AN: big thank you as usual to northernexposure and to Photogirl1890 for giving up their time to read this, and to everyone who has left a review.

Chapter thirteen

As soon as we turn away from the airlock, Chakotay dips down to drop his comment close to my ear. "I'd say that was a resounding success."

I smile up at him as we head to the 'lift. "It was. It should put both us in Command's good books."

"Let's hope so. I doubt anyone expected we'd make so much progress so soon."

"The only hard part was keeping up with them! My face was hurting just now from all the smiling, and last night, my stomach muscles were aching from laughing so much. I'll say this for the Pairtish and the Delaydon, they certainly have stamina."

"I'm not sure I've ever met a people who are so intent on socialising and having a good time."

"Me neither. Or a space-faring civilisation that is quite so… grounded. Sure, they're interested in exploring new worlds, but their priorities all revolve around how they can improve life on their home planet."

"Yes. No one could ever accuse them of letting technological progress dictate their agenda."

"And the Joseffans were simply the gentlest, most considerate species I've ever met."

We pass a group of Starfleet personnel and acknowledge their greetings.

"I've been hoping that after two weeks, their sense of calm and harmony in everything they do will have rubbed off on me," I confide, once we're out of earshot.

"You're certainly looking calm and harmonious to me right now." Chakotay smiles.

"Good." I hope he isn't just flattering me. I've certainly been feeling good recently. Very good. I smile back. "And with part of Voyager's next mission in the Terran system, these few weeks are likely to be the most professionally calm and harmonious you've experienced in a long while too."

We stop at the end of the corridor and Chakotay calls the 'lift.

"You could be right," he replies. "I scanned the initial briefing again last night. I can't remember having so little to do since they sent me and my crew on all those milk runs, just after you persuaded them to give me Voyager. Remember?"

"How could I forget?" We step onto the 'lift and stand shoulder-to-shoulder. "Promenade," I order. "I was so damned angry!" I tell him. "You deserved so much better so much sooner."

"Well, it's good to know you were fighting my corner professionally back then." A smile tugs at one corner of his mouth and I feel his hand slide round past my lower back to rest on my hip. "Even if you were still keeping me guessing in other areas."

Angling myself towards him a little, I wag a finger at him and tap his chest. "Oh, I think you already had a pretty good idea how I felt, even then."

"You do?"

The hand on my hip guides me further round and pulls me to him – I've noticed he's an expert these days at making the most of a few seconds of privacy.

"I think you're forgetting that whenever we met, you turned up on the arm of a stream of very eligible bachelors."

"Them?" I smile. "Oh, they were just decorative."

"So you say." He leans down, taking advantage of the fact my up-do leaves the length of my neck exposed, his lips sending a delicious frisson through my nervous system. "They were all so similar," he mumbles against my skin, "so very well-bred and distinguished." His large hands slide down and find their way under my jacket to firmly cup my backside. "Guess your tastes have changed."

It shouldn't be possible for him to make me feel so good so quickly, with nothing more than a few mumbled words and a few seconds of contact. I'm suddenly rather glad we were the last to make it to the 'lifts and ended up on our own.

"I'm surprised you can remember." A warm laugh erupts in the back of my throat. "If I'm not mistaken, you were pretty busy with a certain Captain Leona at that time. That rather attractive Betazoid."

He pulls back to look at me, hands sliding up to my waist. "What, the one whose mission you sabotaged?"

I tilt my chin. "Sabotage is a strong word."

He laughs. "I barely knew her! Never got the chance – because someone had her ship recalled to Earth. I never even got to take her on a proper date!"

Stepping away from him, I pull my jacket straight. I'm just about to warn him we're pushing it as we must be about to arrive, when he orders the computer to pause the 'lift.

"It'd never have worked for a man like you. Just imagine how hard it would have been to keep things to yourself the way you like to! And anyway," I go on, "she wasn't your type. She was too… calm and demure."

"Really?" He cocks his head. "And what would my type be then?"

"Strong, independent, fearless."

"Stubborn, fiery and redheaded?"

"You mean determined and passionate," I correct him.

"I do." He reaches for me and pulls me swiftly back against him. "And you're right, of course. I'll admit I'm more than a little partial to those qualities in you." He moistens his perfect lips as I watch. "No one does strong, independent and fearless quite like you do. Not to mention determined and passionate."

Then he lowers those same lips oh-so-slowly to mine, making me want to kiss him all the more for the anticipation. He has no business tasting this good early in the morning for a few stolen minutes in a turbolift – he's all mint and coffee – and his tongue gliding across mine almost makes me forget where we are. Then he pulls back a fraction – the man can be a real tease sometimes. "Although perhaps I should mention passionate," he says, low, "since you do that one so very well."

I slide a hand up his chest and pat his cheek, then push him to arm's length. "Why thank you, Captain."

He manoeuvres me back, holding me flush against him this time. "My pleasure, Admiral."

"I should hope so." I laugh, twisting slowly within his hold to face the 'lift doors and reluctantly breaking contact and calling for the 'lift to resume. I feel him lean down to softly kiss my neck once more from behind. "It's time we got back to the ship, you know," I remind him.

"It is," he agrees.

Even though I'd put it out of my mind until we saw off our guests, I'm well aware – as I know he is – that his call from Bajor is due in about an hour.

These past two weeks, despite the uncertainty ahead of us, I've been pleasantly surprised by how I've successfully managed to keep my worries about the future in check. They've been two of the most uncomplicated, joyful weeks I can ever remember – doing the work I love, alongside the man I love. A man who has loved me back so passionately and made me feel so cherished again that I'm sure I've been walking taller and smiling wider ever since I welcomed him back into my life.

The nightmares are lessening – or, at least, I don't remember them so often now. The sudden gasping resuscitations of the immediate aftermath of my return have been replaced by slower, more manageable awakenings. Chakotay doesn't have to bring me back so often from the brink of confused despair with the reassuring sound of his calm, soft voice, and his firm steady warmth, constant in the darkness. These days, I'm resurfacing renewed. And now, for the first time, I'm starting to believe in a future for myself that can be as solid, complicated and real as the man in whose arms I'm waking.

I'm the first to admit it's taken me a while. It wasn't until the two months of calm when we got back from the Full Circle mission that I first began to believe that the life I'd returned to might not be snatched away from me again. I began to wonder whether I might really be allowed to have all of this. But then, he left for Marsada – so suddenly – just as I was allowing myself to believe in that possibility, and it was a huge setback for me. Within minutes I'd reverted to my old ways of thinking about myself as someone whose emotional and romantic life is doomed to tragedy. And it actually made sense to me. I'd never had anything quite that good before and it seemed obvious that nothing that good could possibly be allowed to last.

But now? Now, despite all that, I'm daring to hope again. Now, it's even better than before and I wouldn't have believed that to be possible. It's better because I know - we both know – that we can survive a trial that extreme and still find one another again. Not only still need one another, but still want one another again. Still desperately want one another.

Perhaps Chakotay and I have finally come full circle – here we are, back on the same ship, and I'm still his commanding officer for missions like this one at least, but so much is different. We're different. I've made a point of trying to tell him exactly what he is to me – in a great deal more than just those three words. And whenever we've had time together, we've used some of it to begin our own very personal debriefings, where we talk - really talk – with a brutal mutual honesty that has shocked, liberated and refreshed me in equal measure.

We've touched on so many things: the agonising contradictions of those seven eventful years on Voyager the first time around; his unlikely relationship with Seven; getting home; finally finding one another and that unforgettable first night of unrestrained ardour, relief, elation and pure untarnished bliss. We've also spoken candidly about my 'entirely preventable' assimilation – he's still angry about that; about Venice and the death of hope for him; about his descent into chaos and his painfully slow rehabilitation; my improbable suspension and my even more improbable return; about Q sparing him and sending him back to me; and about the myriad of things that have happened during the twelve complicated months of my own rehabilitation that have passed since then.

Chakotay can be so candid with others – blunt, when needs be – but he's been too used to putting on the kid gloves when he's dealing with me. So, I decided they should come off too, given how much I appreciate him unrestricted by clothing of any kind.

I know he still holds back sometimes, but we've made a hell of a lot of progress. Some of our conversations have been difficult – the heat of his smouldering anger about the way I handled Kashyk both times we encountered him is something I'm unlikely to forget in a hurry. And I doubt Chakotay enjoyed answering the questions I've always avoided asking him until now about his – mercifully short – relationship with my former protégé. But I know this is how it has to begin if we're going to stay together. And now, finally, I'm convinced that we are. Partly because we survived the trials of the past month, and partly because my new life no longer feels provisional.

I haven't come back from the dead to the promise of a charmed life protected from any future pain. What I have is better than that; I've been allowed to come back to a real life. And I know that I'm more alive. The woman I am now would never dream of suggesting ten months of deferred gratification to the man I love.

So we've talked about all these things. About just about everything, except – ironically perhaps – what to do right now. We haven't quite gotten to the present yet and, after all, the past is a lot safer and a lot less volatile. In our defence, until Chakotay hears back from this counsellor he's had assessing Gabriel's situation, there are just so many unknowns. It would have been hard to do much more than speculate.

And speculate I most certainly have… During those quiet moments when my willing body is moulded in boneless contentment to Chakotay's side, more than once I've found myself wondering what it would be like to be his partner in parenting the serious little boy who loves the stars. Lying secure in the loving warmth of Chakotay's embrace, I've allowed these thoughts to form, even though certainly not all of them are calming. It feels safer somehow to entertain these thoughts than the ones whose tiny fingers curl around the edges of my consciousness when my guard is down sometimes.

Even though I'm no older than Sekaya was when she had her first child, I've never dared allow myself to imagine what it would be like for Chakotay and I to have a child of our own. What if I let myself want it – encouraged him to want it, more than I suspect he already does – and then it transpired that it isn't possible? Once you admit you want something, you can't just decide to stop wanting it. I have no intention of courting that sort of pain – or torturing a good man with it – or of allowing myself to be haunted by the beautiful, perfect faces of children I could never have.

So I decided. I'm too old, my body – not to mention my mind – has been through too much. The events of the past decade robbed me of that choice, and that's that. I don't want to be pitied. It is what it is. I have a rich and wonderful life and I'm a godmother, and that has to be enough.

These are the things I've told myself.

And it has been enough. Until now. And Gabriel.

Now, I find myself wondering what it would be like if Chakotay decides Gabriel should be with him – with us – as much as possible, rather than try to place him with anyone else. I find myself contemplating whole new landscapes of experience that I never thought I would have the chance to explore. I don't even have to think about it to know that Chakotay would make a wonderful father, but I have certainly wondered whether I would be up to the job of mothering a child.

I knew that as soon as this mission was officially over – which it is now that we've seen off our guests – it would be time to face the new uncertainty of this situation. Despite how much more secure I feel about things between us, I can't deny I'm more than a little apprehensive right now.

XxX

My preliminary report already made to Akaar, I leave the ready room I borrowed for the task behind and make my way down to find Chakotay.

The doors to the captain's quarters open in front of me to reveal him, standing in the middle of the room, hands on his hips.

"Yes. Thank you," he looks up mid-sentence, "you've done a great job. I couldn't have asked for a more thorough report."

I hesitate on the threshold, but he gestures for me to come in even though the Bajoran counsellor is still speaking.

"You're welcome, Captain. It was my pleasure. Gabriel was easy to work with, he relates very well to adults and he's an interesting child. I don't just mean his situation – I mean the boy himself. He seems old beyond his years somehow. My wife would say he has 'ancient pagh', if that means anything to a human."

"Yes, it does," Chakotay replies. "An 'old soul', we'd say."

I slip my jacket off and hang it over the back of one of the dining chairs.

"He's looking forward to coming up to the station this afternoon," the Bajoran goes on. "I suspect he's more than a little in awe of you still – you are captain of his favourite starship after all – but he's very keen to see you again, which is a good sign."

"I'm glad to hear that."

I hover just inside the room as Chakotay takes his leave of the counsellor. I'm well aware of how important this call is to him – I know he's been pinning his hopes on it providing him with some clarity.

Now he's closed the channel, I move over to join him in front of the viewport, the apprehension I'm feeling tightening the muscles around my mouth as I try to keep it from creeping into my gaze as well.

"So, what were his recommendations?"

I had presumed the call would have been over long ago, and I'd purposefully left it a while longer still before coming here, so Chakotay would have time to digest everything he's just been told. Or maybe I was just delaying this moment, I don't know. Perhaps I'm guilty of wanting to hold on to the present for as long as possible…

I see him take a deep breath and he smiles, with all the appearance of being completely at ease – although we're both well aware that he isn't.

"Well, he said a lot of things. He gave me a general report to start with."

As I watch him adopting his 'at ease' stance and clasping his hands behind his back, I recognise it immediately for the coping mechanism that it is.

"Gabriel is well-liked and respected by his classmates, and gets on well with other children, although he doesn't socialise with them outside school. He and Eduardo were very close and spent a great deal of time together. He loves science and math, but he hates his Belaklavion lesson – which isn't a surprise to me, since Roberto was tone deaf." He quirks an eyebrow. "Guess Eduardo's musical gene has skipped another generation. He has a good relationship with his teacher, but not one Toran Ren would describe as close; he doesn't have any really close relationships – other than with his grandfather. Apparently, he knows Sveta as well as he knows any adult, possibly a little better even, since she's stayed with them on several occasions during his childhood."

He pauses, his eyes on my face.

"He spoke with everyone who has responsibility for Gabriel – the family doctor, his teacher, and with several of Eduardo's friends who know him a little. Then he went on to make his recommendations about what happens now."

Nodding quickly, I turn and head for the replicator, gesturing to offer him something too. He shakes his head. As I stand with my back to him, waiting for my coffee to materialise, my pulse suddenly racing, it becomes harder to ignore my own state of heightened agitation.

"Faren Pallra has offered to take Gabriel in," he goes on. "You know that when I briefed Ren I told him I have strong reservations about Gabriel living with her. She's too old for one thing and the huge part her religion plays in her life would mean there'd be an obvious cultural mismatch."

As I turn to face him, a tension seems to expand out across the room to fill the space between us. "I know you didn't feel the atmosphere in that house was right for bringing up a child," I remark, as much to fill the space as for any other reason.

"No. I didn't," he confirms. "Apparently, both her sons and her husband were killed during the Occupation – which explains the large empty house."

"It also explains the quiet sadness that seemed to surround her."

"Yes, it does."

I take a sip of coffee, my eyes never leaving his. "So, if she and Sveta are the only adults Gabriel knows well, other than his grandfather, what did the counsellor suggest you do?"

Chakotay swallows, looking as uncomfortable as I've ever seen him. Something tells me that a pretty big part of him isn't ready to tell me anything yet. I find myself wondering if, despite everything we've just been through, he's still tempted to offer me some limited, selective truths here… His gaze drops to the floor for a second then he looks back up.

"He said that if I wanted to take Gabriel to Earth to live, he thought that could work. His assessment is that he's unusually self-contained for a child of eight, but that he's generally happy and well-adjusted, and once he's grieved for his grandfather, he'd cope with the changes as well as any child would. He believes the connection Gabriel has to the community he lives in isn't so strong that he'd suffer without it, as long as he has at least one adult who genuinely cares for him and who devotes time to him."

We both know Chakotay is trying hard not to watch my reactions intently. And we both know he's failing. I moisten my lips and swallow, still holding his gaze.

"Then, he went through the advantages of keeping him in the community he grew up in. He mentioned adoption."

Despite the deceptively even tone Chakotay achieves right up until the final word of that sentence, we both already know it'll be a cold day in hell before he puts Gabriel up for adoption – he can barely bring himself to say the word.

"Apparently," he continues, "if I insisted that the adoption agency find a couple prepared to encourage a scientific education, then they couldn't guarantee to place him in the community he's grown up in."

"That doesn't sound good." My gaze falls to the dark liquid in my cup.

"No. Neither Maiara nor Roberto would ever have agreed to their son being brought up without access to a scientific education. Even if I felt okay about leaving him on Bajor with no close relations – which I don't," he adds immediately, perhaps a little more forcefully than he'd intended, before he pauses a second. "For that reason alone," he resumes, his tone even once more, "I could never allow adoption."

"And Sveta?" I ask, fighting to keep my own tone even.

"Sveta is willing to take custody of him. She says she'd set herself up in a more permanent way on Earth."

"I see. And how do you feel about that idea?" I ask immediately.

"Gabriel relates well to her. He trusts her. It could work."

"But?" His eyes already betray how he really feels, but I was hoping he'd tell me. I think it's time we addressed the elephant that entered this room the moment Chakotay said that the counsellor didn't see any major objections to Gabriel leaving Bajor.

"There's a lot to think about."

That's something of an understatement, I'd say.

"But you'd rather have him with you?"

I watch him attempt to swallow away his discomfort.

"Ren said he thinks Gabriel relates well to me, for obvious reasons: he's spent his life with a male parent – an active older man; he already associates me with family and his dreams are all about flying between the stars in a starship. Ren said he thought the move would make sense to Gabriel, if it's what I want."

"And is it?" I press, because I need to know.

"Look, Kathryn," he takes a step towards me, dark eyes reaching across the space I'd put between us. "These past two weeks have been… so good, so important for us – and I know this complicates everything – again."

He shakes his head a little. His gaze drops to the carpet he's so fond of studying at moments like this and he sighs out a long breath. But, then he surprises me by looking up almost immediately and closing the distance between us. Gentle hands take my coffee cup from me and place it on the table. Then, suddenly, he's all around me, and, as I look up, his gaze is so direct that it feels like he's right inside my head.

"I heard what you said to Tom after we came back from the funeral, so I need to know how you feel about all of this now. It matters. You're one of the most compassionate people I've ever known, Kathryn, but I'm well aware that's no guarantee you're going to want to continue to share your life with a man who has a child you barely know in tow."

I lick my lips, swallowing the urge to look away as I cast my mind back. At the evening reception, I know I told Tom I thought it was likely Chakotay would ask Sveta to take charge of Gabriel – that I thought that could work, or words to that effect. I stand by what I said, but I just hadn't realised Chakotay was in earshot. Suddenly, I feel as if I'm being put on the spot, despite the fact this is hardly a surprise.

"Don't worry about us, Chakotay. Whatever you decide, you and I will be fine."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes. We'll be fine," I reaffirm.

"Okay." He nods, but I can tell that he isn't really satisfied with that answer. "I still need to talk to Sveta."

"Are you thinking about some sort of joint arrangement?"

"Do you think that'd be best?" he asks immediately.

I shake my head a little, the dynamic of this last interaction unsettling me further. "I couldn't say. I know very little about Sveta and there's so much to consider." Surely this has to be his decision? It wouldn't be right if I allowed him to be swayed by my reservations about my own suitability.

"Yes, there certainly is."

I can see in his eyes that he's understood I don't want to influence him, but I can't tell how he feels about that realisation or what he thinks it means.

"They arrive in a few minutes. We need to get down there."

"Okay. Look Chakotay – whatever happens, we'll adapt," I reassure him, squeezing his hands.

"I hope so," he replies, but his quiet words lack conviction.

[TBC]