A/N This is the third in my 'Pathways' inspired mini series wherein our favourite crew members meet faces from the past and chew over their time in the Delta Quadrant. The other two are 'A Man of Value' and 'The Real Sandrine's'. I may eventually put them all together when I get round to tidying up ^_^

Disclaimer: If I owned them, there would have been a very different ending...

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Chakotay looked up from his Vulcan tea to find the Ferengi grinning over the bar at him.

"I beg your pardon?" Chakotay couldn't help but smile back. Ferengi never looked particularly sincere but their smiles were contagious, despite the fact that you knew they were probably robbing you blind at the same time.

"It's an old Earth expression," Quark grinned, "Heard it the other day from some hot shot pilot from Voyager. I liked it. First chance I've had to use it, actually."

"Was this pilot mouthy, blonde, about so high?" he gestured vaguely.

"Sounds about right. Do you know him?"

"I've met him once or twice."

Quark laughed once, refilled Chakotay's mug and then disappeared to the opposite end of the bar. It was no surprise that the Ferengi had taken a liking to an expression involving money; he mused if a Ferengi did find a way of making money from thoughts, he'd probably have a statue put up in his memory.

The bar on Deep Space Nine hadn't changed in the eight years since Chakotay had last been there, a fact he found both comforting and odd. After everything that the station had been through since Voyager ended up in the Delta Quadrant, Quark's looked no different. He suspected that the whole of the rest of the station could have been destroyed by the Dominion and Quark would still be there with a selection of refreshments and his damned Ferengi smile.

From his seat at the end of the bar furthest from the door, Chakotay was half hidden in the shadows. The anonymity of being on the station and away from Earth was a relief. Since Voyager had returned three months before, he'd barely had a chance to think. The first month had involved fighting day and night, calling on every resource and sympathetic ear they could to get the Maquis members of the crew pardoned. Then there'd been two solid months of debriefings and meetings, defending themselves and their decisions to Starfleet, trying to convince them that Seven and Icheb weren't a threat, that the Doctor was as human as any other member of the crew. At Starfleet, he hadn't been able to escape a long line of people wanting to shake his hand and talk to him. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk but he couldn't stand the looks from people who were labeling him as a Maquis. Chakotay had never cared what people thought but the whispers had started to get to him. Out on the station, where the people had been battered by the Dominion War, less people cared about who he was and that suited him just fine. He could understand why Tom Paris had been out here. It was only his first afternoon on the station and Chakotay already felt more relaxed than he had done in weeks.

He absently swirled the remains of his Vulcan tea in the cup and considered replacing it with something stronger. A young Bajoran woman was sat a few seats away from him and he was carefully avoiding her eyes, having already made the mistake of nodding politely the first time they made eye contact. Chakotay had never been one to avoid a chance meeting with a woman, not before Voyager, but then things had changed. Everything had changed.

"You were never one to let a pretty girl down, Chakotay," someone whispered in his ear. He didn't look up but a lazy grin spread across his face as he downed the very last of his tea.

"I didn't realise you were there."

"Did you ever?"

"I could never miss you."

"Are you going to say hello or not?"

Chakotay slid from his seat and found himself looking down into Sveta's fierce, weathered face. She smiled her rare, beautiful smile, showing off perfect teeth.

"It's good to see you, Chakotay."

"You too, Sveta," he wrapped his arms around her, "It's really been too long."

For a moment they both reveled in the embrace; there were so many things Chakotay wanted to tell her, to ask her, but he just needed to hold her for a minute and make sure she was really there.

"Can I get you a drink?" he asked when they eventually parted.

"You know I don't drink, Chakotay."

"I know, but Quark does a very nice Vulcan blend of tea."

"Vulcan tea?" she wrinkled her nose, "You've changed, Chakotay."

"My tastes are more refined."

"Is this because of that damned Vulcan you took onboard?"

"Tuvok? Yes, I suppose," he chuckled, picking up a tray with two cups and following Sveta over to an empty table, "He's not a damned Vulcan. He's a good man."

"I bet you weren't saying that when you found out he was Starfleet."

"No, I wasn't," he admitted, "But seven years is a long time to hold a grudge. I didn't have the time."

Sveta reached out and took a cautious sip of the tea, her eyebrows rising in surprise, "I've had worse. It'll do. Shall we invite the Bajoran to join us?"

"No," Chakotay laughed at the false innocent expression on her face, "I don't think Seven would like that very much."

"Oh yes, the elusive Seven of Nine. Is she joining us later?"

"No," he shook his head, suddenly hugely interested in his hands, "She couldn't come with me."

When he looked up, Sveta's sharp eyes were narrowed as she took another sip of her tea. Chakotay felt a prickly heat spreading up his neck and face as she continued to stare at him; it was something she'd always managed to do to him when she looked like that and he knew that he wouldn't escape an interrogation. The only other person who ever had such an effect on him was Kathryn. The tiny shudder was involuntary as Kathryn smiled in his memory. Sveta didn't miss it, he knew, but was surprised when she began to talk about something entirely different.

"Have you been to the memorial site yet?"

"No. I haven't had a chance to get out there."

"It's pathetic," she spat.

"What is?" he looked up, shocked that she could think that he had avoided the memorial on purpose.

"The so called memorial. It just says on that on that day the Cardassians slaughtered three hundred Federation men, women and children in cold blood. It says nothing about the Maquis, nothing about what we were working for, nothing about the fact that the murder on that moon was the end for the Maquis and everything we fought to achieve. Nothing about the bastard who sold us out. It's a disgrace, Chakotay."

"I'll go see it soon," he promised. Incensed as he was by what Sveta had said, Chakotay couldn't help but notice her use of 'we' and 'us', words that meant she still saw him as a Maquis. Some of the survivors he'd met on Earth had been more than dismissive of the Maquis from Voyager, as though it was their fault that they disappeared and escaped the slaughter. It was good to know that Sveta, the only person he really cared about, still considered him part of the group.

"I can't believe that after everything that happened, even after the Federation acknowledged that we were right about the Cardassians, they still can't give those people the respect they deserve."

"Perhaps we could do something about it," he reached out and took her hand, "We could get our own memorial commissioned, unite all the old Maquis and get it out there. That way, the story from our point of view would never die."

"I've thought about it, Chakotay, but I don't see how it would work. The Federation has been surprisingly lenient with most of the old Maquis but if we start upsetting the balance I don't know what they would do. We have to protect the people we have left. It's not worth the risk."

They both sat for a minute in silence. Sveta was right about the Federation, of course. Even the Maquis on Voyager had been treated like criminals for a while, despite the fact that they were obviously not involved with the later activities of the Maquis and had served seven generally blemish free years on a Starfleet ship. It was an uneasy reconciliation at best for all involved and one that the ex-Maquis knew would be far more likely to backfire on them than it would on the Federation.

"Anyway," Sveta smiled weakly, "I want to talk about you. I've spent enough time angry at the Federation to last me a lifetime. How is everything?"

"I'm fine," he smiled, wondering if she could tell that he was lying, "Starfleet have offered me a position at the Academy, if you can believe that. And things are good with Seven. It's early days and we're taking things slowly but they look good."

"That's nice," she smiled, her teeth showing slightly too much, "Now tell me the truth."

"What do you mean?"

"It amazes me that you think you can lie to me. Chakotay."

"Well," he spoke carefully, "I'm not sure about the position at the Academy. I've been thinking about it a lot and I can't decide if-"

"That's not what I mean and you know it," she growled, pushing the table away and stalking towards the bar. Chakotay watched as Quark tried to make a joke and was rebuked by a glare and a fierce word. He raised his eyebrows behind Sveta's back and Chakotay shrugged apologetically. Sveta slammed two glasses down on the table.

"What's this?"

"Bajoran recipe. It's a bit stronger than that Vulcan rubbish."

"Sveta, I don't know what you want me to tell you."

"You're not happy with the Borg."

He bristled, "She's not Borg, she's human. Don't call her that."

"But you don't deny that you're not happy with her."

"How the hell do you know?" he bit back.

"Because, Chakotay, I know you. Let me guess. She's logical. She's calculating. She's cold."

"She's not cold," he retorted, listening to himself with contempt, "She's beautiful, she's intelligent and she's kind."

"Is she passionate?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Is she passionate?" Sveta asked, leaning over the table, a dangerous glint in her eyes, "Does she make you feel like you've got a fever every time she touches you? Does she match you every step of the way, Chakotay?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know."

He felt the prickly heat come rushing back as he realised that he did know what she talking about. He shook his head, unable to speak or even to meet her burning gaze. She'd won and they both knew it.

"Then she's not right for you," she said simply, blowing gently on the Bajoran drink, "You once told me that a woman who was as passionate as you was the woman for you. It was when I was trying to warn you off Seska and you carried on like the bull headed idiot you can be sometimes. Remember?"

"Yes."

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable, Chakotay. I'm sorry."

"No, you're right. I think Seven knows it's not working as well. Neither of us wants to admit it."

"You just did."

"I guess so."

Sveta pulled a deck of cards from her large overcoat pocket, "Want to play? It'll take my mind off torturing you for a while."

He smiled wryly, "How can I refuse?"

She dealt the cards as quickly as he had ever seen Tom Paris do it. They played a few games of an old game she had recently discovered called blackjack, and then settled down to an intense game of poker.

"Was there ever anyone else out there, Chakotay?"

Her remark was light and she was too busy dealing the cards to look at him but the undertones were clear.

"One or two."

"Who was she?"

"It doesn't matter now. She's miles away."

"Delta Quadrant miles away or Earth miles away?"

"Earth," he admitted. There was no point lying. She probably already knew and was playing games with him.

"You can tell me, Chakotay. It helps to talk."

"It doesn't matter, Sveta. She's not interested in me."

"So you still like her?"

"Yes," he sighed.

"I thought there was something different about you," she said matter of factly, "You're in love." It wasn't a guess. It was a statement.

"Yes."

"Is that all you can say? Who is she?"

"Kathryn."

Her silence threw him slightly and he looked up sharply. Sveta, for once, was speechless. He laughed, despite everything.

"I never thought I'd see the day you didn't have something to say."

"Kathryn, as in the captain?" she spluttered.

His nod was contemplative, as though he'd never really confirmed it to himself before.

"I knew you liked strong women, Chakotay, but...well, I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything. There's nothing I can do about it."

"Did anything happen out there?"

"No. We got close once but that was almost six years ago."

"Unrequited love," she breathed slowly through her nose, laying down a full house to beat his two pairs and scooping up the cards to start again, "Is there anything more pathetic?"

And then they were both laughing until tears ran down their faces. She dropped the cards on the table and gripped his hands, hardly aware that people on the tables nearby were watching them.

"I'm sorry, Chakotay," she chuckled, "It's not funny really."

"No," he wiped his eyes, "But you're right. It is pathetic."

"Tell me about her."

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything. What do you love about her?"

"She's beautiful, intelligent, funny, strong, braver than I'll ever be, so caring, passionate-"

"Say no more."

"It just feels like-" he couldn't help but carry on talking, "-like we fit. She's perfect, Sveta. Absolutely perfect."

"Tell her, Chakotay."

"She knows. At least I think she does."

"Then what the hell is the problem, you idiot?"

"I blew it. I was flattered when Seven started to pay me some attention and I accepted it."

"Why?"

"I was lonely."

"Seven years is a long time to be alone," she nodded, "I have to get going, Chakotay. My transport leaves in ten minutes. Come see me off?"

"Of course."

They walked quickly through the station, Sveta holding his arm just like she always used to.

"Did you ever tell anyone else?"

"No."

"Not even lovely Michael?"

Chakotay snorted. Sveta had made no secret of the fact that if Michael Ayala had been a few years older and unmarried, she'd have whisked him away the moment she laid eyes on him.

"Not even Michael."

"Shame. Give him my regards."

They reached the transport and watched the other passengers boarding. Eventually when Sveta had to go, she turned to him and hugged him even more tightly than before.

"I'll see you soon, Chakotay. I promise."

"Yes," he whispered.

"Please tell her, Chakotay," she smiled up at him, one hand on his cheek, "I can't bear to see you so sad."

"I will."

She kissed his cheek and disappeared into the transport. He wondered vaguely, as the doors slid shut, why she hadn't pulled him up on the final lie.