Nine

A/N: An appeal to all you wonderful readers out there: if you've ever enjoyed one of my stories, if you've ever appreciated the time and effort that goes into producing them, here's a favour you can do for me in return: Please have a look at the Authors for Grenfell Tower charity auction (just Google it, or search the hashtag on Twitter for a link) that is currently going on in aid of all the families who lost everything in the horrendous Grenfell Tower fire. There are some amazing items up for grabs from truly wonderful authors, from signed limited edition books to manuscript critiques and advice. It's for a great cause, so even if you can't/don't want to bid yourself, do please share the living daylights out of the page. Thank you!


The Captain stepped into her quarters, pausing for a moment inside the doors as they closed behind her. Her rooms were as quiet as always, their silence broken only by Voyager's latent yet ever-present hum, which was so ubiquitous that Kathryn barely even noticed it anymore. This small, private section of the ship was the only home Janeway had known for six long years, yet still it didn't feel any more than temporary, despite the amount of time she spent here and though they represented the only true privacy she had. The footprint of a captain's quarters gifted her with far more space than the average crewman could ever dream of and in the early years Kathryn had tried to personalise it, hoping to ease the ache buried beneath her ribcage by creating a haven to which she could willingly retreat. Her rooms were peppered with modest belongings collected during the course of Voyager's journey, each of which held the memory of a place that she hoped one day to relate to friends and family back on Earth. I found this shawl on Percik III. Isn't it beautiful? The yarn is spun from the fur of a native creature a little like a sheep – No! It's not dye, that's the natural colour. Isn't it wonderful? Wait, I've got some holoimages somewhere, I'll show them to you. The weaver wanted my combadge in return and I swear, if I hadn't been able to find something else to trade instead, I might have been tempted. Keep it, mom. I was thinking of you when I bought it, anyway. I knew you'd like it. I carried it with me through all those years and now I have brought it back to you and with it, a part of that absent, unknowable me.

There were other items, too, that Kathryn had brought aboard at the start and that were still surviving, though these were even fewer in number and in some cases had acquired an altered meaning during the course of their journey. The engagement ring that Mark had given her, for example, a plain gold band with a solitary diamond that suited her but that even before Voyager she had never wore on duty. Of course Kathryn had brought it, but the shift that had started before the ship was flung into the Delta Quadrant had never really ended, and so from that point the ring had remained in its small velvet box, secreted in the drawer beside her Starfleet-issue bed until a single letter from home had rendered it an irrelevance, one whose glitter was painful to contemplate. Over the years it had shifted to the back of the drawer and lurked there still, taking up space in her quarters in a way that it had long since ceased to do in her heart.

She looked around, now, wondering at her lack of possessions, at the sum total of what she physically owned and how little there was to remind her of that other home, so distant and yet so longed for. She hadn't expected this mission to be a long trip, after all. Perhaps, if she had, she'd have brought more with her. But then, if she'd known, she'd never have come at all, would she?

Kathryn curled her fingers as she contemplated the truth of this thought. If she had known what Voyager's mission would bring, both to her and to this crew, of course she would have found away to avoid it. If she could go back, if she could change time, if she could flick a finger and alter history, of course she would. Wouldn't she? If she'd been given the choice in the first year of their journey, the answer would have been black and white, simple to the point of being nonsensical. But now, six years in, it was all so much more complicated.

A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, and now she knew the Maquis, and now she knew that the Maquis were dead, all apart from this little pocket of resistance that had only survived because of that fateful encounter with the array she had ultimately chosen to destroy. A good proportion what was now her crew, her faithful, patient, loyal crew, wiped out or not because of a decision she did or did not make. Ayala, gone. B'Elanna, gone. Chakotay-

Chakotay.

Her fingers curled more firmly, becoming fists at her side.

It's missing a dog, she thought to herself, looking around. A place can never really be a home until it's home to a dog.

This was a habit she had developed long ago, an almost Pavlovian response to thoughts of him arising in any other arena than the strictly professional. At the merest hint, she had trained her mind to skip over whatever was about to come next, to move her thoughts on to something unrelated and harmless. It was so automatic now that it wasn't even conscious, as borne out by the fact that right now, he was exactly whom she'd been intending to contemplate. Yet her mind was so used to deflection when it came to her first officer that it could not settle on the subject at hand.

Kathryn walked further into her quarters. She was tired and longed to shed the carapace of her uniform for something more comfortable but could not, not until she'd done what she intended to do next. It would surprise him, a call from her at this hour, when both their days were barely done. She had no idea whether or not Chakotay was intending to keep up his side of their recently developed ritual and make a call to her himself later, but she had no intention of waiting to find out.

This had to be dealt with now, properly. Kathryn knew she had to face it. She should have done exactly that the previous night, instead of allowing herself to be overwhelmed by the look of gentle intent on Chakotay's face as he'd watched her through the screen.

Crossing the room, she paused to look out at the stars, her stomach churning anew at the thought of the more recent conversation she'd conducted with Tuvok. What it must have cost him, to begin it. He was right, too – had anyone else made the same attempt she'd have closed it down with a swift reprimand and an even swifter ejection from her presence. But it was Tuvok, whom she knew for a fact would prefer any tribulation up to and including immolation to broaching so personal a subject. That he had felt the need was what had given her pause enough to listen and then, later, to decide that she had to show the same grit herself. She'd done it before, after all.

Taking a breath, Kathryn sat at her desk, pulling in the chair so that she sat trim and straight before her console. She folded her hands in front of her and raised her chin.

"Computer," she said. "Open a sub-space channel with PADD designation Voyager-59583. Audio and visual. Authorisation Janeway Lamda One."

The computer's tinny voice acknowledged her order. There was a pause of several seconds, during which Janeway stared at her reflection overlaying the Federation logo on the screen in front of her, schooling her expression into one of studied impassivity. Tuvok, she thought, would at least approve of that.

Chakotay's face appeared on the screen, surprise only just visible in the crease of his brow. There was an almost imperceptible pause, in which she knew he'd taken in her uniform. He was, she was relieved to see, also still dressed in his.

"Captain," he greeted her, face as unsmiling as her own was as he seamlessly took his cue from her attire and rigid demeanour, just as she'd known he would.

There would be no softly muttered 'Kathryn' in this conversation.

"Commander."

"Apologies for my delay in answering. I was just working on my daily report. And I wasn't… expecting a call."

She nodded. "I understand."

"Is there something I can do for you?" He watched her steadily, dark eyes shadowed but gaze unwavering, as if, although she'd taken him unawares with her call, he was not surprised by its tone and perhaps already held suspicions as to its content.

Janeway swallowed, forcing herself not to drop his gaze. "I wanted to let you know that I have contacted the Ellenial government," she told him. "They have extended me an invitation to visit their homeworld."

For the merest fraction of a second, Chakotay was so still that she wasn't even sure he was breathing. Then he blinked.

"You're… coming here?"

"Yes. You did say that B'Elanna could use the help?"

"I… did, Captain, yes."

"Very well, then. Tom Paris and I will be departing at 0600 hours ship time tomorrow. We calculate that our journey time to Ellenia Prime to be 13 hours 30 minutes, barring unforeseen circumstances."

"Tom Paris?"

"It seemed churlish not to allow him to accompany me, under the circumstances."

Chakotay nodded absently, distracted.

She took a breath and forced herself on. "Commander, I also believe that… you and I need to talk. It seems that our communications of late may have brought up issues that need to be addressed and," Janeway paused, untangling her fingers before re-tangling them again in a different position, "I believe that this needs to happen face to face. On, for want of a better word, neutral ground."

She looked up at him again, just in time to see the trace of a strangely sad smile ghost against his lips. "Understood, Captain."

Kathryn took a painful breath. She wasn't at all sure that he did and making it clear to him… how could she, really, when her mind kept dipping away from the truth of it all?

"Chakotay," she said, quietly, trying, trying, "Chakotay…"

An expression flashed through his eyes then – a spark of abject surprise, tinted with something that turned her heart over right there in her chest.

"Sometimes," she said, "sometimes 'I can't' just means 'I don't know how'."

[TBC]