Note: This is the eleventh in an ongoing series of post-Endgame stories. They must be read in order, and all can be found on my stories page. This one was so darn much fun to write it should probably be illegal. Enjoy.
"For small creatures such as we the vastness is bearable only through love."
– Carl Sagan
Time On My Hands 11
Someday when I tell my part of the story, Katoha, I'll start by scolding your Grandfather for keeping the ending from you for so long.
He'll give me a look that's all innocence but hints at mischief nevertheless – the look that slips right past my defenses and nearly always gets him whatever he wants from me. I first saw that look on the day he introduced me to my spirit guide. I saw it every day on New Earth, once in a while after New Earth...and then less and less often as the years passed.
Now it's a constant companion on my journey through this life, and I'm grateful for it every day.
But I'll set these thoughts aside and I'll muster a disapproving frown. "You shouldn't tease, Chakotay," I'll say.
"But it only works once on each of them, Kathryn," he'll protest. "Let me have that much at least." Then he'll turn and smile at you. "And Katoha already knows the ending. Don't you, Little Cat?"
You'll think hard about it...but only for a minute. Because the end of the story is in you, Katoha. It sings in your blood and sparkles in your eyes, just like it does in your brothers and sisters, your cousins, your Uncles, and your Mother.
Then your face will light up. "I do know," you'll say. "But will you tell me anyway, Grandmother?"
I'll sit on the edge of the bed beside you so that you're nestled safely between your dear old Shinli and me. He'll tuck the blanket around you and kiss your forehead, a tender gesture to show you that you are loved. So very loved.
"Ready?" I'll ask.
You'll nod solemnly, both you and your Grandfather, and I will begin.
Someday when you ask where you came from, Katoha...someday when you wonder why your Mother and your Uncles were born on a starship, but you and your brothers and sisters were born on this farm...someday when you look up at the stars and wonder how you came to be...I will tell you the end of the story, Granddaughter. And I will start with these words:
We had never had so much time our hands.
We devised individual ways of marking it. I observed the position of the sun and moon, noted the sunrises and sunsets, watched the shadows change. I determined that a New Earth day would have to be a few minutes shorter than a Voyager day and set our devices and clocks accordingly.
In his daily wanderings and comings and goings, Chakotay pocketed a small stone. When the sun disappeared below the far horizon he dropped that day's stone stone into a clear glass vase. A simple solution, a visible reminder of the passing days and nights. Simple, but elegant in that simplicity. "Someday we'll have something beautiful," he said.
It was early in our stay there and I wasn't ready to hear the meaning of his words.
When the bottom of the vase was covered with ten small stones, I began to note a warming in the cool breeze and a lengthening of the daylight hours. I knew our planet's rotation rate and orbital path, of course, but I still looked for evidence of seasonal changes in our surroundings. I tracked avian migration patterns, noted the further greening of deciduous flora and the reproduction of fauna. I cataloged holoimages of colorful flowers.
Chakotay emerged from our shelter one morning, turned his face to the sun and said, "Summer is coming."
When there were twenty-two stones in the vase, I dragged a telescope to a meadow near our shelter. I made a schedule for observing the phases and position of the moon and jotted down tentative notes for a lunar calendar.
Chakotay spread a blanket under the stars and began to name the constellations, spinning stories of heroes and villains, adventures and battles, great loves and great losses.
When there were forty-five stones in the vase, a plasma storm destroyed all the work I'd been doing to find a cure for the illness that stranded us there. That night after we'd cleared the wreckage from our shelter, he offered to empty the vase. Startled, I asked him why.
He gave me a thoughtful look. "I don't want you to think I'm mocking you," he said solemnly. "I know you don't want to be here."
With me. I heard it even though he didn't say it. I know you don't want to be here with me.
I stayed his hands when he reached for the vase. "Don't," I said. "Save the stones. Keep adding to them. They make the time real to me." He nodded slowly and left the vase on the shelf.
Later he told me a touching and transparent story. I began to understand him just a little, just enough to be intrigued by the days ahead. I imagined a time when the vase would be full and we'd count the stones out one by one. We'd set that vase aside and begin a new one. The thought made me wistful, but not so sad. Not anymore.
When there were fifty stones in the vase, I noted the warmth of the soil to a depth of fifteen centimeters. Chakotay rolled a handful of dirt in his palm. "It's time to plant," he said. He took a shovel and dug up a plot of earth near our shelter. I planted the Talaxian tomato seeds we'd brought with us.
On the eighty-fifth day, the day Tuvok contacted us, Chakotay didn't put a stone in the vase. As we separated our mingled belongings in tense and wary silence, I noticed he didn't even look at the vase. He removed and packed everything around it, but left it on the shelf alone.
Wordlessly, he hid away all the other beautiful things he'd created for us in featureless, unlabeled cargo containers. His sand paintings and carvings. His workbench and my desk. The shelves and headboards. All gone. He dismantled the bathtub. He never touched the vase.
I didn't know what he intended to do with it. I only hoped he didn't mean for me to pack it. I couldn't bear to empty it.
I watched and waited for him to drop a stone in it that night. He didn't. At dusk he just slipped into his room without a backward glance. Later, so did I. Voyager was due to arrive in twelve hours.
When I awoke after a fitful sleep on the morning of our departure, the vase was gone.
So was he.
I ate breakfast in lonely silence. Voyager was nearing and I had no idea where he'd gone. When an hour had passed with no sign of him, I dug a tricorder out of a cargo container and set out to bring him back.
When I found him, though, I didn't dare disturb him.
He was sitting at the riverbank, still wearing the clothes he'd been wearing the day before. The vase was beside him in the grass.
As I watched, he reached in, plucked out a stone and, with a sudden sharp movement that made me flinch, he sent the stone flying into the river.
One by one, he returned the stones to the planet. He held some of them in his hands for a moment, staring at them as if committing to memory the specific details of the days they represented.
Chakotay is a very private man, and I knew I shouldn't be watching him perform this most private of rituals. But I couldn't look away. I sat down with my back against a tree and watched until all the stones were gone. Then he stood and heaved the vase away from him. It arced high in the air, sparkling in the early morning sunlight, tumbling end over end. It smashed against a boulder jutting from the water and shattered.
At the sound of the breaking glass both of us let out a cry – mine muffled by my hand. I watched, fascinated and horrified, as he sank down on his knees at the edge of the water, his head bowed.
I do not believe he wept.
I have to believe he didn't.
To acknowledge that he did would be an admission of the hold that place had on him – had on us.
Because watching him, I wept enough for both of us.
I thought we had so much time our hands. Time enough to learn each other carefully and thoroughly, to let go of regrets and misgivings, to make the deliberate and slow slide from friends to lovers. We had slipped quickly from enemies to allies, from colleagues to friends. I thought we had a lifetime to make this final step together.
I was wrong.
Half an hour passed – half an hour of Voyager time; my mind had already made the switch – until he finally stood up and began to strip off his clothes. He folded each item neatly and set it aside. Vest. Shirt. Boots. Socks. Trousers. When he reached for his shorts I looked away. I already felt like a voyeur, having watched him throw the stones away. I couldn't bear to see him any more vulnerable than I already had.
I listened to him splash in the river for a time, glancing up once to see him standing waist-deep in the water, very still, his arms outstretched and his hands lightly skimming the surface. When he returned to the bank I looked away until I heard the whisper of clothing over skin again. This time, he was reversing the process. Over the regulation gray shorts he pulled on his gray turtleneck. Black socks. Red and black uniform. Shiny black boots. A change came over him as he dressed. With every piece of his uniform, the gentle, caring man who smiled easily and laughed often, the man I was only just beginning to know, faded. By the time he attached his rank bar, he was every bit my First Officer again. Still kind, still considerate, still Chakotay...but Commander Chakotay now.
He left his civilian clothes behind when he turned and departed toward the shelter. I darted along a different route and hoped he wouldn't hear me moving through the forest ahead of him. When he walked through our door for the last time, I was back in my own uniform. I wondered if his felt as confining and uncomfortable as mine did. I knew it would be familiar again soon enough, and eventually welcome. But just then felt like a trap.
Later, minutes before Tuvok arrived, I claimed a need for solitude and went back to the river. I told myself it was because we didn't want to leave any trace of our presence behind. In truth a burst of sentimentality had sent me back to claim his shirt for my own. I wanted something, some part of him, some part of us, that that I could keep. But it was gone, lost to the wind – or possibly our primate friend. I gathered up the rest of his clothes and dashed back to the shelter.
In my lonelier moments on Voyager, I often wondered if he kept a memento from New Earth. I've never asked.
Six years removed from New Earth, eight months since Voyager's return from the Delta Quadrant, I am sitting by the window in my childhood bedroom. Chakotay's vest from New Earth is spread across my lap like a blanket.
The sun is rising over the valley behind my Mother's house. It's the morning of Prixin, and it's almost unbearably bright. The wind howled for hours after midnight, and when I woke up before dawn and peeked through the curtains, I was astonished. Overnight the temperature had plunged and the wind changed, and southern Indiana is blanketed in snow – nearly twenty centimeters of it, the output of a rare November blizzard. Now the sun is rising in a clear, blue sky, glinting off snowdrifts and icicles. It's the first snow I've seen since we got back, and it's beautiful.
Chakotay's hotel room is on the side of the Union facing Beck Chapel. It must be very pretty this morning with the sun on the snow and the creek running beside the chapel. I wonder if he's up yet. I wonder if he's looked out his window.
I brush my fingertips across the vest. I dug it out of my closet after midnight last night. It was in the bottom of the one and only cargo container I haven't taken to San Francisco yet, the one packed full of memories I haven't been able to face, even after all these months.
Lyndsay Ballard's favorite book of poetry was in the container. Joe Carey's tin whistle. Mike Jonas's rank insignia and his friend Hogan's blue knit sweater. A scarf Jetal bought on shore leave. Pete Durst's pool cue. A data chip of Addie Kaplan's favorite music. Stadi's earring. Cavit's handwritten note of thanks for my faith in him, given to me on the day we left Deep Space Nine. Reminders of those we lost along the way, hidden from me but never forgotten, one memento for every soul left behind.
They are spread on the floor around me now, more than thirty of them.
When I got back to my Mother's house last night I unpacked the container for the first time. I held each precious object in my hand, spoke the name of the person each represented, and wept again for each and every loss.
It's the last step I had to take before I can finally leave the Delta Quadrant behind me. I had to face the decisions I made there, and the consequences of those decisions. I had to acknowledge the guilt that's been my shadow since I destroyed the Caretaker's array and stranded so many people so far away from their homes. I had to feel again the grief I felt for myself and for them, and especially for the lives lost, before I can step into a new life in the Alpha Quadrant.
At the bottom of the container, I knew I would find Chakotay's clothes from the last day we spent together on New Earth. When I packed them away, I thought they were just more reminders of everything I had lost on the journey and would never get back.
I realize now that they are symbols of something I gained along the way. But I couldn't acknowledge it until I worked through the losses.
I suspect the Starfleet counselors would be pleased with this epiphany.
In fact, it's probably what they were trying to tell me all along. Starting a new life after the Delta Quadrant entails much more than just accepting a promotion, moving into a new office, and starting new duties.
I have to embrace everything that happened to me, both good and bad, before I can truly go forward.
Last night, I think I finally did just that. I expressed the grief I kept inside every time we lost another friend. I faced the darkness and desperation that led to the Equinox incident and the encounter with Kashyk. I let myself feel the hurt I hid when Chakotay left with Seven, and the confusion I suppressed during his long absence. I heard his words understood for the first time how much I hurt him over the years, and how far-reaching the consequences of my actions really were.
And I allowed myself to experience, finally, the depth of the bond I have felt for my former foe, First Officer and dearest friend almost from the moment we first met.
The vest is a little stiff now from disuse, but it still smells of grass and dirt and fresh air. There are even wood shavings clinging to it from some project or another. Maybe the boat he had planned to build. It would be typical of him to start the construction and make certain he was capable of the work before telling me of his plan. It's how he often handled personnel and staffing issues on Voyager, and a thousand other little tasks I never knew about. He set solutions in motion before I ever knew there were problems.
"Just trying to make your job easier," he would say when he told me of his actions.
The thought makes me smile.
A First Officer resolves issues behind the scenes in order to free the Captain's time. But only Chakotay would see his role in taking care of these things as a way of taking care of me.
I pull the vest closer around my legs.
The house is very quiet. Phoebe and Frank will be over soon with Eddie and Katie. All of us – Mom, Phoebe and her family and I – will go to the Union together for brunch and the all-day party and reunion. Mom will be up shortly I'm sure, probably baking something for brunch even though we've had the whole affair catered in. I dropped a hint yesterday that apple tarts might fit nicely with the food we ordered. While I watch the sun come up, I stay alert for the scents of cinnamon and coffee.
For now, though, I'm the only one up, and I'm enjoying the silence here in my childhood bedroom.
I slept more soundly last night than I have in months. Aunt Martha would say it's because my conscience is finally clear.
She would be right.
Last night Chakotay and I really talked for the first time in years, and about topics we carefully avoided on Voyager. It's clear that I have his friendship back. That's more important to me than anything else we might have together.
I had assumed that "anything else" was out of the question now. I thought we had waited too long. I thought there was too much hurt between us, too many misunderstandings and far too much to forgive.
But Chakotay's ability to keep his mind open to possibilities has always been something I admired about him.
His stories of us together in the multiverse were...enchanting.
When I asked him if all versions of us were together and happy, I expected him to nod and try to persuade me that we should be, too. But he didn't. He gave me an answer that shocked me and cut him to the bone.
As always, he put the matter back in my hands. In his own roundabout way he was letting me know that he'd be happy with whatever I could give him.
And I realized...I'm finally prepared to give him almost anything he asks for.
There's still something missing, some intangible quality that we used to have between us but lost along the way. I went to sleep last night desperate to figure out what it was. But I woke up this morning more clearheaded and resolute than I thought possible. We'll find what we lost. Maybe not soon, and maybe it'll take more hard conversations to discover it. But we will. I'm confident of that now. We just have to be patient with each other, and with ourselves.
I feel like I came to this awareness just in time.
The scent of coffee wafts up the staircase. I carefully repack the cargo container, then dash through the shower, dress and head downstairs.
The kitchen is warm and bright and scented with cinnamon and apples. Mom is sitting at the kitchen table, coffee in hand. She pushes an empty cup across the table to me. "Good morning," she says. "You got in late, didn't you?"
I pour myself a cup of coffee. "I'm forty-five years old, Mom. If I want to wander in at midnight, I will."
She gives a disapproving little hum. "Phoebe and I didn't expect you to come home at all."
"Oh?"
"Given that you were going to see Chakotay."
"Mom..."
She smirks at me over the rim over coffee mug. "You've been talking about him for days."
I feign surprise. "I have?"
My Mother rolls her eyes at me. Ah. So that's where I get it from. "Did you see him?"
"He was the only one still up. We went for a walk."
"'A walk?' Is that what they call it now?"
"MOTHER!" I nearly drop my coffee.
She laughs at me. "Did you talk?"
I cradle the mug in both hands as a precaution for the next scandalous remark. "Yes. We walked down to the Well House and cleared the air."
Her smirk is back. "The Well House. IU's central location for...do they still call it 'making out'?"
"Not for about a hundred years, Mom. And we didn't. So don't ask."
She laughs and shakes her head at me.
She's still chuckling to herself when Phoebe and her family tumble in from the porch. Phoebe and Frank begin the rite of unwrapping the kids from their parkas and boots and scarves, something I can remember from my own childhood. It doesn't snow here often, but when it does, it does so with a vengeance.
"What's so funny?" Phoebe asks. "What did I miss?"
Mom pours two more cups of coffee. "Kathryn took Chakotay to the Well House last night."
Phoebe grins at me. "Really?"
"Nothing happened," I repeat. "We just talked."
"Talked," Phoebe says. I expect her to tease me about it, but she surprises me. "That's good, Kathryn. A few months ago you acted like you didn't want him anywhere near you, even though you claimed he was your best friend." She sits down and sips her coffee. "It sounds like you've made a first step back to what you had before."
"I think we have. I hope we have." I sigh. "I feel like we have one chance to get this perfect."
Mom and Phoebe and Frank all take a long, hard look at me. Frank, with baby Eddie on his knee, is the first to speak up. I don't know my brother-in-law as well as I'd like to, but he does possess a straightforward honesty that reminds me of my Father. It's probably the quality that allows him to survive a family of Janeways day in and day out. "It won't be perfect, Kathryn. No relationship ever is. Don't set yourself up for failure before you even get started, just because your expectations are too high."
Phoebe nods. "It'll be work, Kathryn. A lot of work and sacrifice."
Mom chimes in, her eyes narrowed at me. "And compromise."
I look at all their serious, earnest faces...and I laugh. "Seven years in the Delta Quadrant," I remind them. "Seven years. It was far from perfect. And work and sacrifice are two things that Chakotay and I excel at, I can assure you." I take my Mother's hand across the table. "I know I'm not always good at compromise. But he'll keep me honest. And I'm committed to making our relationship, whatever it turns out to be, work for both of us."
They all nod back at me. I squeeze my Mother's hand. I'm seized by an overwhelming urge to express more of the emotions I've suppressed for so long. "I love you all. You know that, don't you? I realized out there how important family is to me, and how vital it is to tell the people you love that you love them. Because tomorrow, any of us might be gone."
There are tears all around the table, but before things get too maudlin the comm system beeps. It's Harry. He's outside somewhere, wearing a Starfleet-issue parka and a bright red knit cap that could only have been made by his mother. He's speaking into a PADD. "Admiral!" He says. "We all got up early to enjoy the snow before brunch. You should come!"
"Where are you?"
Harry squints at the PADD. "I think Chakotay said it was...Woodburn Field?"
I grin. "Woodlawn Field."
Harry nods and smiles. "That's it. Woodlawn Field."
Tom leans into the frame. He's wearing an identical green cap. I have a feeling Mrs. Kim has been busy. "Chakotay said to tell you he's sorry it's too snowy to show off his lacrosse skills for you, but he'll have your coffee ready." Tom smirks. "We've all assumed this is a coded message. Is there something we should know about, Admiral?"
I roll my eyes at them both.
We all begin the ritual of re-wrapping the kids and ourselves in boots and coats. My snow gear is back in San Francisco. In my room I push aside the box of childhood mementoes I packed months ago, reach into the closet and pull out a very old Starfleet-issue parka and boots. I haven't worn these since I was a Cadet. The parka still fits, but the old boots feel like lead weights on my feet.
Phoebe has followed me up the stairs. When I turn around she's leaning against my doorway. "You talked," she says, and the words have a definite tone of disbelief.
"Just talked," I say firmly. "Nothing more."
"No decisions? No plans?"
"No. It was really a very open-ended discussion. We needed to get a few things out of the way before today."
"Why?"
I sit down on the edge of my bed. "Because there's always someone watching, Phoebe. Always."
"That had to be exhausting."
"It is." I fold my hands on my lap. "Even when we disagree, we have to find a way to keep it from the crew. Even when we're not united, we have to at least appear that way for their sakes."
"Had to," she says.
My head snaps up. "What?"
She shrugs. "You're speaking in present tense. You have to seem like you agree, you have to appear united. But you don't anymore. That's in the past now."
"I don't think I understand the difference."
She sits down next to me. "Kathryn, if you're going to make this work, you have to put the past in the past. That means the days of disguising your feelings from each other in order to keep up appearances are over. It's time now to figure out what you both really want. If you want the same things, that's wonderful. If not... Well, it's not so wonderful, but it's honest. I think you haven't been honest with each other or with yourselves in the entire time you've known each other. But now you can be. It sounds like you made a good start last night. Build on that. You have plenty of time on your hands now. And stop worrying about what other people think. Especially the crew that loves you both."
I gaze at my little sister for a long, quiet moment. "When did you get so wise, Phoebe?"
She shrugs. "You've been gone a long time. Things changed." She jumps up from the bed. "Let's go. He's probably wondering where the hell you are by now."
In half an hour we are marching down 10th Street and through the Arboretum. The trees, all covered with new snow, glisten in the bright sunlight. Before I can see anyone, I hear them: My crew and their families, happy to be together and playing in the snow on Woodlawn Field. Mom spies Tom and B'Elanna and starts passing out warm apple tarts. Katie runs through the snow to Tuvok's family and her new friend T'Meni. Harry and Libby are standing quietly near the Arboretum pond with Seven and the Doc – Joe. They're all here, and many more besides. Naomi and Sam and her husband. Mike and his boys. Chell and Ken and Ken's wife. Hoke and his family. Philicia and Sue. Everybody is wearing a new knit cap. Even Joe and Tuvok. I can't help but smile.
I adore these people. Just adore them.
Phoebe gives me a nudge. "He's over there," she says with a toss of her head. I follow her gaze, and there's Chakotay on the other side of the field with his family: His sister Sekaya (light brown cap), a tall, broad-shouldered man who must be her husband Koham (dark green), and a little girl and boy (pink and blue, of course). Chakotay's got his dark brown cap pulled low on his ears. He hates to be cold. A wave of affection comes over me with this thought.
I adore him, too.
Phoebe nudges me again and I'm off, lurching through the snowdrifts in my heavy old boots. I must be a graceless sight indeed.
He sees me coming and smiles. He rummages in a knapsack, pulls out a thermal carafe and starts toward me.
As I'm stumbling through the snow, I'm very conscious of all the eyes on us. As far as most of these people know, this is the first time Chakotay and I have seen each other in eight months. He seems to realize this too. His eyes are full of mischief when he leans down to murmur in my ear. "They're watching you."
I walk right up to him, and just as I did last night I pull him down to me and plant a kiss on his cheek. He gasps and tries to straighten, but I hold his head close to mine. I know he's still unsure about me, about us. It's time to make my intentions completely plain. I brush my lips over his ear and he gasps again. "Now they're watching you," I whisper.
He pulls back and stares at me, then laughs with delight. "Would you like me to try to throw them off?" he asks. "Should I faint? Fake a heart attack? Call for Security?"
I reach up again and brush my fingertips across his cheek. "How about we just let them wonder?" He smiles and presses his face into my hand. "You look more rested," I say.
"I slept better last night than I have in months. Probably better than I had any right to."
"I had the same thought when I woke up. Benefit of a clear conscience, my Aunt Martha would say."
He nods. "I'm glad we got a chance to talk last night. I think it helped."
"I think so, too. I just have one more question for you." He goes serious and still. "Where's my coffee?"
He laughs again and presses the carafe into my hands just as something small smashes into the backs of his knees, nearly knocking him down. "Paka!" Chakotay exclaims. He picks the boy up and says a few words in a language I can't understand, and then adds, "Be gentle."
The boy has a round face and deep brown eyes. Dark hair peeks out from under his blue knit cap. "This is your nephew?" I ask.
Chakotay nods proudly. "This is Paka. He's three." He kisses the boy's face; Paka squeals and pushes him away. "He's also very naughty sometimes."
"Aren't all little boys?"
"I wasn't."
I laugh long and hard. "I don't believe you for a second, Chakotay." I reach out and touch the boy's ruddy cheeks. "He's gorgeous."
Paka stares at me. He also says something I can't understand. Chakotay chuckles and repeats the phrase, then, "Blue," he says. "She has blue eyes."
"Blue," Paka repeats. "Blue eyes." He cocks his head to one side. "Pretty," he says hesitantly.
Chakotay's grin widens. "Yes," he says, "they are very pretty."
I feel myself blush under both their gazes. "He doesn't speak Standard?"
"Not much. It's our way to speak our language with the children when they're small, and then Standard when they're a little older. It makes them more careful with words."
Paka holds his hands out to me in the universal gesture of "please hold me." Before I can react, Chakotay leans over and dumps him into my arms, easing the carafe from my hands in the same move.
The boy buries his face in my hair. "Pretty," he breathes.
"Your nephew's a flirt, Chakotay."
He grins. "Aren't all little boys?"
I give him a disapproving look. "I'm sure you were, at least."
"He just likes you."
The boy is clinging to my neck so tightly I feel a little choked. "I sense that."
A small hand touches mine. A little girl is looking up at me with an expression I have seen many times before: Soft, knowing eyes set in a solemn face.
"Uncle keeps your picture beside his bed," she says quietly.
I raise an eyebrow at Chakotay. "Does he, now?"
She nods. "He has told us stories of you."
"Good stories, I hope."
She nods again and smiles. "Yes," she says. "Very good stories."
Chakotay shuffles his feet in the snow. "This is Calusa," he says. "My niece."
I shift Paka to my hip and touch Calusa's long braid with my fingertips. "It's very nice to finally meet you, Calusa," I say. "I'm Kathryn."
Sekaya and Koham draw close to Chakotay, who introduces me to them. Koham takes Paka from my arms. "Your children are beautiful," I say to them both.
"Thank you," Koham says simply.
"And thank you for bringing my brother home," Sekaya says. She eyes me speculatively for a moment, then, to my surprise, she draws me into a warm embrace. "And thank you for taking care of him."
I hold her at arm's length. "I think you have that backwards, Sekaya. He took care of me."
She lowers her chin in a gesture that is hauntingly, achingly familiar to me, and smiles. "Maybe. But now you will take care of each other."
"I...yes." I glance up at Chakotay, whose eyes are suddenly very bright. "Yes. Now we will take care of each other." The words have the welcome weight of a vow.
Before I can think any further about that, my family closes in around us. I introduce Mom and Phoebe and Frank to Chakotay, who seems unnerved by all the attention, until Mom presses an apple tart into his hands. "Kathryn says you have quite the sweet tooth," she says with a smile. "You'll fit right in."
He grins and downs the tart in three quick bites.
My niece Katie steps right up to Calusa. "I like your name," she says. "And your pretty braid."
Calusa glances up at Sekaya, who nods in encouragement. "Thank you," she says.
"Want to make a snowman with T'Meni and me?"
Calusa cocks her head to one side. "I don't know how."
"I'll show you." Katie holds out her hand. "Friends?" she asks.
Calusa hesitates for only a second before she takes the offered hand and smiles. "Cousins," she says, and the girls bound off into the snow, leaving us all smiling in their wake.
Chakotay hands me the carafe again. "They make it seem so easy," he says.
Sekaya pats him on the back. "It is easy, Chakotay," she says, "if you let it be." She slips her arm into Phoebe's on one side and my Mother's on the other. "Let us leave them alone," she says, and steers my entire family away from Chakotay and me. Frank and Koham follow along with Eddie and Paka. As he passes by, Koham turns and winks at us both.
"Well," I say, watching them go. "If that's not a hint, I don't know what is."
Chakotay clears his throat. "My family is...blunt," he says.
"But insightful. Just like you." I take a long sip of the hot coffee. "I counted on that out there. I'll count on it here, too."
"Then I will do my best to oblige."
"I'm sure you will." I take his arm. "Shall we make the rounds, Captain?"
We make our way slowly around the field. We find Tuvok and Hoke birdwatching in the Arboretum with Hoke's grandkids and Chell. Mike's boys are chatting with Tom about piloting various types of shuttlecraft; he shoos us away before Chakotay can give them any bad advice. Chakotay grumbles about that, but it's tempered by his sheepish grin.
Near the Arboretum pond, the Doc – Joe – and Seven are examining ice crystals with Naomi and Icheb. When we check in on the progress of the snowman, now under B'Elanna and Harry's direction, Harry pulls a sky-blue knit beret from his pocket.
"Mom made this for you, Admiral," he says.
"She's here?" I ask. "I'd love to chat with her again."
Harry blushes furiously. "She and Dad are back at the hotel. They'll be there for brunch."
"I can't wait to see them." I pull on the beret, which fits perfectly. "What do you think?"
Harry nods. "It suits you," he says.
"It matches your eyes, Kathryn," Chakotay says, and Harry blushes even harder.
"I'd better get back to the snowman," he stammers. "Oh, I almost forgot!" He reaches into his pocket and hands me a PADD. "Messages from Neelix came in just after we called you this morning. There's one for you and Captain Chakotay."
Chakotay and I head back toward the relative shade of the Arboretum to watch the message. Along the way we pass more knots of people playing happily in the snow – adults and children, senior and junior officers, Maquis and Starfleet, all talking and laughing together. A thought begins to form in the back of my mind, but I set aside when we reach the the shade of a stately old pine tree.
Chakotay activates the PADD. Neelix's dear, sweet face appears, and tears fill my eyes.
"Greetings, Admiral, Captain," he begins.
"I think I've timed these messages correctly so that they'll arrive on the morning of Prixin. Tom Paris told me in his last message that there's a celebration planned. I dearly wish I could be there to see all of you on this day. I miss you all so much.
"But Dexa and Brax and I have planned our own celebration here, of course, and while it won't be quite the same as the parties we used to have on Voyager, I'll cherish it no less. Because Dexa and Brax...they're my family now, too. And that's why I wanted to send the two of you this Prixin message."
He hesitates, gathering himself, and then continues.
"I wanted to thank you both. For taking Kes and me in when we had nowhere else to turn, and for placing so much faith and trust in us. When I came to Voyager, I was...cynical. Maybe even a little angry. All I really wanted to do was protect Kes. I resented it at first, every time you made a decision to investigate a nebula or approach an anomaly, Admiral. I thought you were putting us all in too much danger.
"But I came to realize that you, all of you, had a sense of wonder that I had lost somewhere along the way. You were curious about the Universe and how it worked, where I was just trying to survive and keep Kes safe. You taught me that there's more to life than just clawing out an everyday existence. So I thank you for that, Admiral. From the bottom of my heart."
There are tears on my face now, but I ignore them.
"And Captain Chakotay...you taught me a very valuable lesson a long time ago, but I didn't understand how valuable until just recently. You told me that while loving makes us vulnerable, what you get back when you love someone is always greater than what you risk. At the time I wasn't ready to hear those words. But when I met Dexa and Brax and had a decision to make about my future, those words came back to me just when I needed them. I took a risk that I might not have otherwise taken. And you were right. What I've gotten back is far greater than what I risked, and far better than I could have imagined.
"So I thank you, Kathryn and Chakotay. For everything you taught me. My life is so much richer for having met you both, and I'm proud to call you both 'family.' I love you both. Take care of yourselves, and of each other. Have a joyous Prixin. Neelix out."
The PADD goes dark.
For a long moment, I can't speak. Chakotay eases the PADD from my shaking fingers and slips it in his pocket. I can't look at him, not yet, but the emotions passing between us are so intense I think for an instant that I could hold them in my hand, if I just reached out and grasped them.
I look out across the field at the joy-filled faces of my crew.
This is it.
This is what we lost in the Delta Quadrant, this awareness that the connections between us, the bonds of friendship and love that we forged there, are more important than the rules and regulations that kept us apart. Our crew knew this, almost instinctively. Chakotay and I must have known it once, too. I remember feeling glimmers of it when he introduced me to my spirit guide, when he teased me about hustling the crew at pool, when he told me I had plenty of time to think things over after my letter from Mark.
It comes over me like a wave, this sudden, sure knowledge that the Universe is huge and wonder-filled, but that the most precious wonder of all is the thrum of hearts beating in time, the sound of another voice, the warmth of a smile that says, "I'm so glad we found each other. I'm happy to be here with you."
I know why the sun seemed brighter this morning. It's because I woke up knowing deep in my bones that I am loved, that I love.
"This is what we lost," I say. "This joy. This sense of wonder."
He nods. "When every day was a struggle just to stay alive, we forgot that being alive is a gift." He looks down at me with eyes so soft and so dark, I could lose myself in them forever. "And being alive together..." he says.
"Is a miracle," I finish the thought for him.
"If this is what we lost," he says, turning to face me fully, "then I think we just got it back."
"It's so improbable," I say, "that we found each other there."
"But we did." He takes my hand in his. "We did, Kathryn."
"The Universe played a merry trick on us when it stranded us out there."
He touches my hair. "What's that?"
I press my cheek into his warm palm. "It took away everything and everyone we cared about, but it gave us someone to love."
I will never forget the way his whole body stills, then curves towards me. In that moment, I know that he would surround me if he could, draw me into his arms and keep me there forever.
But before we take this last step toward each other, we both know there are a few details to work out.
"What do we do now?" he asks.
I can't help it; I laugh out loud. It's all too delightful, too perfect to keep to myself.
He tilts his head toward me. "Kathryn?"
"Don't worry, Chakotay. I have an idea."
"I should have guessed." He shakes his head. "As long as it doesn't involve me flying a shuttle, I'm in. Tell me what you have in mind."
I squeeze his hand. "Take the ship," I say. "Take Voyager."
He frowns. "But -"
"I know. You don't want it. But hear me out."
"I'm listening."
I take a fortifying sip of my coffee. I haven't told anyone this, not even Tuvok. But now it's time. "When we got back and the Admiralty asked me what I wanted, aside from pardons for your crew and back pay and leave for all of us, I told them I wanted only one thing: carte blanche."
He chuckles. "Is that all?"
I grin up at him. "I wanted to be able to write my own orders. My own ticket, for myself and for as many of you as I could. Whatever you wanted, if it was in my power to give it I would. I've been biding my time, trying to decide what I really wanted to do."
The tilt of his head tells me he's intrigued. "Go on."
"We'll take the ship together. All of us." I turn him around to face the crew and families again. "Look at them, Chakotay. Tell me what you see."
He gives his head a little shake. "What am I looking for?"
"What are they doing?" I spot Seven shaking snow from a tree nearby. "What's Seven doing?"
"She and...Joe...are talking to Icheb and Naomi and some of the other kids. I think Joe is catching snowflakes in his hands for them to look at. He must have figured out how to lower his temperature so they don't melt."
I nod and look to another part of the field, where Tom is talking to the Ayala boys. His hands are in the air, moving in close flight formation. "Okay, tell me what Tom's doing."
"He's still with Mike's sons. He must be talking about Nova Squadron."
"Right." I point to a distant knot of people. "Is that B'Elanna and Harry? What are they doing?"
"Looks like they're building an igloo with Calusa an Katie and T'Meni. B'Elanna's sketching out a diagram in the snow, and Harry's showing them how to pack the snow into blocks."
"Right. How about Hoke and Tuvok and his son and...is that Chell? What are they doing?"
"I think they're looking at birds."
"Good. Okay, now do you see -"
"Kathryn," he says. I can hear the exasperation in his voice. "What is this all about?"
"Teaching and learning, Chakotay. We just saw lessons in meteorology and fractal geometry, the physics of flight, engineering and basic biology."
He looks out at the field again. "Okay, I see that. But what does it mean?"
I turn him around to face me. "We'll take the ship back out together, with as many of our crew and their families as we can manage. But we'll make Voyager a teaching ship. "
He blinks. I can see his imagination at work, spinning out possibilities. "Cadets," he says. "We could host trainee cruises. Command-track Cadets could learn to work with older subordinates. Engineering Cadets who need to learn to improvise with available resources can train with B'Elanna. Navigators who need pilot training can work with Tom. Ops, Tactics, Security...we'd have it all covered."
I nod. "Families with kids can rotate on and off if they prefer, or they can live on the ship permanently. The refit's not finished yet. There's plenty of space for classrooms, nurseries...whatever we need."
"Carte blanche," he says. "Do you think the Admiralty will allow it?"
I shrug. "I don't see why not. I asked for flexibility, and they agreed. It's worth a try, anyway." I take his hand again. "And we stay in the Alpha Quadrant. We request low-risk missions as much as possible. Rescues and recoveries. High-interest science targets."
"Supply runs to Dorvan."
I give his hand a squeeze. I know I can't take him away from the family he loves, but he's already imagined a way to stay close to them. "I hadn't thought of that. That's perfect." I take another sip of my coffee. "We'll be together, but without the constant worry about resources and safety and everything else, we might actually be able to enjoy each other."
"It'll be the home we'll always want to go back to," he murmurs. "But you and I will be in the same chain of command again."
I smile up at him. Finally, my opening for the coup de grace. "Not if one of us reports directly to the Academy."
A slow, sly smirk spreads across his face. "This could work."
I take a step closer to him. "We'll tell the crew tonight at the party and let them start thinking about it. I haven't talked to anyone yet, but if we go to HQ a few weeks with a plan and a roster, they'll be more likely to capitulate."
Chakotay nods and looks out over the field. "Do you think they'll come?"
I shrug. "I think a lot of them will. Some of them still haven't settled on new positions here yet. Even if they only take a short tour on the ship, it'll buy them some more time to decide what they really want."
"Tom and B'Elanna have their house now. They might not want to come."
"Or they might rotate in and out. Six months in San Francisco, six on Voyager. Or whatever rotation works best for them. That's the beauty of it, Chakotay. Now what we want comes first. Not just what we need to stay alive."
He nods. "We'll have Miral, Icheb, maybe Naomi, Mike's boys if he wants to come along...groups of Cadets..." He looks down at me. "Will there be room for all those kids?"
"We'll look at the refit plans later. We don't need space to grow our own food anymore, or convert dilithium – although those would be worthy lessons to teach. We can work something out. Or improvise. We're good at that."
He gives me a speculative look. "And how about the other six kids?"
I do a quick mental count. "Which six?"
"Our six," he says softly.
Time stops around me.
I swallow hard.
He sees my hesitation and places a hand on my shoulder. "It's all right, Kathryn," he says. "It was just a thought. As long as we're together, I can be happy being Uncle to Paka and Calusa." He smiles. "And Katie and Eddie, Tom and B'Elanna's kids, Miral and Icheb. All of them."
Even though he's trying not to show it, it's impossible not to hear the disappointment in his voice. I don't want our lives together to be defined by that disappointment.
Deep down I think I've always known that he wanted a family, and maybe even wanted it with me. And the fact that I'm even entertaining the thought of having children with Chakotay when I haven't so much as kissed the man ought to alarm me.
It doesn't.
It feels right. It feels like we've been headed here all along.
Time zips forward, and I can see them. Handsome and contrary boys, freckle-faced and brilliant girls.
I can see us, too, bringing them into the Universe, watching them grow, holding them tight and letting them go. Watching them bring their own children into the Universe. Growing old together. Not alone, not lonely.
For seven years, we did things my way. My parameters, my prerogatives, my plans.
It's his turn now. I know he'd be with me even without children...but if it's in my power to give him the family he craves, I will.
We are far from young, of course. But it can be done. And while I was never sure I wanted children with Justin or Mark...I can't imagine a life with Chakotay that doesn't include our children.
But six?
"How about two?" I say.
He is silent for so long I think he hasn't heard me. Then he smiles, and it's a look I will never forget for as long as I live. Joyful. Tender. Hopeful. And loving, so loving.
Then he grins down at me. "Four," he counters. "Two sets of twins."
I put one hand on my hip, mindful of the hot coffee in the other hand. "What is it with you and twins, Chakotay? Do multiple births run in your family and you've just never bothered to tell me?"
He gives me that mischievous smile, the one that promises all the delicious secrets of the cosmos, and puts his hands on my waist. His touch is firm and confident. There is no hesitation in him at all anymore, and his certainty takes my breath away. "Three," he offers. "Enough to keep things interesting, but not too many to handle if they gang up on us."
"'If'?'"
He laughs. "You think they'll gang up on us?"
"We couldn't even keep Tom and Harry in line. We don't stand a chance against children with our own combined DNA."
"Good point. I'll remember to be on my guard." He starts to pull me to him. It occurs to me simultaneously that there are probably people watching, and that I just don't care. I've waited too long for this. "Three," he says again.
I raise my hand and caress his tattoo – something I've wanted to do for years. He closes his eyes. I brush my fingers across his high cheekbone, pull off his silly cap to stroke the graying hair at his temple, trace the line of his jaw and touch his lips. "Three," I say. "But one set of twins."
He chuckles. I feel it all the way to my toes. "Two pregnancies. Less time away from the center seat. Very smart."
"Exactly."
My body is flush against his now and I can feel the warmth of him even through our heavy parkas. He lowers his head. "Can we start them now?" he whispers, just before he finally closes the distance between us.
The kiss is everything I'd imagined, everything I'd wanted. Strong and sure, slow and passionate, infinite and exquisite. It promises a lifetime of loving, and it leaves me feeling both weak-kneed and powerfully strong. Because I know that with this man beside me, I can do anything. We can do anything.
He breaks the kiss and tilts his head until his lips brush my ear. "I'm serious," he says softly. "I have a room. Let's go."
I wrap my arms around his neck as best I can without dumping the last of my coffee down the back of his coat. "Tempting," I say. His lips capture my earlobe. I close my eyes. "Very tempting. If you think there's a way we can sneak back to the hotel for a few hours without all these people noticing, then by all means, Captain. Lead on."
He pulls back. "Only a few hours?" he asks.
I raise an eyebrow at him. "Why? What did you have in mind?"
He shrugs. "A few weeks."
"Hmmmm. I'm definitely going to need more coffee."
He laughs and manages to pull me even closer to him. "I love you," he says. "Do you know how much?"
"I suspected, but it's all becoming very clear to me now. And I love you, too." I pull him down to me and attempt to kiss him senseless. He tastes like coffee and apples.
I'm just about to tell him that this was absolutely worth the wait and we couldn't have taken this step any sooner...when a snowball whizzes past us. My back straightens without my even thinking about it, but I don't let him go. Not yet. "They're watching, aren't they?"
He glances over the top of my head. "Oh, yes."
"Who threw it?"
"I can't tell. Either Tom or Seven, I think."
I bury my head in his chest. "Had to be Tom. Seven would have better aim."
"Unless that was just a warning shot and the volley is coming." He pauses. "Maybe you should get behind me."
"Is that chivalry or chauvinism talking?"
He shrugs. "I'm just trying to protect the Mother of my sons."
I look up at him again. "Sons?"
"Or daughters," he concedes. "Or some of each. Three of each."
"You're incorrigible."
"I've been called worse. I'm sure I will be again." He kisses me, harder this time. A display for the crew.
I'm in so much trouble.
More snowballs whip past us. "Now who is it?"
He cranes his neck, then clears his throat. If his arms weren't locked around me, he would probably pull on his earlobe. I'm going to ravish that earlobe later. "Tom, B'Elanna, Joe, Mike, Philicia, Sue, Sekaya, Phoebe, Icheb, Sam -"
I drop my head back onto his chest. "I hate them."
"No, you don't." He chuckles, a low, rolling rumble against my cheek.
"No, I don't." It's true. I don't hate them. I love them. All of them. I love that this is the way we are going to be now. Off-duty, we'll be friends first, commanders and commanded second. The Admiralty won't like it. But they haven't liked a lot of what I've done for the last eight years. This is the relationship that works for us, and I'm committed to it.
Nevertheless, I would have liked to keep Chakotay and me under wraps for a little longer. Maybe I could crawl inside his coat and disappear for a while.
I bet it's very warm in there.
Chakotay laughs again. "Naomi just threw a snowball at Tom."
"Did she get him?"
"Right in the face."
"Good for her."
He pauses. "Now she's pointing at us and yelling at him."
"What's she saying?"
"I can't hear. But she's got her hands on her hips and... Kathryn, she looks exactly like you." He gives his head a little shake. "I think she's trying to get them to leave us alone."
"I've taught her well."
"Now they're all moving apart." His eyes widen. "They're taking sides."
"Let's be on Tuvok's side. He never has enough allies."
"I don't even see Tuvok." He glances around, then laughs. "Kathryn, Tuvok's got the babies. Look."
He turns me around and points, and sure enough, there's Tuvok standing far away from the fray. He's holding my nephew Eddie in his arms. Paka is leaning against his knees. T'Pel is beside him with Miral. Hoke has his own youngest granddaughter, and my Mother is holding a small child I don't even recognize. She catches me looking and gives me a wicked grin. I roll my eyes at her.
The field erupts with flying snowballs. The warm sound of laughter echoes off the buildings that surround the field.
I stand and watch them for a long moment, these people I have worked and played with, who have become so dear to me over the years. I think again of the ones we lost along the way – Pete Durst, Lyndsay Ballard, Joe Carey. All of them. I wish they were still here. My heart swells with longing for them, and with love for these people in front of me, young and old, all still together in spite of everything we've been through. Maybe because of everything we've been through.
But now they're here by choice, not out of necessity or chance. The guilt I've always felt at stranding them in the Delta Quadrant leaves me entirely. I will always mourn for what and who we lost, but I will no longer feel ashamed to acknowledge everything we gained.
The march of time is relentless. The only thing that makes our brief existence worthwhile is love.
"We really are family," I whisper. "Aren't we?"
Chakotay pulls me close to his side. "We always were, Kathryn."
I put my arm around his waist. "We could probably slip over to the hotel while they're occupied..." I begin.
"But we'd miss all this fun. And that huge bed will still be there after the party."
I turn to him and nod. His eyes are bright with love and desire. I'm sure mine are, too. "After the party," I echo.
He lets me go and snaps to attention. "Your orders, Admiral?" I raise my eyebrows at him. He nods toward the happy free-for-all. "Whose side are we on?"
"Your choice, Captain."
"Hmmmm. I think Naomi's side. She showed real officer thinking a minute ago."
"And she hit Tom in the face with a snowball."
"Earning her my loyalty for life."
I prepare to run into the melee. "Are you with me, Chakotay?"
I wait for his customary response, but it doesn't come. This worries me. I turn to look at him.
He's standing very still. "Forever, Kathryn," he says.
And I realize that for all these years, this is the answer I've been waiting to hear from him.
I want to tell him this, but for a moment I can't speak.
He frowns. "Kathryn? Are you all right?"
I nod. "I am," I say slowly, the realization coming with the words. "I am all right now." I take his hands in mine. "And this, Chakotay? This is going to be all right, too, isn't it?"
"All right? No." He grins. "This will never just be 'all right.' It'll be confusing and difficult and messy and terrifying." He squeezes my hands. "But it'll also be joyous and wonder-filled and surprising and transcendent. It'll never be perfect. But it'll be perfectly us, and that's all we need."
"Are we ready?"
"I think we are."
I pull him down and kiss him again. "It's about time," I say, and we rush onto the field side by side.
While I am flinging snowballs, running and ducking, diving for cover and laughing, the words of the Prixin blessing keep running through my head. "We do not stand alone. We are in the arms of family. We gather this day to extol the warmth and joy of those unshakeable bonds. Without them we could not call ourselves complete. On this day we are thankful to be together. We do not stand alone."
We do not stand alone.
I do not stand alone. I finally understand that I never did.
And now, I never will.
=/\=
Someday when we tell you the story, Katoha, we'll end with these words: Time is a rare and precious gift. Savor it. Use it wisely. Fill it with meaningful work that nurtures your soul and delightful play that makes you happy. Honor your roots, but make your own traditions. Question everything. Do what you know to be right, especially if it's hard. Tell the people who bring you joy that you love them. And never, ever lose your sense of wonder.
But you'll be asleep by then, snuggled into your Grandfather's side.
He will look at me, your beloved Shinli, with soft eyes set in a face that's lined with love and laughter, but no less handsome than the day we first met.
"I love that story," he'll whisper. "I never tire of hearing it."
"Or of telling it," I will respond, "especially the night before Prixin." Then I will rise and hold my hand out to him. "Come on, Old Man. Bed."
He will take my hand, his eyes full of mischief again. "It's still early, Kathryn. How about a soak in the hot tub first?"
I will roll my eyes at him. "You know where that will lead, Chakotay. And Igasho and Sarah will be here soon with their kids."
He will shrug. "He's our firstborn, Kathryn. It's not like he hasn't caught us in every conceivable compromising position. Including the one in which he was conceived, if I remember correctly."
I will groan out loud. "You're incorrigible," I will say. "You always were."
"I've been called worse," he will say. He will pull me along behind him toward our secluded backyard, shedding his clothes as he goes. "To the tub, Wife," he will order. "Are you with me?"
"Forever," I will reply.
As we make our way through the house, I will touch many glass vases filled with small stones.
Someday when I tell the story, I will end with these words: We had never had so much time on our hands.
I am grateful that we learned to cherish every moment of it.
-END-
Note: Thank you for making this journey with me. Your reviews and comments have humbled me beyond belief. Thank you also for indulging me, in these last three sections, in the writing of a love letter to a place Kathryn Janeway and I have very much in common. :-)
P.S. What's that? You think it needs an epilogue? Patience, Little Cat. Patience...