Future Imperfect
by Bratling
Disclaimer: If you think these characters belong to me, you're sadly mistaken. I borrowed them, hugged them, squeezed them, called them George, and then gave them back like a good girl. Star Trek and all it's permutations belong to the estate of Gene Roddenberry, Paramount, and CBS.
Author's Note: Welcome to yet another Endshame fix. A dark one. This has been obsessing me for weeks now, and until I flipped the point of view, it wasn't going anywhere. Thank you, purpledog, Cheile, and Sarah for helping me hash this out, because I had no clue how it fit or where it went. My thanks, too, to my betas, Sarah, Miacooper, TnJAGAz, and Wendy. Double, triple warning for darkness, mentioned character death, and the original unaltered timeline that the old Admiral Janeway came from. Yeah, it's a take on possible canon of the trip home without time travel and the Borg. Please note, the proper term for a bathroom on a ship is the "head".
"I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge. That myth is more potent than history. That dreams are more powerful than facts. That hope always triumphs over experience. That laughter is the only cure for grief. And I believe that love is stronger than death. "
-Robert Fulghum
Chakotay finished the report he was working on and sat back with a sigh. Chances were the attempt to get home wouldn't work, just like the others had failed. But this time, they had two Kathryn Janeways on their side. He'd learned long ago that betting against her was a losing proposition. Still, he was a lucky man; Seven wanted him, and he was fairly sure that if they knew, at least half the ship would envy him. He was also pretty sure it wouldn't last, but it was fascinating to see her grow and develop into a human being.
The door chime interrupted his thoughts. "Come in," he called as he finally set the PADD down.
Admiral Janeway walked in. "I have something for you," she said quietly.
Automatically, he held out his hand and she placed a data chip in it, closing his hand around it. "What is this?"
"When our plan succeeds, I want you to grant an old woman a last request and listen to it." she drew in a deep breath. "Hell, listen to it if something goes wrong! If I'm right about what he put on it, listen to it especially if something goes wrong tomorrow."
He opened his hand and stared at the chip. "He?"
"My Chakotay," she answered softly, "we planned this together, or at least we started to; he died right after we got home."
"I don't know if I should..." he began.
"Screw the Temporal Prime Directive. Your little dalliance with Seven cost us dearly! Just listen to what he sent you, and think of it as a letter from yourself!"
His head shot up as she mentioned Seven.
"I was there, remember?" she snapped. "I am who your Kathryn will become without you! Listen to what your future self has to tell you, get your head out of your ass and do something when you're no longer in the same chain of command!" Without another word, she turned and marched out.
Shocked, Chakotay simply stared at the chip in his hand for a few minutes. Part of him wanted to run after her and demand she tell him if Kathryn actually loved him, but with effort, he stopped himself. Carefully he clasped his hand around it, stood and crossed into his bedroom to place it in a carved wooden box on his bureau. It would keep until after their attempt to get home. He simply couldn't afford to be distracted when the whole crew was counting on the command team to be on top of their game. After the attempt, he would listen to it. It was only a day after all. Delaying twenty-four hours wouldn't make that much of a difference... he hoped.
Chakotay stared at the screen in front of him as he waited for his replacement. 'Mister Chakotay,' it sounded so... impersonal. She was distancing herself from the crew-from him. He wondered if the Admiral had told her what Kathryn had refused to tell him. He drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes. He heard the lift hiss open and Baytart stepped out. He stood. "Take the conn, Ensign," he said quietly. "I'll be in the ready room."
Tuvok gave him a brief nod as he prepared to enter the spider queen's lair. Quickly, he hit the chime. "Enter." He didn't really even listen to the command. Instead, he simply went inside. Kathryn was sitting at her desk staring sightlessly at the monitor. "Kathryn," his soft voice got her attention.
There was something unreadable in her eyes. "I can't believe it," she said quietly. "I've been working towards this for six months, and Hayes just confirmed it. The outstanding warrants against the Maquis have been dismissed and the charges dropped. They've ratified field commissions-including Tom's- and are extending the offer for more training and for all of our people to stay 'Fleet."
He studied her face. "It's not all good news, is it?"
She shook her head. "They're planning on court martialing the Equinox survivors. Word is that they can't allow them to get away with just a slap on the wrist. They're going to make an example of them, I think."
He reached out for her hand, and was unsurprised when she jerked back. He'd been withdrawing from her for a while now, and there was a lot of work to do to rebuild their friendship. "Realistically, we knew there was probably a jail sentence waiting for them," he said neutrally.
"I just hoped-"
"I know you, Kathryn, and you did your best. There's something else, isn't there?"
She sighed and swung her chair around so she could look at the stars. "There have been some scandals lately," she admitted. "They've tightened the fraternization policies. If we'd changed the... parameters of our relationship the way both of us have wanted to at one time or another, we'd be facing prosecution right now."
He hesitated, and the words were dragged from him almost against his will. "Do you still want to change our... parameters?"
She gave him a crooked smile. "Ask me again when we're out of the same chain of command and I'll have an answer for you."
It took him a few minutes to process what she'd said. After all, he'd spent most of his life in Starfleet and he knew the regs just as well as she did. "It's going to be a witch hunt, isn't it?" he asked.
Her smile turned grim. "It already is. They're actively looking for officers who have overstepped the bounds. I've got Harry on deleting any mention of the betting pools and erasing any mention of us in a romantic sense from the database. If we'd gone any further, I'd be going to jail right along with the Equinox survivors. Even now it's still a possibility."
"If what we've been led to believe is true, they need you; they need us. I don't think there's anything to worry about, Kathryn." He reached for her hand again and this time she didn't pull away.
"I hope so, Chakotay," her expression was sober, but hope had returned to her face. "I really hope so."
"I'll arrange for the Equinox survivors to meet you here, and I'll call a meeting of my former crew." He squeezed her hand, dropped it, and then came to attention.
"Dismissed," she said, with the barest hint of a smile.
He nodded, once, and left the room. The next few days would be busy with all the post-mission paperwork. And with their having been gone for seven years, it would be much more onerous than usual. And he still had to find time to look at that data chip.
Chakotay dropped into a chair in his quarters and buried his face in his hands. The meeting with the former Maquis had gone well, and he'd spent the rest of the day getting things in order for their arrival at McKinley Station. He and Kathryn had even managed to get through a chunk of crew evaluations and recommendations. He'd had to cancel on Seven because there was just so much to accomplish on the short trip home. To say she'd been displeased was an understatement; she'd been livid. Her reaction to something so small was making him rethink his being involved with her. Truthfully, they didn't have much in common and conversation between the two of them wasn't exactly scintillating. It wasn't just the age gap, it was the experience gap.
He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. It was something to think about, anyway, and wasn't like they had much of a relationship. Their "relationship" consisted of a few dates and a grand total of two kisses. Seven had instigated everything, and he just couldn't see it ever getting serious. They wanted different things; they were just too different themselves. However, after so many years of what he had believed to be unrequited love, it had been pleasant to be pursued.
They were home now and that very fact opened a new range of possibilities. And damned if he didn't want to explore them... with Kathryn, not Seven. Kathryn had all but come out and promised him a future together. Breaking up with Seven was now at the top of his to-do list. He had one last task before he could turn in... go through the files on the data chip. He stood and crossed the room to the replicator. He needed caffeine and lots of it to get through the next little while. "Coffee, black, hot."
He took the beverage and put it on his desk before retrieving the data chip from his bedroom. He returned to his desk, and inserted the chip.
An image of himself appeared on the screen. He didn't look good. His skin was sallow, his eyes sunken, and he was far, far too thin. "Hello, Chakotay. If you're getting this, Kathryn succeeded and hopefully convinced her younger self to take the Borg shortcut home. We started planning once it became apparent that the doctors could do nothing for me. We've been home for less than a month, and I'm dying," he stopped to cough and blood stained his mouth. "This message," he said in a raspy voice, "will hopefully stop you from making the biggest mistake we ever made; one that poisoned everything good in our life for years to come. Ignore the damn Temporal Prime Directive, take the information I'm giving you and make better damn choices."
He drew in a deep, wheezing breath, "I know you're thinking that with the current crackdown on fraternization, what I just said makes no sense. They made her work for it, but Kathryn convinced them we'd need replacement crew and the only way to do that was for people to start getting married." The older version of himself had another coughing fit, this time into a large white handkerchief. "Kathryn never stopped loving us, you know. It was my guilt and shame that kept us apart in later years. Six months from your time, she successfully convinced Starfleet Command to rewrite and damn near abolish the fraternization regs on Voyager, but by then it was too late. Don't miss your chance, Chakotay. Don't let it be too late, again."
The image of the older, sick him winked out and he stopped the playback. What in hell happened that kept him apart from Kathryn? Guilt? Shame? Even now a change in policy would have him beating down her door. He loved her, damn it! He had for years! Hell, he was fairly sure he'd started falling for her the first day on the bridge when she'd stopped him from killing Tom Paris. He drew in a deep breath, and restarted the playback. If he'd had any doubts if it had really been him, all of them fell away when the first recording was a log he'd made only weeks before. As he listened, he fell into a light trance, allowing himself to see what had happened from his own perspective.
He lived the anguish his other self felt when after a few nights together, Seven had claimed to be pregnant, so he had married her. Anguish because it wasn't Seven he wanted to be marrying at all, and then further anguish when he found out she'd been lying to him-that pregnancy for her was an impossibility because of irreparable damage from being assimilated at such a young age. It seemed that the Borg found natural reproductive cycles to be irrelevant and took steps to neutralize what they saw as a problem. He listened to a catalog of fights and disagreements, make up sex where Seven was barely a participant, and then, as if her tricking him weren't bad enough, he found out something even worse.
It took Chakotay six months after Kathryn had moved out of her quarters to realize she was no longer living there. He'd been caught up in his new marriage to Seven of Nine, desperately trying to make it work, and to be honest, things with Kathryn hadn't been the same since he'd told her about the relationship. She'd withdrawn and insisted on keeping things purely professional. The working dinners had stopped and they never spent off-duty time together anymore. Recently, though, he'd started noticing how... triumphant Seven seemed whenever Kathryn left the room they happened to be in. But even those glimpses were rare. Usually, he only saw her on the bridge or for conferences in her ready room, which even for personnel issues, were becoming more and more infrequent. It was almost as if she was avoiding him. With Tuvok's illness, he was worried about her. She'd always had a tendency to isolate herself, and with her no longer confiding in him and Tuvok locked in his quarters, he feared it might soon be like it was in the void years before. Even more than that, he... missed her.
Seven was not a good conversationalist, and they seemed to spend more time fighting than anything else. He was coming to the conclusion that marrying her had been a huge mistake. He'd only done it because she'd sworn she was pregnant and he would not allow a child of his to grow up without a father. He needed his friend at the time, and he needed her now. Badly. And it was with that in mind that he set off to find out where she was. He could have asked the computer, but it couldn't tell him where she was now living. She had beta shift so it was a good time to look. He knew she wouldn't be sleeping in the ready room because it was too public.
It was available for whoever was in command at the time. Her private dining room had been turned into the galley the first week in the Delta Quadrant. Her seldom-used private office was a slight possibility, but it was in a heavily trafficked area, and she wouldn't want the crew to know that something was amiss. She would see taking over unused crew quarters as taking something from the crew. He sighed heavily and started towards her private office. His override code would probably still work, and he might find a few clues. If there were no signs of habitation, he'd need to check her quarters to see if there were any hint of where she'd gone. He needed to know why and where she was living. He needed his friend back.
He walked briskly to her office and keyed in his code. Slipping inside, he looked around. Somehow, it had an air of disuse about it. It wasn't dusty or dirty by any means; it just looked desolate. He knew she didn't spend much time there, but it looked as if she hadn't spent any. There were virtually no personal touches to it; the whole room was practically Starfleet-issued drab gray. He carefully checked the storage areas for any clue as to where she was staying, but it didn't get him anywhere. There was nothing to say where she was living at all.
He drew in a deep breath. Kathryn had been avoiding him for months, so outright asking her was out. Even though she was no longer living in her quarters, it felt like an invasion of privacy to search them, but he felt like he he was running out of options. It wasn't as if he could follow her and while he was a great tracker, people simply didn't leave a trail on the way to their quarters on a starship.
With a heavy heart and a pressing sense of guilt, he left the office and headed towards the captain's unoccupied quarters. Quietly, he let himself in and started looking. Like her private office, they, too, had an air of disuse. Some of her books were gone as well as a few of her personal knicknacks. Other than that, nothing was out of place in her living area. The desk had been cleared, but it was as orderly as ever. Quickly he strode to the bedroom and, after a moment of hesitation, entered. The closet and drawers were empty and a quick peek into the head confirmed her toiletries were also gone. The only place he had yet to look into was the nightstand. He opened the drawer and found an open book that was smeared with ink and what looked like tear stains. He drew in a deep breath and started to read.
"I can't deal with this anymore. When Chakotay moved on, I figured it was the universe dumping on me again. I've never been allowed personal happiness before, so why should I be allowed to have it now? I'm just glad I wasn't there to watch when the announcement was made that Starfleet Command finally allowed the fraternization regs to be suspended. The only condition was there would be no coercion allowed. I worked hard for that. It took me months of fighting for it for them to agree. I was going to tell him on shore leave before I announced it to the crew... but he took shore leave with Seven. A few months after that (and some sleepless nights for me because I can hear what they're doing next door) they asked me to marry them. I've had enough of listening to them fighting and having sex. I will admit he was discreet until after I officially knew. I should have known before-he'd withdrawn from me. Too many rain checks on meals we used to share and things we used to do together. And Seven, well, I thinks she knows how sound carries through the bulkhead. The smirk on her face the first time they did it in his quarters when she looked at me was proof enough. Depression is my ever present companion these days. As long as I'm busy, I'm okay. But sleep is illusive because of the noise from next door, and every time I hear them, it rubs salt in wounds that have not healed.
"By my own choice, the working dinners stopped before his marriage. I wanted to give him space to make his relationship work. I love him enough for that. I love her enough for that. I still wonder-of all the women on the ship, why Seven? Why the girl I practically adopted as my own daughter? The only one I will ever have? My only future is unending, crushing responsibility. Even if we found a shortcut home tomorrow, the only man I can see as my children's father is taken and I will never compromise my ethics by being the other woman, even if he were willing. I doubt he is. He has made no objections to the distance between us, and our professional relationship is hanging on by a thread. By the time we get home, my mother will probably be gone. Let's face it, Voyager is all I have. I'm well on my way to being what I always feared-one whose entire life is Starfleet, with nobody to love and nobody to love them. What is, is, and I have to learn to live with it.
"I'm just so damned tired. I need a change. I need to not hear them on off hours - to not have it rubbed into my face. Three weeks ago, I started moving my things to my yacht a little at a time. It has everything I need. Well, there isn't a bathtub, but I can live without it in exchange for some peace. It has a sonic shower in the head, a replicator, computer access, life support and a bed. What else do I truly need? I've lived with less, after all. It's more cramped than these quarters, but I'll make do. As long as I show up for duty shifts on time, I'm confident that no one will even notice I've moved.
"Chakotay used to be the only one who cared about Kathryn, anyway, and well, he doesn't anymore. By my reckoning, he stopped caring a few months after Quarra. It was sudden, too. One day, he's my best friend and the love of my life and I couldn't imagine a day without him. The next day, he was just... gone. If it were only the loneliness, I could deal with it. But it isn't. It's the dragging weight of endless responsibility. It's the knowledge that people only care for what I can give them.
"Perhaps my yacht-the only truly private place I have left-will give me the space I need to find a measure of peace."
The entry ended with a large tearstain. Chakotay swallowed, hard against the large lump in his throat. He'd been a terrible friend. If she'd felt like this six months ago, how did she feel now after six more months of isolation? Quietly, he put the journal back where it came from. At least he knew where to find her now. It wasn't just he'd been a bad friend; he'd been a terrible first officer as well. He hadn't been doing half the things he used to do and she'd just picked up the slack from him without a word of complaint. It didn't help that Tuvok had been diagnosed with a degenerative disorder that had worsened faster than expected, and he was now confined to quarters for his own protection. She'd been truly alone and it was partially his fault. He'd screwed up, and now it was up to him to come up with a plan or three of how to fix things between himself and his best friend.
Using every bit of skill he had acquired over his lifetime, Chakotay walked, soft footed to the door, glancing back into the bedroom, which was lit only by the dim lights of Seven's alcove. Soundlessly, he left the room and made his way to the airlock that led to the Captain's yacht. He got a few strange looks for how he was dressed since he wasn't in uniform, but it was late enough into the ship's "night" that the corridors were sparsely populated. Quickly he tapped her access code into the door panel and slipped inside.
There wasn't much to it. Two bunks with privacy curtains took up the back wall, and he could see a couple of doors nearby with a replicator unit built into the bulkhead on the other side. A tiny table was folded out with the attached stool pushed under it. Consoles took up the front of the space, and neatly tucked in various places were the missing personal effects from Kathryn's quarters. He didn't think he'd ever been in there-it had been deemed too small to use as a shuttle and just not practical to use in the Delta Quadrant. The engines had been stripped for parts years earlier but it had otherwise been left alone.
Noise came from one of the doors and Kathryn walked out, wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe. She jumped, startled at his appearance. "Chakotay, I- wasn't expecting company."
Without thinking, Chakotay automatically moved to parade rest. "I know you weren't, Kathryn," uttering her name with gentle emphasis.
She raised an eyebrow, opened the second door, and rummaged inside. "That's a name I haven't heard in at least a year," she said neutrally.
"Because outside of work, we haven't been talking," he said bluntly. "Why is that?"
She emerged from what must be a closet with a soft-looking bundle. "You know why," she said simply as she crossed the tiny room and dropped the bundle on the bed. "Turn around, please."
When he didn't move, she raised an eyebrow. "Do I have to make it an order, Chakotay?"
He sighed and turned around. "I've seen you in less before," he remarked.
"That was a long time ago." The room was quiet except for the soft rustle of fabric. "I'm decent. You can turn around now, and then you can leave before you learn things you'd rather not know."
He turned around to find her laying out a large piece of plastic.
"What do you mean?" he demanded. She was dressed in a loose pair of shorts and a loose tank top. Both were at least two sizes too big and had rust-colored stains on them. He wasn't sure he wanted to know... but he had to.
"At first, I was trying to give you and Seven space... and after that I no longer had a choice." She sat down on the plastic. "You'd better leave, Chakotay. What happens next isn't pretty."
"Kathryn, you have to tell me what this is about," he demanded again. "I admit it; I've been a bad friend. What do you mean?"
She laughed bitterly. "Stay a few more minutes and you'll find out. The time is almost up anyway."
She stood, and hurried back to the closet, emerging seconds later with small devices in her hands. She sat back down on the plastic, arranging them next to her. "They're programmed to wait until I'm off duty. Even on duty, five minutes is the most time I'm allowed."
"Five minutes? Kathryn, what the hell are you talking about?" He was both puzzled and confused and he wasn't sure he wanted to know why she was sitting on plastic, what the stains were on her clothing, or what the devices next to her were.
Kathryn just seemed... resigned, almost fatalistic. "Telling is supposed to make it worse," she said quietly. "Telling will also lead to you being hurt. I prefer you and your personality to remain how you are." She gasped and started breathing deeply as her right leg suddenly moved into an unnatural angle. Implants began to emerge from her skin, splattering blood around her. As soon as they emerged, they disappeared, leaving bleeding wounds behind.
She bit her lip, and he could see a bit of blood coming from it. Horrified, he started to slap his commbadge to call for help. "Won't do any good," she said as she shakily reached for a device. She turned it on, and he finally recognized it as a deep tissue regenerator. She clumsily ran it over the worst wounds, holding it in place until only the last few layers remained before switching to a regular regenerator and using it to finish the job.
"Calling for help?" He leaned down to help her, but she pushed his hands away.
"I don't want to find out what happens if you touch me," she snapped as she pulled her leg into alignment and began running an osteoregenerator over it.
"Seven did this," he murmured. "And threatened you with me if you told on her."
Kathryn inclined her head and kept working on her own leg. "The doctor won't notice any of this, and I'm locked out of his program with Borg encryption codes. There's a reason why I don't leave the ship anymore." She put down the osteoregenerator, then picked up the regenerator and healed her lip. "We're lucky we've been in peaceful space the past six months," she said softly.
"So that's how long this has been going on?" He asked, bile risking in his throat. He'd already been thinking that getting involved with Seven had been a mistake, but this absolutely proved it. Damnit, she'd probably been torturing Kathryn for months and none of them had noticed!
Kathryn grabbed a medical tricorder and ran it over her leg. "She came to me after you made your relationship public and warned me off." She shook her head. "We hadn't spent time together outside of work for months, so I shrugged it off. " She drew in a shaky breath. "Remember when the Maetrons attacked right after you got married?"
He nodded silently. "You were injured." he murmured.
"The first incident was after that. She came to my quarters that night to explain the rules." Pain laced her voice as she finished scanning. "Would you please get me an analgesic out of the head?"
He ducked through the door and emerged with a few hyposprays a few seconds later. "I don't know which one.."
She nodded towards the plastic. "Just lay them down." He obeyed and she picked one up and injected herself.
"Are these the missing drugs the doctor has been complaining about?" he asked.
"An analgesic and an antidepressant, yes," she said softly. "I went with what he's given me in the past. I went to him after it happened the first time and not only could he find absolutely nothing wrong, but I was punished afterwards for telling. Seven said she fixed it so that he'll never find any evidence. If I come in alone, he won't even notice the injuries."
"And then she locked you out?" He tried to keep his voice neutral as anger started to set in. He wanted to hit someone. Preferably a Borg someone. Perhaps wrap his hands around her pretty little neck and squeeze.
"I tried to fix it," she said softly. "I couldn't get into his program. She didn't lie about that."
"We'll fix this, Kathryn." He promised. "I'm going to make sure this stops."
She looked up at him, pain in her blue eyes. "Be careful, Chakotay; make sure she hasn't injected you as well. I should have listened to you to start with; she's a scorpion in disguise."
"I will," he promised before he turned to head to the door. "And Kathryn? Her decisions aren't your responsibility. She's not Borg any longer and you can't control her choices anymore than I controlled Suder's or Seska's." Quickly he left and headed towards Sickbay. He couldn't recall Seven injecting him with anything, but he had to find out. He'd slept both with her and in her presence and it was possible she'd dosed him with nanoprobes without his knowledge. Somehow, they'd fix this. He just didn't know how.
Chakotay's first instinct was to strangle Seven. Instead, he'd gotten a checkup from the EMH, and then called Harry off the bridge to run a full diagnostic of the program. In succinct terms, he'd ordered him to check for tampering aimed at the Captain and gave him permission to enlist Tom's and B'Elanna's help should he need it. It occurred to him that Seven could have also programmed the Doc to ignore nanoprobes, so he was planning on getting checked again after his programming was restored. He knew it was slightly paranoid, but with what Seven had been getting away with, he felt a little paranoia was justified.
Quickly, Chakotay hurried to his office and sat down in front of his terminal. He fired off messages to Ayala, who had replaced Tuvok as Chief of Security, and B'Elanna. Both contained some keywords from their Maquis days that Seven wasn't aware of. It was part of a code and read correctly, it was practically a shout of, "Red alert, battle stations".
It was late, and they still had approximately half of Gamma shift left. The particular code he had entered would wake both Ayala and B'Elanna, so he settled in to wait. Fifteen minutes later, a bleary-eyed B'Elanna stumbled in, followed by Ayala. "We have a problem," he said without further preamble.
"What is it, Chakotay?" B'Elanna asked, stifling a yawn. Ayala didn't say anything; he just came to attention in front of the desk.
"Have either of you noticed a change in the Captain in the last six months?" Chakotay asked.
"She's been isolating herself more," Ayala said quietly. "We all figured it was because you got involved with Seven."
"It got worse after you married her," B'Elanna said with a half-hearted glare. "We barely see her off-duty anymore. I mean, she still comes by to spend time with Miral, which you haven't been doing, but otherwise it's as if she's faded into the bulkheads."
Chakotay stood and began to pace restlessly. "There's a reason for that, and it isn't good. Seven injected her with nanoprobes about six months back with the express purpose of torturing the Captain if she spent any time in my presence alone. I'd divorce Seven now if it didn't tip our hand that we know. Seven reprogrammed the doctor to not notice the injuries her nanoprobes cause to the Captain or the nanoprobes themselves, so she's had to self-treat her injuries. If she walks in to Sickbay alone, he never sees anything wrong with her." He paused and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I have Harry fixing the doctor's programming now, and I'll get him to schedule a bi-annual physical for everyone starting this week. If she could do this to the Captain, chances are she didn't stop there. "
Horror dawned on B'Elanna's face. "Reprogramming the doctor alone could have gotten Captain Janeway killed! Damn it! Putting her on report, cleaning plasma relays... none of that works with Seven and this is attempted murder! Damn it. What the hell are we gonna do?" She clenched her fists and it was obvious, at least to him, that she was reigning in her temper. "Seven got worse once she started seeing you. More... smug and since the two of you got married, she's been, I don't know, shooting death glares at any woman who comes near you."
Ayala scowled. "I never liked her, Chakotay. And now she's hurt our Captain. We've gotta do something here!"
"Mike, that's why you're here; you have all of Tuvok's threat assessments. Can Seven still walk through force fields?" Chakotay asked.
Ayala hesitated, and then nodded. "She's still Borg enough for that. Icheb can't, but Seven can. Tossing her in the Brig isn't an option. Even if she couldn't walk through forcefields, chances are she could use nanoprobes to reprogram the computer to beam her out or something like that."
"So... we could maroon her," Chakotay said softly. "But if the Borg find her, what she knows endangers the ship. And with what she's been doing, my bet is she'd be vindictive enough to be voluntarily assimilated."
"If she's confined to quarters, the same problems exist with throwing her in the Brig, and she'll be a drain on resources if she's not contributing," Ayala said quietly.
"Then what the hell do we do with the p'taQ?" B'Elanna demanded. "She's proven that she's dangerous! The Captain treated her as if she were her daughter and was repaid by being tortured! We certainly can't keep her anymore!" She frowned. "I hate to say it, Chakotay, but she's a liability. Perhaps we should seek a... permanent solution."
Ayala sighed. "It's not the Starfleet way, but we're not exactly regular 'Fleet out here. If it looks like an accident and is in the ship's log as such..."
The log cut off there, and Chakotay was shocked back to the present out of his reverie. His older self appeared on the screen. "We followed through with the plan and the guilt ate at me. Even though it was a superficial kind of love, I had loved her once... and then I as good as killed her. And that guilt... it poisoned everything. The relationship between Kathryn and I never recovered. Everything we could have had died when I was stupid enough to fall for Seven's obvious charms."
The older version of himself coughed again, covering his face with the bloodstained handkerchief. "I read the damn drone's logs afterwards. She was blaming the Captain for her own assimilation, from removing her from the Collective, and the loss of Axum. I swear, if I'd known how emotionally immature she was and just how unbalanced, I would never have gotten involved. She started reading things into even the most innocent of interactions and all that got tangled up in jealousy and it was a disaster waiting to happen. Screw the temporal prime directive! Break up with Seven before the two of you go any further and get her into treatment when you get home. I'm begging you, make sure she doesn't do this to anyone else!"
The picture cut out, leaving Chakotay reeling. Seven dead from a shuttle "accident" on a routine away mission that he helped engineer. Kathryn enduring a year of isolation combined with six months of torture. The two of them separated. He'd thought he'd stifled his love for Kathryn, but it and a fierce protectiveness came roaring back at the thought of what had happened in the defunct timeline. Hell, he wanted to hurt Seven for something she hadn't even done! It stopped, now! None of it would ever happen now!
He slapped his commbadge. "Computer, locate Seven of Nine."
"Seven of Nine is in the cargo bay."
"Is she awake?"
"Affirmative."
He stood and left his quarters. It didn't take long to go to the cargo bay. She was pacing restlessly. "Seven?" He knew that as angry as he was, it wasn't this Seven he was angry with. He had to tread carefully. He drew in a deep breath to calm and center himself.
"Commander," she said formally.
"I thought we were friends if nothing else," he chided her gently.
"We are, it's just-" She frowned. "You have come to terminate our romantic association."
"As your friend," he stressed the final word, "I will take you to your family and help you settle in. And the Captain and I will make sure you're treated fairly and get the help we couldn't get you on Voyager because we lacked the resources."
Her frown deepened. "I do not need help."
"Yes, Seven, you do. You've experienced post-traumatic stress episodes that included hallucinations," he pointed out. "Hell, the counselors are probably drooling over getting their hands on all of us! I can pretty much guarantee that the entire crew is facing mandatory counseling after we dock."
"I-did not realize." She looked disconcerted.
"You're a lovely young woman, Seven, and I very much doubt you really want to settle down and raise a family." He did his best to be as gentle as possible.
She looked down at the control panel. "No," she said softly. "I do not."
"But I do," he said with a smile. "Very few people spend their lives with the first person they date."
"I... will adapt. Thank you, Commander," she murmured.
"Being back in the Alpha Quadrant opens new possibilities for the entire crew, yourself included." He paused for a moment. "And for a mission of this length, as the commanding officers, the Captain and I will likely spend several months sequestered in debriefings. Any kind of romantic relationship wouldn't survive that."
Seven seemed to hesitate and then laid her hand on his arm. "Are you sure, Chakotay?" she looked at him through long lashes.
He gave her a quick smile. "I'm sure Kathryn will be willing to help you settle into the Alpha Quadrant, as am I, but you and I are just too different and want different things."
"I... see," her voice was even stiffer than it normally was. "I wish to be alone now, Commander."
"I'll see you later, Seven," he said quietly as he made his way out of the cargo bay.
He drew in a deep breath and held it, then released it. He'd make sure there was a strongly worded suggestion in her file that she be sent for intensive counseling when they finished the crew recommendations. But for now... well, Kathryn needed to read the same logs he'd read. He needed to know if what she'd hinted at earlier was even a possibility after they were out of the same chain of command. Based on what he now knew, it was more than a possibility. And for the first time in years, he had hope.
They'd been asked to enter the SOL system at impulse and sent several engineers and spare parts to effect all the repairs Voyager needed. Other than that, she'd never looked better. As soon at it had looked like success was likely, the crew had started cleaning. There wasn't even a cubby aboard that couldn't have passed the proverbial white glove inspection. Surfaces gleamed and the carpets had even been cleaned a few weeks before. Yes, she was a bit shabby and worse for the wear, but the crew as a whole was determined that no fault would be found with the care Voyager's crew and her captain had shown for their ship.
All the correct protocols had been dusted off and shined up as well. Originally, the aim had been so that the brass wouldn't be able to tell Maquis from regular 'Fleet, but by the time they actually made it home, it was a matter of pride. Voyager was a Starfleet ship, run by Starfleet personnel. The crew was determined that everyone with whom they came into contact with would know that.
It had been Chakotay's idea to start with. On and off over seven years, they had prepared for homecoming. They made sure that everyone knew the regs and that they would be followed to the letter when the brass came aboard. It was also why, when scuttlebutt had it that their captain might be facing jail time if any hint of impropriety was found all mention of a possible romantic relationship between her and Chakotay had been carefully scrubbed and the records fixed so that as far as the computer was concerned, the data had never existed. The Voyagers protected their own.
Unofficially, Ayala had told Chakotay that it had all been taken care of. After all, the reasoning went, they owed their captain for getting them home in spite of all the odds against it. He tapped the PADD against his leg as he waited for the turbolift to stop. He and Kathryn were to finish up reports in her ready room. By unspoken agreement they were avoiding being alone in her quarters in the near future in case some of the non-Voyager 'Fleet Personnel had a bent for scuttlebutt. They were doing their absolute best to avoid any appearance of impropriety. And really, well, they'd never acted on their feelings, anyway.
They'd rather avoid prosecution for something they'd never actually done. He stepped out of the turbolift, crossed over to her ready room, and hit the chime. He could feel eyes on him, and a quick peek showed that it was one of the replacements Starfleet had sent over.
The door hissed open as he heard the Captain's voice. "Come in."
"Captain, I have that report you asked for," he said as he stepped inside and the door hissed shut behind him.
She gave him a puzzled look. "Report?"
He smiled a little. "Well, I do have a repair report and a request from the engineers Starfleet sent to allow them to scrub the soot marks off the hull and repaint the registry numbers."
"I didn't ask for it," she said mildly, gesturing towards the stacks of PADDs on her desk.
"I was being watched," he explained as he set the PADD down. "Did the Admiral give you a data chip, too?"
Kathryn frowned. "She gave me a small box, but I haven't had time to look at it yet." She opened her desk drawer and pulled out a small box, that was about the size of the boxes that contained rank insignia. She hesitated, and then slowly opened it, revealing a data chip. "I guess she did," she murmured.
"I'm willing to bet her personal logs are on it," he commented quietly. "She gave me my counterpart's logs, and I know now why she did it."
"All of the deaths?" Kathryn asked. "Tuvok's condition?"
"Partially, " he admitted. "I think she wanted to save me from a lifetime of guilt, get Seven help, and save herself-save you."
"We shouldn't be talking about this," she began.
"We've smashed the Temporal Prime Directive to smithereens already," he said dryly.
Kathryn sighed as she moved up a level and sat on the couch. "You wouldn't tell me what happened when the deflector dish got burnt out."
"That was different!" he protested. "I think that was when I started to give up hope on us," he said softly. "It made me remember how we used to be. The two of us, together."
She frowned. "We never..."
"No, but we knew how we felt. The teasing, the flirting, all of that got lost somewhere." He crossed the room and settled next to her on the couch.
"We'll never be the same people we used to be," she said slowly. "But we can get some of that back. It's just-Seven."
"I told her I was willing to help her get settled and we need to get her help. We can't allow her to repeat what her counterpart did." Chakotay leaned back against the cushions. "Her counterpart tortured you for six months because she saw you as a rival for my affections... and just so you know, as soon as I'm not under your command, I have a very important question to ask."
"If it is what I think it is, the answer will be yes," she said quietly.
"What about a family?" Chakotay murmured.
"I can't reset that clock much longer, but like most 'Fleet personnel, I have my genetic material in stasis." She drew in a deep breath. "I want fat, roly-poly babies with your dimples."
He flashed her a big grin. "I want some girls with red hair and blue eyes."
She laughed. "It isn't likely, Chakotay, not with your genome."
"True. Now... about the reports. We need to make sure there's a strong recommendation for Seven to get counseling. She has had a few PTSD episodes; we can use that as an excuse."
Kathryn nodded. "All of us will be seeing counselors," she observed. "I got the word from Starfleet Medical that we won't be released until after all of us have had full medical exams, including psychiatric evaluations."
"I can wait a few more weeks, Kathryn," he said softly. "We're going to have the rest of our lives together." He returned to ship's business, so when the door chimed and the man he'd mentally labeled as the 'snoop' entered, it was all he heard.
As soon as medical exams had been completed, they'd been given a short period of leave for the holidays, but were expected back at Headquarters for debriefings two days after the new year began. The Wildmans had officially taken custody of Icheb until he turned eighteen in a few months. He'd been accepted as a second year cadet starting with the new semester. All of them had passed medical exams with flying colors-though those that had been assimilated were wanted back for surgery to remove a few stray Borg components that had been left due to a lack of resources and time constraints. And, well, Tuvok's family was on their way to cure his neurological condition. Every single member of the crew would be spending a month-for most it was longer-in mandatory counseling.
Unbeknownst to anyone, the doctor had removed Seven's emotional failsafe. Her emotions were volatile and completely uncontrolled. He had been reprimanded for doing it without bringing a counselor in for treatment. Seven had been deemed to be a potential danger to herself and others and placed in a high-security residential treatment facility until she could learn the necessary self-control. As promised, the charges had been dropped against the former Maquis. Field commissions had been upheld, further training offered and every one of them was given, not just the opportunity, but encouragement, to stay with the ' Fleet.
The Equinox survivors were another story. While their families had been allowed to visit, all of them were being detained for their actions on the Equinox. They were facing Article 32 hearings for their parts in the slaughter of the Ankari, and probable court martial. All things considered, it could have been much, much worse and it was better than he'd dared hope.
Chakotay slung his duffel tube over one shoulder and held out his hand for Kathryn. She took it as they walked slowly towards the transport station. They'd made sure that every member of their crew had somewhere to go; their arrival had been so unexpected that families were not necessarily there when they arrived. They were visiting her family for the holidays and would go to Trebus to visit his sister and her family during the leave they'd been promised after debriefings.
"Have they said anything about us?" he asked softly as they walked.
"Not really," she admitted. "Debriefings haven't started yet; I'm sure it will come up at some point." They arrived at the transport station and luckily, there wasn't a line. "Bloomington, Indiana," she requested quietly.
The man on duty eyed them but didn't say anything. Instead, he simply nodded and transported them. "Perhaps we shouldn't have held hands," he observed.
Kathryn snorted. "They may not have had the change of command ceremony yet, but Voyager isn't mine anymore and everyone is being reassigned, anyway. She's due a long vacation in spacedock while she's being refit."
They stepped off the transporter pad, hitched their bags a little higher and started walking. "So you're saying that..." Chakotay began.
"I was told that considering our circumstances, they wouldn't have been surprised for us to arrive home with half the crew either married or in long-term relationships and with a hell of a lot more children." Kathryn squeezed his hand tightly.
"So if we had... changed our parameters and came home with a family?" Chakotay asked.
"Uncle Theo, that is, Admiral Patterson, said they would not consider prosecuting any of Voyager's crew for violations of fraternization regs. At least this time around." She fiddled with the commbadge she was still wearing.
"So if we showed up to debriefing as more than the command team..." he trailed off.
"Probably nothing, but you never know," she said with a grimace. "It depends on which Admiral is in charge and if they're out for blood or not."
Chakotay shivered and wished he'd replicated a warmer coat. "Which way?" he asked.
"We can cut through the park," she offered. Her eyes lit up as it started to snow. "I've missed this," she admitted as she stopped and turns her face up towards the sky.
"What? Snow?" he asked. "
"Weather in general," she clarified. He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm as they started walking again. He felt the small box hit his thigh as they walked through the lightly falling snow.
Watching their footing, they carefully started to cross a picturesque snowy bridge. He stopped in the middle. "I have a question to ask you, then," he said quietly. He reached in his pocket and pulled out the box. "This has been passed down in my family for generations." He opened it, showing her the ring inside. "It was rescued after the Cardassians killed my family. Kathryn, will you marry me?"
One of the quirky, crooked, half-smiles that he loved crossed her face. "We've never even kissed."
He grinned at her. "I bet most of the crew considers us married already..." He leaned in and kissed her slowly and tenderly. She kissed him back and it quickly spiraled out of control. He broke it off, breathing heavily. "You won't be able to tell them we've never even kissed now," he said as he gasped for air.
She laughed breathlessly and leaned her forehead against his chest. "With some of the questionable decisions I made, I may be facing court martial anyway. What's one more charge?"
He chuckled. "They can hang us together! Oh, and I love you, Kathryn."
She grinned saucily and kissed him again. " I love you, too. And yes. I never want a day apart from you."
He kissed her again and with cold hands, slipped the ring onto her finger. "Me neither."
"C'mon, Chakotay," she said softly, "let's go home." Hand-in-hand, they walked towards her mother's house and his new family. Towards their new life... Together.
End.