1

December 20, 2378

Admiral Kathryn Janeway was still having a hard time believing that her plan had worked. She was on Voyager, in the Delta Quadrant. Chakotay was alive. Seven was alive. She herself hadn't felt so alive in over ten years. And her younger self, the stubborn, self-righteous Captain Janeway, was going to ruin everything. "This is a waste of time," she said, exasperated. "The shielding for those manifolds is regulated from the central nexus by the Queen herself. You might be able to damage one of them, maybe two. But by the time you moved onto the third, she'd adapt."

"There may be a way to bring them down simultaneously," argued the captain.

"From where, inside the hub?" replied the admiral. "Voyager would be crushed like a bug."

"What about taking the conduit back to the Alpha Quadrant and then destroying the structure from the other side?" Chakotay suggested.

"This hub is here," Admiral Janeway shot back. "There's nothing in the Alpha Quadrant but exit apertures. While you're all standing around dreaming up fantasy tactical scenarios, the Queen is studying her scans of our armor and weapons. And she's probably got the entire Collective working on a way to counter them. So take the ship back into that nebula and go home before it's too late."

The admiral didn't miss the glance exchanged between captain and first officer as she told him, "Find a way to destroy that hub." Then the captain turned to her older counterpart. "Let's take a walk."

The admiral let her gaze linger on Chakotay for just a moment before she followed the captain out of the briefing room and into the corridor.

"I want to know why you didn't tell me about this," said the captain.

"Because I remember how stubborn and self-righteous I used to be. I figured you might try to do something stupid."

"We have an opportunity to deal a crippling blow to the Borg. It could save millions of lives."

"You don't understand, Captain. Last year, I vowed that I wouldn't spend another… another year like that. I've devoted the last ten years to figuring out a way to get Voyager home earlier. Ever since…" The admiral trailed off.

The captain didn't seem to notice her hesitancy. She was too wrapped up in her own anger. "Maybe we should go back to sickbay."

"Why? So you can have me sedated?"

"So I can have the Doctor reconfirm your identity. I refuse to believe I'll ever become as cynical as you."

"Am I the only one experiencing déjà vu here?" the admiral asked.

"What are you talking about?"

"Seven years ago you had the chance to use the Caretaker's array to get Voyager home. Instead, you destroyed it."

The captain swallowed hard. The admiral certainly knew how to play on her guilt. "I did what I knew was right."

"You chose to put the lives of strangers ahead of the lives of your crew. You can't make the same mistake again."

"You got Voyager home," the captain argued, "which means I will too. If it takes a few more years then that's…"

"Seven of Nine is going to die," the admiral cut off her younger counterpart abruptly, knowing this would get her attention. It did. Captain Janeway stopped dead in her tracks.

"What?"

"Three years from now. She'll be injured on an away mission. She'll make it back to Voyager, and die in the arms of her husband."

"Husband?" asked the captain.

The admiral watched the captain's face carefully. "Chakotay," she said. Captain Janeway looked as though she'd been punched in the gut. The admiral pursed her lips, remembering feeling the same way when she had discovered Chakotay's relationship with Seven. "He'll never be the same after Seven's death, and neither will you," the admiral continued.

"If I know what's going to happen, I can avoid it."

"Seven isn't the only one. Between this day and the day I got Voyager home, I lost twenty two crew members. And then of course there's Tuvok."

"What about him?"

"You're forgetting the Temporal Prime Directive, Captain."

"The hell with it."

"Fine. Tuvok has a degenerative neurological condition that he hasn't told you about. There's a cure in the Alpha Quadrant, but he doesn't get it in time. Even if you alter Voyager's route, limit your contact with alien species, you're going to lose people. But I'm offering you a chance to get all of them home safe and sound today. Are you really going to walk away from that?"

The admiral recognized the set of the jaw, the determination in the eyes and the fear in the heart of her younger self. "There has to be another way," Captain Janeway said.

...

Admiral Janeway sat in the messhall, contemplating what she'd seen earlier that day. She'd watched the senior staff all go along and agree with her younger self. She'd watched the young, idealistic Harry Kim say, "Maybe it's not the destination that matters. Maybe it's the journey. And if that journey takes a little longer so we can do something we all believe in, I can't think of any place I'd rather be, or any people I'd rather be with." She'd wanted to reply, You fool! But Harry was right about one thing, there was no better group of people to be with. He just didn't understand what it would be like to live for so many years without them, to make the choice you thought was safe only to discover that you'd be responsible for so many more deaths. Looking at herself and her crew as they had been thirty-three years earlier, she was also starting to wonder whether this was the moment where she'd taken a wrong turn. Her decision to avoid the Borg had been for the safety of her crew, but it had been a decision made out of fear, and, looking back at her younger self, she was realizing that she was not the type to make decisions out of fear. At least, she didn't used to be.

She walked to the replicator, about to order her usual cup of tea, but on the spur of the moment, she changed her mind. The doors to the messhall opened as she said, "Coffee, black."

"I thought you gave it up," her own voice answered her.

"I've decided to revive a few of my old habits," the admiral replied, making her way back to the couch.

"Oh?" asked the captain. "What else, besides the coffee?"

"Oh, well. I used to be much more idealistic. I took a lot of risks. I've been so determined to get this crew home for so many years that I think I forgot how much they loved being together, and how loyal they were to you. It's taken me a few days to realize it. This is your ship, your crew. Not mine. I was wrong to lie to you, to think I could talk you out of something you'd set your mind to."

"You were only trying to do what you thought was right for all of us."

"No… I was acting out of fear. Something I've become far too accustomed to doing. And it started here, when I refused to go back to that nebula thirty-three years ago. Everything started here."

"Everything," the captain echoed. "You mean whatever happened between you and Chakotay. You mean his relationship with Seven."

The admiral's head snapped up, but she didn't reply.

A long silence stretched between them before the captain spoke again. "He's dead, isn't he?"

The admiral looked up at her younger self, and she could see the captain steeling herself against the answer to her question, could see how much it pained her to even ask. But the admiral didn't want to talk about him.

"I can see it in your face when you look at him."

Still, the admiral didn't answer, looking into her coffee cup and taking a sip of the steaming brown liquid instead. She didn't like to talk about him. It was too painful, too hard to speak his name, too hard to remember, even after all these years. She had thrown Seven and Tuvok in the captain's face, knowing that would manipulate her into listening. But not him. Well, not in that way, anyway. She had used his name only to answer the captain's question about Seven's future husband. She didn't like to think about that, either. But at least when they had gotten married they had both been alive. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Chakotay," the captain said, her voice cracking. "He's dead in your timeline?"

The admiral could tell that Captain Janeway was working to maintain a tone of clinical detachment. There was no clinical detachment in her voice when she replied, "Yes."

The captain sat beside the admiral on the couch. "When? How?"

"If you're asking me so you can avoid it in your timeline, forget it."

Even the immovable captain's voice shook when she replied, "That's not why I'm asking, and you know it."

The admiral sighed. She supposed that while she was reviving old habits, she might as well make honesty with herself one of them. "I told you earlier that neither of us was ever the same after Seven's death. I felt... I felt terribly guilty for sending her on that away mission, even though there was no way I could have known what would happen. I felt that her death was on my shoulders. Only you know, Captain, how dear to me Seven of Nine is. I had seen her through so much, watched her grow into such a fine young woman, and then for her to die in such a senseless way..."

"It must have been terrible for you," the captain whispered.

"It was. It was terrible. Chakotay tried to do what he had always done. He tried to help me, to make my burdens lighter. But I shut him out." She looked pointedly at her younger self. "Even more than you do now. And in my selfish obsession with my own pain, I couldn't see how badly he was hurting, too. Couldn't see how if I just let him in, let him help me, that it would have helped him." She paused, taking a long breath and collecting her thoughts. She had never shared this with anyone. "I don't know exactly what Chakotay felt for me as the years went on," the admiral continued. "I think that... I think I wanted him to hate me, for what I had done to Seven, for what I had done to him, what I had done to us. But he couldn't. Somehow, when he looked at me with those dark, sad, knowing eyes, there was still love there, even after everything I had done to drive him away, and I couldn't face that. There were moments, brief moments, when we were happy, even after Seven's death, but they were short lived, and I could never enjoy them because I knew how quickly they would be gone, or overshadowed by something terrible. I could only feel guilt for my happiness. Chakotay carried me, those last few years in the Delta Quadrant, and I never realized how heavy his burden was."

The admiral was too absorbed in her story to notice the tears gathering in the captain's eyes, or the tremor in her voice when she asked, "And then?"

"We got home sixteen years from today. December 20, 2394. There were debriefings and a brief quarantine while we were all thoroughly examined to make sure we were really who we claimed to be and all that. On Christmas Eve, Starfleet hosted a grand party for us and our families. Chakotay came to the party that night. I noticed that he didn't look well. I even asked him how he was feeling. Later, I realized I should have seen it much earlier. Months, maybe even years earlier. He told me he was just tired. I don't think any of us knew how sick he was. He stayed long enough to wish every member of the crew a Merry Christmas. Then he went home, saying he just needed to rest. Three days later, he was gone. I never even got to say goodbye."

"He kept his promise," the captain whispered, not noticing the tears that were running down her own cheeks. "He kept his promise to stay by your side until Voyager was home."

"He did," replied the admiral, feeling long suppressed emotions start to rise up in her throat. "He kept his promise, and then he couldn't carry the burden any longer. He had no purpose left, I guess." The admiral noticed the expression of shock on her counterpart's face. "He had lost Seven, he had lost me. He had given so much of himself to all of us, and then we were home, and I think there was nothing left for him. I had pushed him away for so long that he had no reason to expect that we'd have any relationship at all after Voyager. And Seven was gone, and…"

"And he had no reason to go on," the captain whispered, unable to picture her strong, steady first officer in such a state. But the haunted look in the admiral's eyes told her that the story was true. "You told me about Tuvok and Seven," the captain realized aloud, "but really, you came back to save Chakotay just as much as them."

Admiral Janeway nodded. "And myself. I'd been thinking about it for years, how to get Voyager home earlier, but last year on Christmas Eve, I was sitting at my kitchen table examining my life, and I realized how much I disliked the person I've become. I vowed to myself that I wouldn't spend another Christmas like that."

"Well, you have a few more days to make this Christmas very different," said the captain, wiping at her cheeks and managing a smile.
The admiral nodded. "I wanted to tell you that you've changed my mind. I'd like to help you carry out your mission. Maybe together we can increase our odds."

"Maybe we can do more than that," replied the captain with a glint in her eye. "There's got to be a way to have our cake and eat it too."
"We can't destroy the hub and get Voyager home."

"Are you absolutely sure about that?" the captain asked.

The admiral leaned back against the couch. "There might be a way. I considered it once, but it seemed too risky."

The captain grinned. "That was before you decided to revive your old habits."

Already formulating a plan in her mind, Admiral Janeway put her nose next to her coffee cup and inhaled deeply. "I don't know why I ever gave this up."

...

Captain Janeway walked slowly from the turbolift to her quarters. Her conversation with the older version of herself had been emotional and exhausting. She felt confident, now, that they had a plan that would allow them to destroy the transwarp hub and have the best chance of getting Voyager home, but her head was still spinning. She was still trying to wrap her head around everything that the admiral had told her about the future. Seven, dead. Tuvok, with a horrible degenerative disease, ranting and raving, unable to control his mental faculties. And Chakotay. She had always felt that maintaining a certain professional distance was appropriate, especially after witnessing what had happened to Ransom's crew when he had done the opposite. But she had never considered that maintaining that distance might be harmful, especially to her first officer and closest friend.

Closest friend. Are we still close friends? she wondered. There was a time when she wouldn't have questioned it. She thought back to his asking for a rain check at lunch that day, saying that he already had plans. With Seven? she wondered now. What kind of friend am I if he couldn't even tell me about… She stopped the thought. She couldn't wrap her mind around the idea of Chakotay and Seven dating, much less married. But it had happened. The admiral had lived that reality. It must have been so hard, she thought, to watch them become closer. She wouldn't interfere; she'd want them to be happy. Yet she knew that she would feel more and more alone as they became a couple. But even watching Chakotay and Seven marry would not be as hard as living without them. Seven was probably as close as she was ever going to come to having a daughter. And Chakotay… She couldn't put into words what she felt for Chakotay. The admiral had lived for ten years without him, and from what little she'd said about their relationship prior to that, the last dozen years on Voyager, they hadn't even had much of a friendship. They had done their duty and no more. Janeway shuddered. Was that where she was headed? Was that the life she was creating for herself? Duty and no more? Was she doomed to destroy the lives of those she cared about, and her own in the process? Her hand was shaking as she lifted it to key in her door code.

"Captain?" The voice of her first officer startled her, and she jumped, her back making contact with his large, solid chest.

"Chakotay," she said, her voice shaking as she turned to face him and backed away, increasing the space between them.

His features were instantly filled with concern when he saw her face, still streaked with her earlier tears. "Kathryn?" he asked softly.

"I'm f…" she started, but cut herself off mid-sentence, remembering what the admiral had said. If I had just let him in, let him help me, it would have helped him. She changed her mind, and admitted, "I'm a little shaken up, actually."

Chakotay reached out and took her hand in his. "You're trembling."

"Would you like to come in for some tea?"

Chakotay glanced up and down the corridor. Kathryn wondered whether he was looking for Seven and expected him to turn down the invitation, as he had with lunch. Instead, his thumb gently massaged the back of her hand and he looked into her eyes. "I'd like that." He released her hand so she could enter her door code.

She entered her quarters with her back to him. "Have a seat," she said, while she went to the replicator and ordered two cups of his favorite herbal tea. She handed him one and sat on the couch beside him, putting her cup down on the coffee table and propping her feet up beside it, leaning her head back against the sofa.

"It must be strange, meeting an older version of yourself," he offered when she didn't speak.

"Strange doesn't even begin to cover it." She lifted her head. "What do you think of her, Chakotay?"

He looked into his mug and then out at the stars before looking back at her. "I think she's a sad, bitter woman who has lived a terribly painful life."

Kathryn sat up straight, taking her feet off the table. "Did you talk to her?"

"No."

"Then what makes you say that?"

"If you think that I don't know you well enough to see through you after all this time, then our friendship isn't as strong as I thought it was," he said flippantly. He was about to chuckle, but he stopped, seeing the expression on her face, as if he'd struck her. He let the moment hang in the air, unsure what to say.

Kathryn looked out at the stars whizzing by, remembering Admiral Janeway's eyes - her own eyes - as she'd told her, I didn't even get to say goodbye… Three days later he was gone. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Chakotay didn't know how to respond. He couldn't remember another time in seven years of knowing her that he'd heard Kathryn Janeway apologize. She'd certainly never apologized to him, not directly, even when he'd thought she should have. Now, he had no idea what she was apologizing for. "For what?"

When she turned her face to him again, there were unshed tears glistening in her eyes. "For everything." This is where everything started, she remembered the admiral saying. This is where everything has to change. "I've hurt you," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

"How? How have you hurt me?" He could certainly think of a dozen ways, but he felt certain they were not what she was thinking of.

"Shut you out," she said, her voice trembling. She stood, putting some distance between them, and walked to her favorite spot, near the window. "Never let you… never let you help me. I'm not a good friend."

"You're the captain, first and foremost. There have been times when I haven't liked that, but I've always understood it." She was silent, not responding. "Does this have something to do with Admiral Janeway?" She didn't reply, and her silence was enough confirmation for him. He tried to put the pieces together, to understand what she was talking about. "Whatever she feels guilty for, you don't have to apologize for it."

"But it's already started. I've tried to make the best decisions for all of us, but so did she. And look where it got her. Seven, dead. Tuvok, might as well be dead. And Chakotay…"

"What? Kathryn, you're not making any sense. I don't understand what you're saying." Chakotay's own mind was reeling. What did she mean about Seven and Tuvok? And what about him?

Janeway whirled around, and Chakotay could see the tears that were streaming down her cheeks. "In the future. Seven dies on an away mission. Tuvok has a disease, a mental disease, that can only be cured if we get home now. And you…"

"And me? What about me?"

"He kept his promise to stay by her side and help carry her burdens until they got home. Three days later, he died. And it was her fault. My fault."

"Kathryn, stop. Stop and listen to me." He stood and walked over to her, taking her by the shoulders. She was trembling, as she had been in the corridor. "Whatever she did is not your fault. You didn't do it. You aren't her."

"But I'm well on my way to becoming her, aren't I?" She shrugged off his hands and turned away from him.

"Not if you don't want to," he replied softly.

She shook her head stubbornly, refusing to face him.

"Listen to yourself. How could Chakotay's death in the admiral's timeline be your fault?"

"I've already started to become her, Chakotay. Don't you see?"

"What I see is you behaving completely irrationally, in a way that I've only seen a few other times before. And when I think of those times, and what they resulted in, it scares me. What did she say to you?"

She whirled around to face him, about to throw his own words about irrationality back in his face, but she stopped herself, seeing the genuine concern in his eyes. This is your chance, a voice in the back of her mind whispered. This is your chance to change everything. Everything starts right now, anew. The admiral gave you that chance. "All right," she said. She slumped back onto the sofa and he followed, seated beside her. Everything that the admiral had told her since her arrival began to pour out of her: Tuvok's illness, Seven's death, the other crew members that Admiral Janeway lost before she got home, and finally, the description of Chakotay's own untimely passing, only a few short days after Voyager's return to Earth.

"That must have been terrible for the admiral," Chakotay said when she had finished.

The ghost of a smile passed over her features. "That's what I said."

"Well, now that we know what happened to her, surely we can avoid it."

"Maybe," she whispered. "Maybe some of it." She looked up into his eyes and reached across the distance between them. It was only a few inches, but to her it seemed a cavernous space. Her hand stopped, suspended in midair. "I truly am sorry, Chakotay. I have… valued your friendship, and I apologize for anything I've done to jeopardize it."

"All the hardships we've had to face on Voyager haven't made things easier for either of us. The weight of a hundred and fifty lives is a heavy burden to bear; I appreciate that more than anyone. And you can hardly take sole responsibility for any failings in our friendship. I believe that is, as they say, a two way street."

Her lip trembled as the hand reaching across the cavern between them touched his cheek, caressed it. He closed his eyes; she hadn't touched him that way in years. "I don't want to lose you," she whispered. "I don't want to have to live without you, like she did."
He clasped her hand and covered it with his own. "You won't lose me."

"I'm afraid I already have."

He looked at her, puzzled, and she withdrew her hand, turning her face away from him. "Why?" he pressed. "I don't see any reason to be afraid of that. The admiral's future won't be yours." When she refused to turn back to look at him, he scooted closer on the couch, closing some of the cavern between them. "What else are you not telling me?"

She shook her head, feeling the heat of his breath on her ear. "I can't tell you."

"Why not? Why can't you tell me?"

"It wouldn't be right. The temporal prime directive."

"The temporal prime directive no longer applies. That future is gone."

"It's not my place."

"How is this different from everything else you've told me?"

"It's just different."

"Damn it, Kathryn!" he exploded, backing away from her, increasing the distance between them again. "You say you want to be more open, be more honest, to have a real friendship with me, but then you still call the shots about what gets said and what doesn't?"

"All right, fine!" she replied, turning to face him. "You and Seven. Your… relationship. Your… romance. The admiral told me about you and Seven."

"Me and Seven? We've had a few dates, that's all. Why would the admiral tell you that?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Janeway shot back.

"It was just a few dates. She asked me to help her with her study of human interactions."

"You're dating someone, and you didn't see fit to tell me?"

"Are you asking as my captain or as my friend?"

"As your friend!"

"It was all so new. I didn't want to…" He stopped, seeing her expression of disbelief. "All right," he admitted. "I was afraid of what you'd say. I didn't think you'd approve."

She turned away from him. "I just want you to be happy, Chakotay. I want the best for you. If she's what makes you happy, I won't stand in your way."

It took him a long time to reply, he was so surprised by her response. Finally, he said, "I'm sorry. I underestimated you. I thought you'd be overprotective of her, say she wasn't ready to date."

Janeway turned to look at him with a small smile on her face. "Seven's a grown woman, and she's come a long way. I can't make that decision for her. I'm delighted that she's decided to explore this aspect of her humanity." She paused, swallowing hard. "And, if I may say, she has excellent taste."

Chakotay blushed, averting his eyes. "Thank you." He paused to study his captain and friend for another moment. She seemed calmer than she had when he'd run into her in the corridor, but she was still upset about something. He knew her too well not to notice that. Perhaps his lack of honesty over his newfound relationship? "Kathryn, it's not anything serious with me and Seven. I would have told you before it got that way."

She nodded, blinking rapidly. "Of course."

"Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine. Thank you for the talk, Chakotay."

"Are you sure?" he asked, standing up and clearing their mugs from the table. She nodded. After he had the mugs them in the replicator, he returned to her and took her hands. "You're not going to lose me, or our friendship," he assured her. "That I can promise you."

Our friendship. At least we'll have our friendship, she thought. She said, "I'm glad," and squeezed his hands before releasing them. "Oh, and I'll be briefing the senior staff in the morning. Admiral Janeway and I have a new plan."

Chakotay grinned. "I'm sure it's bound to succeed, with two Kathryn Janeways behind it."

The captain smiled, but when the door closed behind her first officer, she still felt empty inside.

...

Captain Janeway entered the shuttle bay. She had briefed the senior staff on the plan she and the admiral had invented the night before, and everyone had been enthusiastic. Still, she felt nervous. Her palm was sweaty against the hypospray she held as she climbed into the shuttle beside her older counterpart.

"It's about time. I'm not getting any younger, you know."

"You're sure you want to do this?" asked the captain.

"No," the admiral replied, "but Voyager isn't big enough for both of us."

"You could come back with us. You could have the Christmas you always wanted, the one that was different. You could have the life you've been longing for all these years. You won't be alone."

The admiral smiled, and patted the captain's knee. "I've done what I came here to do, Captain. That Christmas, that life, is for you to have, not me. This way, it will be as though I never existed, which is how it should have been all along."

"All right," the captain agreed, and pressed the hypospray to her older self's neck. "Captain," the admiral said, "everything is different now. Everything. Don't think that anything I've told you about my future is bound to happen in yours."

"I know, but…"

The admiral shook her head, cutting off her younger counterpart. "You don't know. I was thinking last night, after our talk, about how I felt when I used to be you. I looked back at some of my personal logs, actually."

"You what?" the captain asked, offended that the admiral had looked at her personal logs. "Those are private."

Admiral Janeway chuckled. "You forget that I wrote them." She paused. "I just want you to understand that everything will be different. If we succeed today, you won't be in the Delta Quadrant. You won't be in a command structure. The limits that you've placed on yourself, and on your relationships, won't exist."

The captain nodded slowly, starting to catch the admiral's meaning. "Good luck, Admiral," she said softly.

"You, too. Captain. I'm glad I got to know you again."

...

"Commander." A passing ensign greeted Chakotay as he strode down the corridor, but he barely even heard the voice and didn't stop to acknowledge the greeting. His head had been spinning ever since his conversation with Kathryn the previous night - no, since before that, since Admiral Janeway's arrival.

The first time he had locked eyes with the admiral, he'd gotten a glimpse of the terrible pain she had been through, a pain that he suspected was somehow related to him, or the alternate timeline version of him, anyway. As he'd watched her interact with the captain and the crew, it had become apparent to him that whatever she'd endured had made her a bitter, angry woman. He would never say so to Kathryn, but he had often feared for her state of mind and her well-being after the stress of commanding Voyager in the Delta Quadrant for so many years, especially after her depression in the Void and her extreme reaction to the Equinox crew. Admiral Janeway seemed to be proof that all his fears were well-founded, and this had made him worry for Kathryn all the more. Yet, his captain had made it clear that their friendship would only go so far, and he had grown weary, over the years, of trying to push the boundaries she had set. He wondered if last night's conversation had truly been the change that it seemed.

He had returned to his quarters after saying goodnight to her, but had been unable to sleep. His mind kept whirling with all the things she had told him, the description of his sad and lonely death in the admiral's timeline, her insistence on her own, or the admiral's, responsibility for his loneliness, the implication that without her and without Voyager, he'd have nothing to live for. He didn't like that idea, not at all. But you're not doomed to that life, he told himself. You're not going to die like that, sad and alone, without purpose, without joy. You've got some life in you yet, old man.

He thought about the desperate look in Kathryn's eyes when she had said she didn't want to lose him. Her fervor had surprised him. Was she merely afraid of captaining Voyager alone? No, that didn't seem like her. Her plea had been of a more personal nature, he was sure of it. But was it merely the entreaty of a close friend, or was it something more? He shook his head. The question awoke thoughts and feelings he had thought long dead, feelings better left unexamined.

He entered astrometrics, and approached Seven at her station. "Any word from the admiral?"

"We lost contact as soon as she entered the hub," Seven replied, not meeting his eyes.

"Did the Borg give her any trouble?"

"Her vessel was scanned by several cubes, but none approached her, sir."

Chakotay suppressed a smile. "Are we keeping things professional again today?"

"Yes, Commander."

His smile faded. "You're not joking, are you?"

"No."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm just busy," Seven replied, keeping her eyes on the console in front of her.

"I think I've gotten to know you a little better than that."

"I'd prefer it if you didn't speak to me as though we're on intimate terms."

"We are on intimate terms," Chakotay argued.

"Not any more."

"What the hell is going on?" Chakotay asked, his frustration seeping through into his tone. First, Kathryn acting strangely, and now, Seven.

"I've decided to alter the parameters of our relationship," Seven replied, her tone emotionless.

"Well, that's a familiar refrain," Chakotay shot back. "You mind telling me why?"

"We both have dangerous occupations. It's possible one of us could be seriously injured, or worse. I believe it's best to avoid emotional attachments."

"You can't avoid emotional situations for the rest of your life, Seven. Emotions are part of what make us human. Maybe you can just flip some Borg switch and shut your emotions off, but I can't."

"I suggest you try. It will make things less difficult for you if any harm should come to me."

Chakotay narrowed his eyes, suspicion starting to dawn on him. "Why are you suddenly so concerned about that? Is there something I should know?"

Seven finally looked up at him, stopping her work. "The admiral suggested that your feelings for me will cause you pain in the future. I can't allow that to happen."

Chakotay sighed. Had Admiral Janeway told Seven the same information she had given to Kathryn? "Seven, any relationship involves risk. And nobody can guarantee what's going to happen tomorrow, not even an admiral from the future. The only certainty now is that what happened in Admiral Janeway's timeline is never going to happen. It's been irrevocably changed."

"I suppose that is true."

"I know it is!" Chakotay insisted. "Look, I know the admiral spoke to you and told you something about her future. She spoke to the captain, too. The spirits only know why she didn't actually come and talk to me. But whatever she told you, or the captain, it's not going to happen now. We can't make a decision about our relationship based on something that isn't going to happen, and, if I understand temporal theory correctly, never did."

"That does make sense," Seven replied, softening. "Perhaps I was premature in my judgment."

"Perhaps," Chakotay replied with a small smile. "If we do make it home," Seven said hesitantly, "everything will change."

"We don't know what will happen, Seven," he replied, feeling the ghost of an old fear rise up in his chest. The Maquis could be imprisoned.

"We don't."

He was quiet for a long time, looking at the graphic of the elaborate Borg hub displayed on the large screen in front of them.

"Chakotay?" she asked, laying a hand on his arm. "What is the expression? A penny for your thoughts?"

"Maybe you're right to be cautious about our relationship, but for the wrong reasons. Maybe we should take a step back. If we do get home, we don't know how things will turn out for either of us."

"Are you suggesting that I am right to put an end to our… intimate relationship?"

"I am suggesting that we slow down, and wait to see what happens, and what we each want when, or if, we get home."

"I feel uneasy about returning to the Alpha Quadrant," Seven admitted. "Voyager is the only home I have ever known, except with the Borg. I do not know if Starfleet will look fondly on my past."

"Seven, no matter what happens with our 'intimate relationship,' I will support you and be there for you when we get home. So will Captain Janeway, and Ensign Kim, and the Doctor, and everyone else on Voyager's crew. That's a promise."

Seven squeezed his arm and looked into his eyes, her own expression betraying her fear. "Thank you, Chakotay."

"Now, let's make sure our plan works, or this is going to be a whole lot of talk for no reason."

...

"Mr. Paris, what's our position?" the captain asked, her voice filled with trepidation.

Paris grinned. "Right where we expect it to be."

"The transwarp network has been obliterated, Captain," said Seven.

"We'll celebrate later," Janeway said, her voice tightly controlled. "Mister Tuvok?"

Tuvok fired a torpedo, and around them the Borg sphere exploded. As the debris cleared, Janeway gasped. On the viewscreen in front of her was a group of Starfleet ships. "We did it," she breathed, unable to believe her own eyes.

"We're being hailed," said Harry Kim, his voice, too, full of emotion.

"On screen," said the captain, fighting to keep control of her emotions. She wanted to cry out with joy as Admiral Owen Paris and Lieutenant Reginald Barclay appeared on the view screen in front of her. Instead, she merely said, "Sorry to surprise you. Next time we'll call ahead."

"Welcome back," Admiral Paris replied.

"It's good to be here."

"How did you…" Paris began.

Janeway cut him off, too drained to answer his questions just now. "It'll all be in my report, sir."

"I look forward to it," Paris replied.

The transmission ended and the captain bowed her head. "Thanks for your help, Admiral Janeway," she whispered to a version of herself who had sacrificed her own existence to make this moment possible.

The comm beeped, and the Doctor's voice said, "Sickbay to the bridge." The sound of a baby's cry filled the bridge. Harry Kim could not stop the chuckle that emerged from his lips at the sound. "Doctor to Lieutenant Paris. There's someone here who'd like to say hello."

"You'd better get down there, Tom," the captain said.

"Yes, ma'am." Tom Paris practically leapt from his chair to the turbolift in a single stride, exchanging a grin with his best friend Harry Kim on the way.

"Chakotay, take the helm."

"Aye, Captain."

"Set a course for home." Kathryn Janeway made her way back to her captain's chair and sat down in it slowly, running her hands along the armrests. We did it, Admiral Janeway, she thought. We made it home in time for Christmas. But at the same time, a part of her wondered just what it was she was going to find when they arrived at Starfleet Headquarters.