Kathryn Janeway paced restlessly across her living room, replaying Lt. Commander Eelo Talia's words over and over again in her head.

"Kathryn," the counselor had said, "break-ups can be coped with much easier than the guilt of missed chances. If my parents taught me anything, it's that love is worth even greater risks than that."

Had it really been three months since Chakotay's former pilot had sat in her ready room, nervously fidgeting with the creases in her uniform, struggling to sort out whether she was genuinely in love with Harry Kim? It was a shocking moment of vulnerability for the thirty-year-old Bajoran woman, who was usually so adept at observing and correctly interpreting emotional and behavioral patterns. She was a counselor by training, after all—and a damn good one at that. But, perhaps being good at recognizing things in others did not necessarily translate into being good at recognizing things inside of oneself.

Kathryn paused mid-pace, her brow furrowing at the thought. Somewhere in her mind, the wiser part of her psyche turned that assessment back to her like a mirror. Indeed, it doesn't, Kathryn. You showed her the true nature of her feelings that day. And, now, she's returned the favor.

So much had happened since that day in her ready room; Kathryn and Chakotay had been forced by an alien virus to remain alone on an isolated planet, where they had both eventually accepted they would spend the rest of their lives. Brick by brick, her former first officer had been dismantling the wall that Kathryn had protectively built between them. It was mostly constructed from things like duty, protocol, command structure, and professionalism—things that had no longer held them back from one another on that planet as they had on Voyager. But, there were more components to the wall, as well—fear of losing him the way she had lost Justin, guilt at breaking her promise of forever to Mark, unease at the idea of beginning a relationship that would be so inescapably complicated. Those bricks did not slip out of place so easily, yet even she couldn't deny by the end of their stay that he had begun to shift them out of place.

Then, came the hail from Tuvok; he had disobeyed orders and gone to the Vidiians for the cure. After returning to Voyager and receiving the treatment, Kathryn had immediately gone over Tuvok's logs—and then Talia's, whom the ever-wise Vulcan had chosen as his first officer rather than letting the post slide past her onto Tom Paris. They had been a good command team, it seemed, but Talia had struggled to cope with the emotional fallout. Even so, she had stood fast in her support of Captain Tuvok's refusal to seek out the Vidiians. That is, until Kes had approached her with a plan that, even Kathryn had to admit, she couldn't possibly turn down.

Yet, as relieved as Kathryn was to return to her ship, and as much as she anticipated resuming her command once Dr. Schmullis and Lt. Commander Eelo cleared her for duty, she couldn't help but feel like a spark of new life somewhere within her had been snuffed out. She would have to go back and dust off all those bricks that Chakotay had torn down, and rebuild her wall. Somehow, it felt so much more painful this time. Unnatural. But, that was simply how it had to be.

Except that, maybe it didn't have to be that way. Talia had gently reminded her of that just moments ago. Another conversation with the counselor, from a year before, broke into Kathryn's thoughts.

Talia sat back, unconsciously shaking her head to shift a tendril of wavy, red hair out of her face. "Kathryn, have you ever considered the possibility of dating? Not right now, of course, but down the road?"

"As the Captain, that's not a luxury I have," Kathryn replied defensively, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

"As Captain, you're also supposed to eat separately from the rest of the crew and avoid developing close personal friendships with them," the counselor reminded her. "But, there are no captains, admirals, or civilians to satisfy your innate human need for companionship out here, and you can't very well expect yourself to function without supportive personal relationships. Besides, Starfleet purposefully keeps those guidelines under the heading of 'Recommended.' Nobody at Command expects deep space officers to keep that code."

Janeway stroked her chin thoughtfully. "I suppose that's true. I wasn't in the deep space track, so we didn't really get into those sorts of grey-area discussions in command school. It was strongly discouraged, however, for command officers to enter into relationships with their subordinates."

"Well, I never went to command school," Talia said, "but I did grow up in deep space. I saw my parents successfully maintain a happy marriage that shifted between professional hierarchy and domestic partnership every day. I saw them develop deep, life-long friendships with officers who were their subordinates on duty and their drinking partners off. Those people helped raise me. They sent me birthday comms every year after we moved to Earth, and they came to my graduations. We became a family out there. It's not always easy, and it's not without complications, but we are communal animals. We need each other to survive."

A family. Much like this crew was becoming to each other. Kathryn sighed and resumed her pacing. What time was it? She had told Chakotay that she would join him for dinner in his quarters after her session, but she hadn't yet worked up the courage to face him, given the feelings her talk with Talia had drudged up. Her wall was no longer a solid stack of bricks, but a house of cards shifting tenuously in the breeze. She knew she should hurry and find some way to stabilize it, but a large part of her wanted to let them simply fall where they may.

"Love is worth greater risks than that," the counselor had told her just twenty minutes before. "It's worth risking some awkward moments with your first officer to at least admit to him how you feel, and maybe to find that you're not so alone in the Delta Quadrant as you think."

Kathryn sucked in a deep breath. What if I let the cards fall? Would it be so terrible? Which would be worse: dealing with the potential for compromised command—

—or living and dying alone out here with the guilt of never knowing what could have been?

When Kathryn arrived at Chakotay's quarters, she immediately sensed the same tension in him as she still wrestled within herself. It wasn't until after finishing an awkwardly quiet dinner that either one of them was willing to touch the subject at all. After clearing the dishes from the table, Chakotay had divided the remainder of the wine between them, his hand brushing hers as he steadied her glass while he poured. Her breath caught at his touch, catching his eyes and seeing his pupils dilate in response.

He had noticed.

It likely didn't help that they were still wearing civilian clothes, as their commissions had not yet been reactivated in the ship's system. You need to rest, Talia had insisted. Process through your experience. Readjust. Voyager will be here for you when you're ready. Tuvok and I can handle her for a few more days.

Indeed, they could. But, could Kathryn handle being so much around Chakotay, forestalling the inevitable wedge of duty that was again to come between them?

Recycling the empty wine bottle, Chakotay returned to his seat at the table across from her. When his eyes caught hers, she was certain he would say something, but he second-guessed himself and looked away.

To hell with it, she thought irritatedly. She'd never had much tolerance for pussyfooting around an issue, so she decided to just come out with it. "Chakotay, we need to talk about this."

His eyes snapped back up to hers. "About what?"

"The nature of our relationship."

His face fell. "Didn't we already have this discussion?"

"Yes… and no."

Chakotay looked up once more. "Alright."

"Clearly, we can't just go back to the way things were before," Kathryn stated.

"I agree."

"I won't ignore Starfleet protocol simply because it's inconvenient for me, but I also can't deny that—" she stopped short, trying to decide upon the most tactful way to finish her sentence.

But, Chakotay didn't wait for her to finish. In the space of a breath, he was on his feet, kneeling on the floor beside her and taking her hands in his. "Kathryn, this isn't just about convenience, and you know it. You can't possibly expect yourself to serve this crew well while you deny yourself the most basic of human needs. And, even if you can, I can't."

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. "Chakotay—"

"Kathryn, I love you, and I think you love me, too. After all that you've been through, after all you've sacrificed, I think you deserve to be happy. Give me a chance to show you that we can make it work. Please, Kathryn." He tugged her towards himself. "Let me ease this burden, too."

Her breath caught in the sudden swell of her throat, and she couldn't stop the tears from streaming down her face. It was his eyes that finally convinced her to agree, full of a promise to never let her down. There was no going back from this anymore; to try and ignore what had grown between them on New Earth would have been the slow death of their easy friendship, and she needed him by her side if they were going to survive this journey. No, they had to move forward, to find out if it was worth the risk.

So, she let the cards fall.

And, with a decisive nod, she leaned in.