A/n: Thanks to my beta, NikkiB1973 for her support for this story. I do not own Star Trek: Voyager.

The small portrait of innumerable individual stars that was framed by the window was as consistent, as silent and unreachably compelling, as any she'd ever seen in the Delta Quadrant, either contorted by a warp field or not. Of course, in a detached sense, it was an unremarkable patch, as easily catalogued by Astrometrics sensors as any other, but for her crew, what she seeing out there was special. These stars formed the sky above their home.

The Wildmans' quarters, mid-ship port, were not currently orientated towards Earth, though its Moon was visible. That moon, the rough pearl to the planet's 'big blue marble' controlled the tides of the seas most of this crew had played in as children. She never had, or at least couldn't recall ever doing so. Naomi would still have the opportunity, if she didn't consider herself too mature for such things. She felt her breath catch, and began to twist her head away from the view that brought her less pleasure every time she risked looking out. However, the distinctive flash of phaser fire briefly burning her corneas commanded her attention. Instinctively, she braced herself for the impact, protectively moving closer to Naomi's bed, but the shot wasn't aimed for Voyager. The 'culprit' vessel drifted, almost serenely, past and unbidden she thought of Lieutenant Paris' story of the Titanic and the iceberg. NCC-71847. U.S.S. Churchill. Federation classification: Galaxy class. Engaged in the battle of Sector 012, en-route to Sector 001, also known as Wolf 359. Elimination assigned to Cube 11256, Cube 11257 and Sphere 11309. 453 individuals assimilated, 367 killed prior to assimilation. Approximately 200 individuals ejected in emergency pods, deemed irrelevant. Vessel eliminated. Serious damage sustained by Sphere 11309, 3407 drones deactivated. Minor damage sustained by Cube 11256, 987 drones deactivated...

She blinked, leadenly. Exhaustion washed over her as the memories, the stream of utterly detached data, repeated itself through her mind as an echo. Her fingers dug deep into her skin, trying and failing to flatten the gooseflesh that had erupted as she started at the vessel. NCC-71847-B. Her eyesight had been tricked by her insistent Borg recall, this vessel was a replacement, merely christened with the same name. How many of the original incarnation's crew were serving abroad her? How many were haunted by those living people who would never be replaced in their loved ones' hearts as their ship had been replaced by Starfleet? Watching how this new ship flanked Voyager, just as, she knew, there was another vessel on the starboard side, she realised they were scrutinising the area for the debris of the Sphere. The Sphere Voyager had used, like the mythical Trojan Horse, to traverse the transwarp conduit. Blasting fragments with phasers was a waste of energy, it was gone, 'blown to smithereens' to use Ensign Kim's phrase, useless to the Collective. Perhaps ensuring that even those 'smithereens' had been eliminated was a reassuring act for Starfleet and the crew of the Churchill. Who was she to deny them that? Her experience wasn't exactly a testament to the idea that the threat of the Collective could be underestimated. The Federation couldn't afford to emulate Troy, even with Voyager as a real gift. She shuddered, arms tightening around herself as she remembered that Starfleet wasn't averse to beaming 'intact' drones aboard for medical research... The Churchill's approach, at that moment, struck her as cleaner, unambiguous. There wouldn't be any picking of Borg bones today. Voyager's return was a triumph...

"Seven?" Naomi's voice pulled her firmly back into the interior of the ship rather than its exterior. "Are you okay?"

"Naomi Wildman." She stated, more sharply than she intended as she tried to supress her start of fright and turned composedly to meet the girl's surprisingly alert gaze. Had she even been asleep? "I am fine." She answered belatedly, shakily. Naomi's astute eyes flicked momentarily to the foot of the bed, fine brows drawn down in concern, and Seven saw she had sat down on the bed without realising. "I apologise." She murmured as she sprang back up onto her feet then turned back to smooth the corner of duvet she'd mussed. "Did I wake you?"

"No." Naomi replied firmly, "How could I possibly sleep right now?" Seven noticed she tried to emphasise her point with a roll of the eyes she'd come to associate with adolescents. "We're in the orbit of Earth Seven, Earth!"

Her tone, a mixture of incredulity and curious excitement, was familiar enough that Seven relaxed slightly, her lips quirking upwards. "I am well aware of that." She reminded her wryly, unconsciously pausing for a deep breath before continuing, "But I am also aware that two full detachments of Starfleet engineers and scientists are going to be arriving at 0600 hours to conduct a comprehensive survey of Voyager. As it is now 0302 hours, I suggest you sleep now, while the ship is undisturbed." Her sense of accuracy made her almost retract the last comment, Voyager was far from undisturbed, the celebrations were now in their eighth hour, but she knew that giving Naomi any fresh reminder of that would banish sleep from the child's mind and replace it with resentment at what she could be missing out on. It would be conveniently forgotten that she'd only been brought here because she'd been falling asleep on her feet in the Mess Hall earlier.

Naomi echoed Seven by inhaling sharply at the mention of the upcoming Starfleet onslaught. Her face went defensively blank, unreadable, for an instant. It was an expression learned in trauma that lent her face an unnerving maturity. "I guess." She agreed, voice tight, before she shrugged and her face lightened again. "But I'm awake now so…" The covers were thrown back to prove her point and she sat up fully in bed, looking around her. "What were you looking at? Can we finally see Earth from…" Her eyes bugged out comically as they found Voyager's companion vessel. "Cool! Is that a Galaxy class ship? Is it the Enterprise? It could be ferrying the top brass to see the Captain…"

Seven had to wonder where Naomi had picked up the term 'top brass' but dismissed it as an irrelevance as she fielded Naomi's other questions, all asked in one breath, no doubt to make room in her mind for more. "Yes, it's a Galaxy class vessel, but not the Enterprise." She told her quickly, "As for Starfleet's 'top brass', I believe they will wait for the Captain to come to them."

Naomi's face dipped in disappointment, but only momentarily. "I would've liked to see the Enterprise, it's so famous…" A smile of realisation slowly dawned on her face, "But I suppose Voyager is just as famous now." She caught Seven's tiny wince at that and her smile became reassuring, "Don't worry Seven, it won't be like with the Qomar." She hesitated thoughtfully, "Well, we might get some fan mail, I don't know, but with the fame spread around the whole crew this time, we probably won't all get a big ego like the Doctor did."

Seven felt a chuckle rise in her throat despite herself. "I would hope not." She agreed, "The Doctor merely has an unfortunate predisposition." Remembering Naomi's impressionable age, not wanting to besmirch the Doctor's reputation in her eyes, she amended, "But he learned the error of his actions in that instance."

"Yeah." Naomi conceded somewhat doubtfully, but her attention was already returning to Voyager's new neighbour in orbit. "Do you know which ship it is, if it's not the Enterprise? My Dad has met the crews of most Starfleet vessels, because so many are heading through DS9 at the moment…"

As part of the reconstruction efforts after the Dominion War, Seven silently finished. She respected Starfleet's policy of being magnanimous in victory, and she had no reason, no right, on her own account to feel anything different about the fact they were extending it to the Cardassians now, but despite all that the thickness in her throat was layered with more than her guilt over the Churchill. Were Starfleet prioritising Chakotay's homeworld or leaving it behind again? Were whatever colonial refugees not wiped out with the Maquis now forced to coexist once more with their, now equally dejected, Cardassian brethren awaiting Federation aid? "It is the U.S.S. Churchill." She finally told Naomi quietly, noticing the girl was awaiting her answer.

Naomi didn't pick up on her shift of mood, still gazing at the ship in rapture; she'd shuffled up her bed, elbows resting on the headboard as she looked over it. "That's the first Starfleet vessel I've ever seen, other than Voyager." She whispered, then bit down on her lip, "I…I don't count the Equinox."

Seven put a soothing hand on her thin back, she was cold. "You do not have to." She assured her as she wrapped a blanket around Naomi's shoulders, sensing that she felt she needed permission. Naomi rarely opened up about her feelings about any of Voyager's more traumatic ordeals, but Seven had been seriously, though privately, unsettled by the incident herself and Naomi had been worried enough about her that she'd sought her out, and Seven had immediately realised that the still young girl had been badly shaken. As much as her mother, Neelix and the rest of the crew had tried to shield her, aliens appearing from another dimension to pounce vengefully on anyone was terrifying to adults, let alone a child.

Naomi nodded slowly, remaining silent for a moment before adding. "There was Captain Braxton's ship too…the Aeon, but I'm too young to remember that." Her brow furrowed, "Wait…that means I've been to Earth too, 20th Century Earth. I wish I could remember that, I could've seen Captain Proton in a real movie house."

Seven smiled ruefully at the regret in her voice. "If I recall the report correctly, the crew travelled back to 1996, Captain Proton is based on the science-fiction of the 1930s."

"Oh." Naomi muttered, uttering a sound between a sigh and a giggle. "Maybe the Captain's right and time travel does cause headaches." She flushed, remembering what had brought them here. "Admiral Janeway was so brave, I'm glad she broke the Temporal Prime Directive…"

Seven exhaled, the knot of nausea in her stomach that had formed at the mention of 24th Century timeships tightening as she thought of the Admiral's fate, her last sentient moments no doubt infected by the Collective. When Naomi had brought up Braxton and the Aeon, she'd had to stop herself from checking that the Relativity hadn't been summoned to correct the Admiral's meddling. Part of her had been expecting it since the Admiral's arrival, but they hadn't materialised. The Captain, the only other who knew of her experience on that ship, had concluded with her in private, somewhat wryly, that they must be letting this particular temporal incursion pass them by. Maybe this incursion was part of their timeline? Or perhaps they'd helped the Admiral along in the first place? She gulped hard and rubbed her temple, time paradoxes did cause headaches. She hoped that Ducane, or even Braxton, understood they owed Voyager's crew this, this loophole. "As am I." She admitted thickly, "The Admiral was indeed brave, but that has always been one of Captain Janeway's attributes as well."

Naomi of course agreed emphatically, but still appeared subdued as she suddenly drew back from hanging over her headboard and shifted to sit demurely on the edge of the bed, head bowed. "Seven, what's going to happen now?" she mumbled.

Seven herself shifted uncomfortably as she regarded her warily. She couldn't admit to her young friend, as she had to Chakotay in a conversation that now felt frighteningly long ago, though had only in reality occurred the day before, that she had no idea. "Have you discussed it with your mother?" she asked carefully.

"Well…" Naomi began haltingly, "Dad's on his way here from DS9, but that'll take days or weeks. Mom says until he gets here we'll stay with my aunt, her sister, and when I asked what we'll do after that, she said that we'll figure it out." From her hesitant beginning, the words now tumbled out of her.

Seven felt a bolt of empathy for Samantha Wildman, having to cope with Naomi's uncertainty as well as her own, and she could see from Naomi's face that she was enduring as much guilt as apprehension. "I am sure you will 'figure it out'." She comforted her awkwardly, floundering on what she could possibly say that wouldn't make the girl feel worse. "I have been told…" She corrected herself, "I believe that experiencing apprehension, uncertainty, fear, is a natural response in our situation." She began bravely, "As natural, perhaps, as happiness…" Her voice, already wobbly, betrayed her and cracked.

She stiffened in surprise as Naomi's arms were suddenly around her neck, pulling her towards a hug. Self-consciously, but with feeling, she gently returned the hug, hearing Naomi sniff near her ear. "Will I still see the crew? Will I still see you and Icheb and Harry and Tom and…"

"Naomi…" She began, certain now. "This crew may be leaving Voyager, but they will not be leaving you. I know I will not be, and I believe the others would allow me to speak for them in this regard."

Naomi drew back from her enough to reveal her relieved smile, though it was also tearful and exhausted. "We'll still need to adapt, correct?" she asked staunchly.

"Yes." Seven sad firmly, relieved that she understood. "But we are still…family."

Naomi beamed at her, "The Voyager family." She declared confidently, "No matter who else comes aboard or where we go when we leave."

"That's right honey." Samantha Wildman's soft voice murmured behind them, and as they both turned in surprise they saw that she saw standing in the bedroom's threshold, smiling warmly. Obviously she'd overheard at least the latter part of their heartfelt conversation. "I don't think Captain Janeway herself could've put it better."

A grin flashed briefly across Naomi's face at the compliment, but she still said, visibly fighting the urge to yawn. "The Captain has called us a family before, lots of times." She recalled, "So I can't take…" Finally a prolonged yawn did interrupt her, "…all the credit."

Seven, slowly rising back to her full height, having crouched awkwardly for the hug, shook her head slightly. "Still, she would be glad to hear you echo the sentiment."

Naomi's brow scrunched as she drew her legs back up onto the bed, though she wasn't quite ready to surrender to inevitability and crawl back under the covers. "My last duty as the Captain's assistant." She mumbled sadly.

Seven was stricken. Her stomach churned as she drew an absolute blank on how to respond to that, let alone offer comfort. Any more than she could comfort herself over her own future prospects. Samantha, thankfully, had no such hesitation, and her face was calm as she faced her daughter. "Naomi, baby…" She began gently, taking her turn at kneeling now while absently smoothing wisps of sleep tousled hair behind Naomi's ear. "You're going to have plenty of other…duties, growing up and fun, to do on Earth. Voyager has been a big part of your…of our lives, and it always will be, but we're moving onto a new challenge, all of the crew are." She leaned in close, until her forehead brushed Naomi's Ktarian horns, her voice thick with emotion, "You're only six years old. You have your whole life ahead of you, here in the Alpha Quadrant…"

Now Samantha was pulled into one of Naomi's hugs. "Are you happy Mom?" she asked earnestly.

Samantha briefly buried her head into her shoulder as she tightened the hug. "Yes, I'm very happy." She admitted in a whisper.

Naomi smiled at her serenely, though not before catching Seven's eye over her mother's shoulder, her jaw forming a determined line. "Then it's worth it, leaving Voyager I mean. I will adapt and be happy."

Seven, though she suddenly felt like an intruder, still felt the full impact of Naomi's words. With her Ktarian genes gifting her with a particularly sharp memory, Seven had no doubt that the girl could recall their conversation after the 'Pitcher Plant' incident almost as clearly as she herself could. If Earth made their crew happy, they should embrace it… Samantha was replying, relieved and joyful. "I'm so glad to hear you say that sweetheart…" Still hugging Naomi, she firmly coaxed her to lie down, laughing quietly to herself, as if too many emotions were bubbling up to express themselves in any other way. "But if you're going to have the proper energy to begin to adapt to Earth, you should be getting as much sleep as you can right now." She glanced wryly back at Seven, "Isn't that right Seven?"

"Yes." Seven confirmed at once, "For definite."

"Okay, okay, I can see where this conversation is headed…" Naomi grumbled sleepily, curling up under the covers her mother stubbornly pulled around her. "Goodnight Seven." She added more good-naturedly, remembering her manners.

"Goodnight." Seven replied with feeling, agitation rising to combat the grief that assaulted her. Irrational grief, this wasn't a goodbye. Not in the literal sense, a persistent voice in her mind whispered, but your life here, with these people, is ending. She retreated from Naomi's bedroom back into the quarters' main living space, making a beeline for the door out into the corridor before stopping herself. A discreet goodbye to Ensign Wildman was in order, she was uncomfortably self-aware of the fact that it would be rude to just leave after presuming to comfort Naomi. Sitting down on the couch to wait did not occur to her, and when Sam left her daughter's bedroom she found Seven still hovering by the door. Hovering was not a word strangers would've used, since she was standing stock still, contained and intimidating, but Sam knew her well enough by now to see that Seven only put that front on when she was at her most uneasy.

"Thank you for watching her Seven."

"It was my pleasure." Seven answered. That set reply, memorised long ago, was one she generally dismissed as contrived, but it left her lips honestly, if shyly, now. "Did you enjoy your party?" she asked stiltedly as she peered into the other woman's face in concern. The glorious, triumphant flush that had diffused her face, all of their faces, at the height of the celebrations had drained away from Samantha's features, leaving her looking drawn and exhausted under the quarters' unsympathetic lighting.

Sam's face lit up, and for a moment the awe-struck delight of earlier filled her eyes. "Oh yes. All my friends from the Beta shift had taken over Holodeck 1, it was quite the night." She blinked, as if waking from a dream, "It got emotional." She admitted, "I've known everyone for over seven years, and now…"

Seven froze as she saw tears start to slide down the other woman's cheeks. "Ensign Wildman…"

Samantha hastily wiped her eyes as she saw Seven's guilty, inadequate, deer in the headlights expression. "I'm alright Seven." She assured her hurriedly, "I just…I never thought we'd get here." She shook her head in painful disbelief, "Everything that's happened, everything I've had to put Naomi through…"

Seven gratefully grasped the opportunity to say something that would be of assistance. "You are the one who has always been there for her, our situation has never been of your making…"

Sam grimaced, "No, but…" She swallowed hard, "I've always had to try to accept that we're in danger, that Naomi's in danger, or that anything might take me from her, and that's over. She'll meet Gresk, she'll get to have other children around her. I just can't believe it…" She laughed hoarsely, "I keep expecting to wake up."

Seven thought back to her anxieties over the Relativity. "As do I, figuratively." She admitted awkwardly as she took a penitent step towards her, "I apologise Ensign. I should have endeavoured to be more…positive with Naomi…"

"No." Samantha cut her off, "You said what she was needing to hear, and you were the right person to say it." She told her emphatically, "I know it's going to be hard on her, this ship is all she's ever known. I can try to understand that, but I can't relate." She hesitated, worried she had offended the younger woman, but if anything Seven looked relieved. Bridging the physical gap Seven had been too afraid to cross, she lightly touched her arm. "How are you?"

Seven automatically straightened her shoulders. "I will ada…" She started robotically, then felt the Borg adage die on her lips, instead bowing her head in concession. "You are correct in saying that I can relate to Naomi."

Samantha regarded her intently, concerned. "Do you have somewhere to go? On Earth I mean?" she asked impulsively. "I know Naomi would love to insist you stay with us if…"

"No." Seven told her firmly, "But thank you Ensign." As it had when the Captain and Harry had made her similarly sincere, well-meaning offers, it cost her something to turn down, but she stuck to the principle she'd decided on. "I will be accommodated without imposing on others. I am certain your family require time alone with you and Naomi."

Samantha was guiltily thankful that Seven had turned down her spur of the moment invitation. Her own reunion with her family would be precious. She also recognised that as friendly and open as she could be, Naomi would undoubtedly cling to Seven in a sea of strangers if she had the chance. Seeing that Seven perceived that truth too made her like the ex-drone more for her own sake, rather than as merely a good, responsible, if unorthodox, friend to Naomi. "Well, remember that you're welcome to impose, okay?" she replied with genuine warmth.

"I will." Seven assured her quietly, "I meant what I said to Naomi, I will be there when she requires me." She turned back towards the door to take her leave, "Goodnight Ensign."

"Looking for Bloomington?"

Janeway turned her head sharply away from the window at the sound of Chakotay's voice, though it took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust from being fixated on the dazzling lights of Earth below her, drawing her in like a moth to a flame, to settle on the everyday familiarity of Chakotay's face. "I'm holding out until I can see it in person." She replied warmly, "But for your reference…" Smilingly, her finger hovered over the window as she scanned the darkened North American continent, sleeping while also, from here, appearing lit up like a Christmas tree. She found the landmark white patch of Arctic Canada and moved down, letting her finger fall on an appropriate lattice of lights in the American Midwest. "…it's somewhere around there."

Chakotay zeroed in on the area. "I think that might be Toronto." He commented wryly, "You got misdirected around the Great Lakes."

Janeway laughed as her hand dropped back to her side in embarrassment. "My elementary teachers would be so proud!" she joked with a shake of her head, "Earth's geography was never my strong suit."

"I think you'll be forgiven that, considering how much of the Delta Quadrant you've led us through." Chakotay assured her.

"It wasn't just me who got us back Chakotay." She reminded him emphatically, but then her lips twisted grimly for a moment, "I think the Admiral can count as an extraordinary exception to that rule, but…" She trailed off, and was glad when Chakotay didn't jump in, but let the silence hang. She would be faced with enough psycho-analysis in the days to come from Starfleet Chiefs and counsellors, more qualified than Chakotay perhaps but who wouldn't read her a quarter as well. She turned fully away from the window and took in the Mess Hall. Its celebrating congregation had dwindled somewhat without her noticing, but there were enough stubborn, chattering stragglers to maintain the electric atmosphere. "It was all of us." She murmured, concluding her point succinctly as her eyes swept over the flushed, beaming faces. "Speaking of all of us, where is everyone else?" The room had been crammed almost to capacity just hours before, as corks were popped on bottles of real alcohol that had been squirreled away, held back for this impossible day and there was an open floor for speeches. "I hope no one has jumped ship on me now." There was a note of strain to those words, despite the light-hearted tone she fought to maintain. Throughout this night she'd finally begun to understand Chakotay's aversion to Starfleet bureaucracy as she'd fought for Voyager and its crew to be brought down to Earth as soon as possible. Her superior officers, she'd have to get used to having them again, had however been more cautious. The appropriate procedure must be applied, though she knew there wasn't one. If they were making said rules up on the hoof, couldn't she and her crew bend them one last time?

Chakotay shrugged, "I wouldn't put it past some of them to try, but mostly people have gathered in smaller groups all around the ship." He too let his eyes skim over the faces around him and though he saw happiness, relief, giddy disbelief, he also saw that many people's expressions and actions had a frenetic edge. With realisation of a goal came the fear of change. The big hurrah was ebbing, and the big goodbye was looming. He shook himself out of it. Maybe he was projecting.

His Captain saw the shift in him, and she suspected that as he neglected to focus on any one face he was searching for one in particular. Seven had long since left to watch over Naomi to give Samantha the chance to be with her friends, and she didn't think Seven had ever returned to a party after she'd been given a chance to leave. But then, Seven had been surprising her a lot lately. Surprise didn't quite cover what she'd felt when the Admiral had revealed that future relationship. It hadn't taken long, with that bit of insider knowledge, to see that the relationship was already, and apparently had been, budding under her nose. She'd didn't think she'd ever forget the soothing relief that had washed over her, while still stinging from the Admiral's demise, when she'd ordered Chakotay to the helm and Seven had soon moved to stand beside him. More than once she'd caught Chakotay's hand leaving the console to squeeze Seven's, and their stoic masks slipped to reveal beaming smiles she'd so rarely seen from either. That, even more than the sight of Earth, had assured her that the Admiral's actions had been in the right, Temporal Prime Directive be damned. Still, everything had its consequences. "How are your crew holding up with all this?"

Chakotay's eyes shot warily to her face. However much necessity and time had blurred the dividing lines between Maquis and Starfleet, and between the two of them, references to 'my crew' and 'your crew' had always been, if not taboo, then at least the verbal starting pistol for any confrontation between them. He felt himself exhale as he saw nothing but frank, and genuine, concern on her face. She didn't need to continually urge him that they were one crew anymore, that he had to surrender his leadership role over the Maquis to her, finally they were completely one. It was ironic that, just as they'd achieved that, the realities of 'home' life would inevitably divide them all again, at least at first. "We're happy of course." He answered her, "But it's going to be another challenge. Earth isn't home for a lot of them, just a hell of a lot closer to it than where we were."

"I hope it can be a home in time, just like Voyager has been, but yes it'll be difficult Chakotay." Janeway told him honestly, "I've been going over the details of the Maquis Amnesty with Admiral Paris." She admitted with a sigh, "It was designed for the survivors of the joint Cardassian-Dominion attack, so they could join the Federation ranks as smoothly as possible…" She acknowledged Chakotay's cynical grunt with a nod, "Our situation is different because we were never affected by that war…"

Chakotay appreciated her use of the word 'our', not that he'd ever really doubted that Kathryn would stand in their corner, but he couldn't let the implied sentiment stand. "We never redeemed ourselves…" He muttered sarcastically.

Janeway squeezed his arm hard, "Seven years exemplary service on the U.S.S. Voyager will count towards that." She vowed determinedly, "Not only are you going to get your field ranks validated, but promotion too."

"We'd appreciate that." Chakotay said warmly, smiling. He didn't envy those who would be sent to argue with her over that point. Rolling his shoulders wearily he confided, "I'm going to be talking to every one of my people individually to see what they want…"

"Forming a game plan against Starfleet Commander?" She actually winked at him even as her brow rose.

Chakotay shook his head ruefully, "Just anticipating them so we can have our best chance of success." He responded, "As for me, I'm thinking of trying civilian life for a while."

Kathryn had never been good at hiding her initial, strong, reactions to anything and her incredulous expression was almost comically vivid before she recovered. She felt a stab of guilt as Chakotay, also characteristically, made no response to that other than a tightening of his jaw. She gave him a wanly apologetic smile, "If I'm honest, I just can't imagine you as a civilian." She admitted.

"Well, I've never been one in my adult life as yet." Chakotay replied. There was a nip in his tone, though it was good-natured enough as he regarded her speculatively. "I could say the same about you Kathryn."

Kathryn answered with her distinctive throaty chuckle. "And you'd be right. Even before I joined the Academy I was a Starfleet brat." She cast a fleeting, skittish glance out the window again as she ran a weary hand over her face. "Even before I got this commission and our journey started, I hadn't been back to Bloomington in five years." She muttered, her lips twisting painfully, "And I certainly won't be going back to the apartment I shared with Mark…" She halted, angry with herself for saying so much.

Chakotay had always known that the 'farm girl done good' image Kathryn liked to project was partially smoke and mirrors. Yes, her main family home had been in the plains of Indiana, but her father had been a Starfleet Captain and her young life before his death had been transient, relatively cosmopolitan. It was only after her father's early death that she'd been confined to rural life. Her conflicted ideal of home, the need for one, reflected a great deal in his mind. "We're all going to have to start over somewhat." He conceded gently, "But I know that you'll be able to find your feet."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Kathryn told him warmly, taking a few moments to study his face. These years had taken their toll on him, but as she sought out the sharp edges, the suppressed volatility of their early years together, it wasn't there. At some point he'd settled for what they, Voyager, had. When had that happened? It had been a source of frustration, seeing that realism as she fought the Delta Quadrant, and the memories still niggled at her, but as she struggled now with the thought of leaving Voyager, she wondered if he'd infected her somewhere along the line. But, she thought wryly, perhaps she'd changed him too. She could remember vividly when Chakotay had stood before her and honestly asked her how much humanity she really saw in Seven. That perspective had changed somewhere too. She knew there was speculation among the crew about her relationship with Chakotay now that they were in sight of leaving the chains of command behind, but in reality such talk was all the more ludicrous now. Perhaps at one time, but their bond was like a gnarled old tree, forced to form a protective canopy over their crew, and strong for that growth, but it was storm battered. To expect the nature of that tree to change, to bear romantic fruit, was as impossible as an oak morphing into an apple tree. Speaking of storms, she had no idea how to convey many of them to Starfleet Command… "I'm going to need it, I've got a hell of a lot of debriefings to get through…"

Chakotay smirked at her, "I'd say that we've seen one prediction of promotion…"

"That was a different timeline." Kathryn cut him off harshly, then added in a whisper, "Thank God."

Chakotay nodded heavily, "Yes." He took a step back, looking into her eyes frankly, "You're just going to have to remind Starfleet to let some things go." He stated shortly, and Janeway knew from the sudden flare of emotion in his quiet eyes that he was thinking of Seven more than his own ambiguous status. "We were in an extraordinary situation."

"Letting go can be difficult." She reminded him, hands curling in at her sides.

Chakotay's face darkened, "Don't we both know that already?" he replied resignedly. He'd been gone over seven years, and the situation in the DMZ, on his homeworld, was as tragic as ever. He'd have to live with that.

A/n: Please review. :) I've already written the rest of this story, so when it's been beta-read and edited, I'll post it.