathryn noticed the freckles forming on her arms, and noticed Chakotay noticing them, too. She admired his physique in his sailing whites; he was taking to the gym most days and it was showing. “When was the last time we were together in the sunlight? In real sunlight, not on the Holodeck?”

“I don’t know. Some shore leave a while back?”

Her thoughts drifted to the sun dappling the leafy riverbanks on New Earth, but she kept those images to herself. “It’s amazing.”

“It must be the Vitamin D.”  

“Must be.” She smiled at his joke; the Doctor always insisted they all go on shore leave for the health benefits.

Chakotay turned his head to look at her as he pulled a sail taut, the hurt in his voice palpable as he spoke. “Kathryn, why did you set me up with Seven? No one thought it would work. I was skeptical.”

She tilted her head just so, just like Tuvok did – could still do, now that they’d gotten home in time to cure his illness – whenever anyone said anything illogical. “Why do you think I set you up with her?”

“You kept sending us on away missions together. You insisted that she report to me first, like all department heads, instead of going directly to you, as she had always done. And you stopped having dinner with me, stopped talking to me about anything not related to the ship.”

Kathryn sighed. Did she indeed set them up, unconsciously? “Chakotay, I can’t say that was my explicit intention. When I learned you were together, I wanted you to be happy.”

“It seems ridiculous now.”

“It was serious in the Admiral’s timeline.”

They were silent for a long moment after that.

With the sun warming her skin, Kathryn found her courage. “Why did you kiss me that night, after you burned out the deflector dish?”

Chakotay gave her a slow smile. “I’d met a younger you, on a Voyager that was still in the Alpha Quadrant, just before you entered the Badlands. I could tell she was attracted to me, even though she was engaged. We had to work together to restore the timeline, and in the process, I came to enjoy the challenge of bringing her around to trusting me. But I missed you. I missed our deep complicity, honed over all our years together and all our Delta Quadrant trials. I was so relieved to be home, with you, and to look forward to a possible future together with you. I couldn’t help it. I wanted to feel closer to you in that moment.”

Kathryn’s heart leapt. He’d still been hoping for a future with her that night. But there were still so many unsolved mysteries. “So you didn’t see the future?”

“I didn’t say that.”

She lowered her voice. “Did you see the future?”

He sighed, resigned to giving up what he’d wanted to keep from her. “I caught a glimpse of a future in which we were both dead, but we averted it by restoring the timeline.”

That news gave her pause, but also filled her with gratitude. And more questions. “Why couldn’t you tell me any of this in the Delta Quadrant, and why are you telling me now?”

“The Department of Temporal Investigations just cleared it.”

“The present one or a future one?"

He gave her a slow smile. “You know I can’t answer that.”

“You know that by not answering you’re telling me it’s a future one.”

He laughed and waved to some kids in a speedboat.

Kathryn’s months of speculation seemed to be at an end. Chakotay had had no special purchase on the future, only a greater desire for her in the present, and instead of asking him where he’d stood, she had pushed him away. She took a deep breath to steady herself, and was suddenly all too aware of the discomforts of her present moment, and voiced them before she could hold back. “I miss the thrum of the warp core. I miss the starlight.”

“You can see starlight every night if you want.”

“Not if it’s cloudy.”

“You can take a shuttle.”

She giggled and rolled her eyes. “Why Venice Beach?”

“I wanted to take us as far back as we go.”

This time, Kathryn laughed heartily. “I suppose that’s a legitimate way to think about time. So, Venice Beach, but not Venice?”

“Soon.”

Chakotay took off his sunglasses, so Kathryn did, too. She felt blinded at first, and they both took a moment to adjust their naked eyes to the sunlight.

He looked into her eyes and spoke, almost in a whisper. “I don’t want us to drift apart. Our friendship is important to me. It was never just circumstantial.” He took a deep breath. “I want more, Kathryn. I want to be with you in every way you’ll let me. But if all we’re going to be is friends, I’m going to need to take some time.” The wind had died down so he moved to fully unfurl the main sail.

She waited patiently until he was done, then put a hand on his arm. “I want to be with you in every way, too.”

His whole body seemed to relax, and, under the full sunlight, he seemed radiant.

She took his hand in hers. “I feel terrible about making you wait.”

“You never made me wait. I wanted to. Even when I thought you were telling me to stop waiting.”

“And to be with Seven.”

He hung his head. “Yes. I feel like a fool.”

She comforted him with a fully freckled hand on his shoulder. “We were in an impossible situation. It might have been the right solution.” She put her arm through his. “It’s been a while since we talked openly about our feelings. Are we the same people we were?”

“How do you feel?”

“I’m still in shock. From coming home. From everything we’ve been through. From watching your relationship with Seven begin, and end. But my feelings for you haven’t changed. How do you feel?”

“Like I’m floating and want you to be my anchor, even though it’s not right to ask it of you.”

“We all feel like we’re floating. We’ll each anchor ourselves again, with time.”

They were suddenly very aware of the boat bobbing up and down in the almost-calm waters. Chakotay laced his arm around Kathryn’s waist and puller her close. She found that glow in his eyes again and met his lips in a long kiss.

When they finally came up for air, she whispered, “We spent so many years working toward this moment. I can’t imagine what to do next.”

He gave her another slow smile. “Let’s let the wind chart our course for now.”

She smiled back and pressed her body into his once again. Slowly, over the next few hours, under the unwavering sunlight, they shared all their hopes for the future, and more, as languorous waves pulled them back to shore.