Title: Shreds and Shards
Summary: Following both her mother's tragic demise, and her father's sudden disappearance, can Nevaeh Kotay manage to save them both by altering the past? Endgame AU.
Timeline: Okay, readers, this is the final instalment of the 'When Two Become One' Trilogy. Whilst this could stand as a story on its own, for full clarity and understanding it's probably best if you've read them first. For those people who are like me, however, and just want to get on with reading the story, the timeline goes like this: Three years after Endgame, Seven dies on an away mission, just weeks after giving birth to a baby girl. Voyager returns home five years later. This story starts fifteen years after Voyager touches down on Earth. Feel free to just ask if you're still confused about the timeline; I still get a little puzzled myself ^_^.
Author's Note: Thank you to my beta, scifiromance! She's been such a rock lately, helping me through my moments of doubt with this story. Not that I'm cruising for reads/ reviews or anything (hint, hint), but I've just posted the first chapter of our first co-authored story 'Seven's Sins', so I'd recommend going to check that one out too. We'd both really appreciate the feedback : ) Also, my thanks to those who've been sticking with me through both the rewrites, and the new stories; the comments have been good so far, so let's keep them coming people :D
Reminiscent of a gentle, dying flame, the sunset overshadowed the monotonous city of San Francisco, captivating the tired citizens with its hypnotic allure. Streaks of inky night intermingled with the haze of violet in a combination so powerful that it almost eclipsed the remaining shards of burnt copper below. The dismal rainclouds from earlier had almost completely disappeared, their wispy, crimson remains almost intangible to the people below. The storm that had raged through the, normally peaceful, city had left the sky in a state of harmonious disrepair. Children of all ages lounged lazily in the streets; being sent out to play was somewhat exhausting in the humid heat of mid-August. Cafes, coffee houses, and bistros were dotted around the map, each one full of young workers and entrepreneurs. In one of these establishments, the Cafe Charmillion, two young women sat contemplating their near-future; each one apprehensive about their own fate. The brunette, dressed in a tasteful, grey work dress, was sipping a glass of orange juice; she'd been working at Starfleet Headquarters for a month under the watchful eye of her former Captain, Admiral Kathryn Janeway. The blonde, a picture in her flowing, bohemian-style dress, was eating the remains of her strawberry ice cream, considering the possibility of faking an illness to get out of tomorrow's ancient opera lesson. They'd known each other from a very young age, and had experienced almost all of their major milestones and events by the other's side.
"Do you think she'll cause a scene at the reunion tonight?" the blonde, Nevaeh Kotay asked her friend, Cleo Paris. Even though she'd only experienced life on Voyager for her first five years, it had been enough time for her to become acquainted with the fact that the Admiral did not look down favourably upon her. "I'll never forget what she said last year."
"Well, don't you worry," Cleo replied, "I don't think she's quite stupid enough to risk another little comment like that again. Mom and dad have already assured me that they'll keep a watch out for anything she might do. Besides, if she does start, I'll try and pull her aside to ask her some question about work; I have a million of them. Anyway, I've heard some particularly intriguing rumours about our favourite Admiral; rumours that she'd hate being spread."
"Rumours?" Nevaeh questioned, allowing a mischievous glint to sparkle in her dark blue eyes, "Feel like sharing, o' secretive one?"
"Well, we've been testing a lot of trial vaccines and medical supplies lately to make sure they're still working," Cleo replied, eager to share the 'dirt' she'd managed to uncover. She hadn't thought she'd be trusted with office gossip, having only been at her apprenticeship for five weeks, but it would seem that the members of the Admiral's staff weren't all that endeared to their boss. "Normally, it'd all be fine, but we had a security alert when one of the new experimental treatments went missing."
"I think I read about that online a couple of days ago," Nevaeh said, confused, "It was returned, right?"
"Yup. But after some scans we were able to detect traces of Macenitoa on it. You remember what Macenitoa is, right?"
"To be honest with you, Clee, I gave up on science when I left High School; I haven't got a clue."
"It's the stuff used in the new generation of replicators. Mom would be so offended if she were here..."
"Why?" Nevaeh asked; though she could see that Cleo was clearly joking, she didn't understand why her lack of scientific knowledge would offend her 'Auntie Bee'.
"Because it's named after us, remember? Before the twins were born. It's our initials with the first four vowels in between them," At Nevaeh's baffled expression, Cleo laughed, "It goes in birth order: 'M' for Miral, 'C' for Cleo, 'N' for Nevaeh, 'T' for Talia, and 'A' for Avia."
"Oh, right!" Nevaeh exclaimed, suddenly understanding, "I remember now; Auntie Bee spent years trying to create that formula after the deuterium supplies ran out. But what does it have to do with Janeway?"
"Like I said, there were traces of it on the inoculation; indicating that it had been replicated. We were all questioned, and the security lab team went through the entire building. We were all cleared, apart from one person."
"The Admiral?" Nevaeh guessed. She ascertained from the look on her friend's face that she was correct, and her brain started to conjure up wild possibilities. "Is there going to be some sort of new mission? Will it be one of those multi-year things? Are you leaving?" She rattled out scenario after scenario, becoming more perplexed as she watched Cleo's face turn from amusement to regret as she drew closer to the standing office theory. "But, she can't be? It's impossible, not to mention unethical! How is she even supposed to-"
"The inoculation is a highly experimental one. If all goes well, it will be used to treat radiation in deep-space missions. I hate to break it to you, 'Vaeh, but time travel's been around for longer than you realise. Your mother went through the space-time continuum several times when she was on Voyager. "
"My mother?" Nevaeh asked. She had been a baby when her mother had died; and although she'd been told many, many stories about the woman who'd called herself 'Seven', Nevaeh couldn't help but feel a sort of dissociation from her. "What do you mean?"
"It's hard to explain," Cleo answered, "All I can really remember from the lessons is that she got sent back through time over and over again. It ended with the arrest of some guy who'd tried to damage Voyager. I can't really remember the details." She looked worriedly at Nevaeh, whose face had become somewhat distorted with a mixture of confusion and concern. "But, anyway, it's all just speculation right now. Like I said, they're only rumours, but I doubt if the Admiral would like her old crew to find out about them."
"Yeah," Nevaeh agreed, distractedly. "Cleo, have you seen the log entries of the entire crew?"
"Pfft, I wish," Cleo snorted, "There's so many of them; both logs and crew. Admiral Taggart estimates that it would take five whole years to listen to every single Voyager log entry, and that's just back-to-back. I've seen a few ones from most of the crew. Why?"
"Have you seen any of my mother's?"
"Um, not very many; most of hers are protected by codes that even I can't figure out." Seeing that her friend was in danger of losing herself in the past again, Cleo asked the waiter for the bill. "What are you going to wear tonight 'Vaeh?"
"Huh?" Nevaeh murmured, snapping out of her reverie, "I haven't thought about it yet, you?"
"Me neither, I suppose we'd best get home and get ready. It starts in less than two hours."
The neutrally coloured apartment was decorated with helium balloons and multicoloured streamers; reminiscent of the hastily arranged 'welcome home' party the Voyager crew had received upon returning to Earth nearly fifteen years ago. The crew had aged, some more noticeably than others, and there were a number of excited children running about. Though there had been deaths, illnesses, and tragedies since Voyager's return, the former crewmates still held that air of camaraderie that had been ever-present during their time on the, now famous, ship.
"Doc! How are you?" The warm voice of Tom Paris greeted his old friend jovially, extending a hand before drawing the hologram into a friendly embrace. Voyager's former pilot still walked with a slight limp; his left leg had been severely damaged in a shuttle incident twenty years before. He didn't particularly mind it, and those close to him had grown used to his altered walking style; they'd all come to the conclusion that it was better than the 'alternative' realised by the long-gone crewmember, and friend, Seven Of Nine.
"Well, Mister Paris, what a welcome! I'm good, thank you, and yourself?"
"Same old, same old; the daughters have given me a few more grey hairs since the last time we were all here, but life couldn't be better."
"I'm glad to hear it. Have you had much time for writing lately? Your last novel was quite the success." In honesty, The Doctor was a little jealous of the former pilot's success in his creative endeavours; his own career in arts and opera hadn't exactly gotten off to a triumphant start.
"Unfortunately not. Starfleet have got me teaching trainee pilots for the foreseeable future, and B'Elanna's been wanting the whole family to take a vacation for quite a while now."
"And you are but a humble man, eh?" The Doctor joked, sharing a knowing smile with his former protégé. "Still, how are the ladies?"
"They're fine. Luna and Lexi start 'big girl' school in September, and Talia's applying to do a course in Xenobiology at Croughtons. Avia's going up to High School next year, so it's been a bit of a rush to get everything done. Cleo and Nevaeh are doing well too; they've just bought an apartment together. Miral's graduated from the Academy at long last; she's travelling out to join the other Klingons at Korath's sacred temple."
"How time flies; it's good to hear that they're all okay. Especially Miral; it seems like she was born just yesterday, and now she's twenty three!"
"It's odd, isn't it? Do you feel old, having a fully grown woman for a Goddaughter?"
"I don't know Mister Paris, do you feelold having a fully grown woman for a daughter?" The Doctor shot back; the conversations between them had become less strained over the years, and now that he wasn't responsible for training Tom to be a Medical Assistant, he found more humour in the man's words.
"Touché, Doc; I see you've gotten better with your comebacks since last year. But anyway, enough about us; is there a special somebody in your life yet?"
"Not as such. But there is this one woman, Lana. She's working as a psychiatric nurse at Starfleet Memorial. We've been out to dinner a few times, but nothing's come of it so far."
"Keep trying, Doc, she'd be crazy not to take things further. I take it she's human then?"
"Well done, Mister Paris; it would be absurd for two holograms to go out to dinner, considering that it's somewhat impossible for us to eat." The Doctor was amused by Tom's confusion. "Besides, I'd have thought that, in this day and age, we'd be able to look beyond matters such as race."
"Are you kidding? I think it's great; I'm in a mixed marriage myself."
"Ah yes," The Doctor said, smiling warmly, "Where is that wife of yours?"
...
"The High Council have a lot of questions," B'Elanna warned. She was concerned about Admiral Janeway; the older woman had been overly interested in the Federation's new dealings with the Klingons. The two women stood apart from the general group, speaking in hushed tones. It was, admittedly, becoming something of a task for B'Elanna to keep her voice quiet, but she was becoming increasingly aware of the various children running around the room, and didn't want to ruin the atmosphere of the reunion for them.
Somewhat alarmed, Janeway replied, "What did you tell them?"
"The truth," she replied, before deciding to tease a little, "With a Klingon twist. I told them that my former Captain, who had saved my life many times in battle, would be honoured to enter Korath's sacred temple."
"Did it work?" enquired Janeway, somewhat incredulous.
Resignedly, B'Elanna said, "Well, I'm only the Federation Liaison, but I'd like to think that I have some influence." After a brief pause, she tentatively asked, "You still haven't told me why you're trying to help Korath. Does it have anything to do with why my daughter's being sent out there?"
"B'Elanna, you know that I can't tell you that."
"Yes you could. I know protocol, Admiral, but this is my daughter we're talking about."
"All I can say is that she will be working closely with the scientists. We're going to do our best to keep her as far away from harm as possible, but it's a very dangerous place."
"You think that I don't know that, Admiral? I'm sorry if I'm coming across as rude here, but it just seems to me like you're playing Russian Roulette with my daughter's life!"
"Calm down, B'Elanna." Janeway snapped, "There's no need to get hysterical, and make a scene. She'll be fine."
"Who are you to tell me how I should act?" B'Elanna replied, outraged. "My daughter's life is on the line, and all you can do is tell me not to 'make a scene'. The last time you ordered me not to get hysterical, Seven died, and I nearly lost my husband. You have no idea what you're talking about." With that, the former Chief Engineer walked away from the Admiral, who stood there with her arms crossed and an affronted look on her face.
"What's wrong, mom?" Cleo said, running over and wrapping her arms around her mother, "I just saw you talking to the Admiral; what did she say?"
"Yeah, Auntie Bee, she's not giving you any hassle, is she?" Nevaeh asked. She had become even warier of the Admiral in the past year, having been on the end of a particularly spiteful comment.
"No, girls, I'm fine," she replied, drawing Nevaeh into the embrace. "She's just being her usual self. When did you two get here?"
"About ten minutes ago," Nevaeh replied. "We only took so long because somebody couldn't decide what to wear."
"I know, 'Vaeh, you took ages..."
"You liar!" Nevaeh pouted, crossing her arms in an act of mock offence. "Yeah, okay, maybe a little. But you definitely took the longest."
"Did not!"
"Did so!"
"Did not!"
"Girls! It's hard to believe that you're both in your twenties; you're acting like the twins." B'Elanna admonished jokingly; she knew that they were only playing around. She'd come to know the difference between their fake fighting and their real battles from raising the two of them through their teenage years. Upon hearing their, obviously insincere murmurs of 'Sorry mom', and 'I'm sorry, Auntie Bee', she laughed, before walking them over to see some old friends.
"May I have your attention everyone?" Admiral Janeway asked, standing at the head of the table. She'd obviously composed herself after the heated exchange with B'Elanna, and was about to give the 'survivor's speech'. "It's hard to believe that Voyager first set out from Starfleet over thirty years ago with hopes of returning home within the year. It would have made our lives a lot easier if that had been the case, but now, I couldn't imagine life any other way. I'm glad that everybody who's been able to come is here, and I hope that you'll all be coming for many more years. But let's just take a moment to remember those of us who cannot be here." The atmosphere in the room became maudlin, everybody remembering their own losses. The people who'd been in Engineering remembered Joe Carey, the man that would have become their Chief Engineer had the job not been given to B'Elanna; she still mourned his death, even though twenty-three years had passed. Naomi Wildman and her mother remembered Neelix, the friendly Talaxian who'd rarely failed in his attempts to brighten up both Voyager, and its crew. Those who'd been in the Maquis remembered the friends and comrades they'd had before joining the Starfleet crew; knowing that they'd have endured the same cruel fate had they not been lucky enough to run into Voyager. "I hope you have a good night." The Admiral said, shaking the 'family' from its thoughts.
...
The four walls of the living room were painted in a creamy chocolate colour. It was a complete mishmash of cultures; both Klingon paraphernalia and tribal figurines had their place. A large coffee table was placed in the center of the room, covered with Cleo's work papers and Nevaeh's music sheets. Several scented candles were scattered on the shelves, most of them lit. Nevaeh was curled up on the largest chair, fully enveloped in her large blanket as she juggled a piece of strawberry tart and a mug of hot chocolate. Despite the fact that it was still summer, the weather had been getting colder and colder.
"Well, it was nowhere as bad as last year." Cleo said, sitting down on the couch with her bowl of chocolate pudding. "I thought that she was going to start going on about the deaths when she called for those few minute's silence, but it was okay."
"I suppose," Nevaeh replied, after taking another mouthful of her strawberry tart. "But it would have been better if she'd just have kept her mouth shut. I know that it's important that we honour the dead, Cleo, but it totally ruined the party. I didn't see little Sabrina smile again for the whole night. It's not really appropriate to dull the mood of a party so much that a three-year-old feels she can't laugh and play."
"I agree; she should have slipped it in at the end. But still, there's always next year; maybe she'll get better at this whole 'speech' thing."
"Or we could just get Uncle Tom to do it. He'd have the whole place in stitches, and manage not to kill the atmosphere after."
"Yeah," Cleo said, laughing at the thought of her father trying to be serious in front of a whole room of people. "What do you think we should do about Janeway anyway?"
"If I were you," Nevaeh said, "I'd wait for some more concrete proof. Let's not forget, you could be horribly wrong; if you were to take this to the courts a whole load of checks would have to be done. If you're wrong you'll lose your job."
"I guess." Cleo agreed, resignedly, before perking up when she heard the replicator ping, "On another note, do you want some Chinese food? I managed to steal the rest of the leftovers from the reunion."
"That's not very nice," Nevaeh said, laughing softly, "Janeway might have wanted to eat that."
"Oh well," Cleo replied, shrugging her shoulders noncommittally, "Sucks to be her."