"I made your favourite." (Janeway Family)

Author's Note: SPOILERS for "The Autobiography of Kathryn Janeway" by Una McCormack.

/

"Why would you do this, Mom? How could you?"

The question came out quietly, but with force, even as Kathryn could hardly believe she was asking. She'd meant to make this a happy reunion with her mother, honestly she did. There had been hugs and real coffee and caramel brownies and family news, and she'd had every intention of keeping her anger to herself, just like she'd kept it out of every message she wrote from the Delta Quadrant. It was all the little things around the house that kept rattling her composure: tiny boots and mittens in the closet, stray building blocks between the couch cushions, a school schedule on the fridge door, and most of all the holos and drawings everywhere on the walls. Four little girls. Three brunettes. One redhead. What was wrong with her, to be angry at the existence of an innocent child?

But Kathryn was angry, deeply and undeniably so, and her mother should know it.

At least Phoebe, her wife and the children weren't here yet. At least they could have this out in private.

"How could I do what?" Gretchen retorted, just as quietly, her blue eyes white-hot with anger in return. "Love you? Miss you? Nurture whatever I had left?"

"You had something left. I share your DNA, remember? So do Phoebe and the girls. Wasn't that enough?"

"I thought you were dead, remember? We all did. We thought you were never coming back. Just like your father."

Gretchen folded her arms in her long cardigan and glared up at her daughter. Grief had aged her alarmingly, first for her husband, then for her oldest daughter. Her salt-and-pepper hair was all white now, her skin papery over sharp cheekbones. This made Kathryn, who used to idolize her beautiful young mother, feel a whole new kind of bitterness; it was as if an alien intruder had taken Gretchen's place.

"So you thought - what, you'd go to a lab and cook up a replacement? Just like that?" She snapped her fingers sarcastically, knowing how childish she sounded, but it was how she felt. Like she'd gone away and come home only to be replaced.

"Of course not," said Gretchen, her voice faltering for the first time. "Is that what you thought? Oh God, Katie, never. No one could replace you. I just hoped …I know you planned on having a child someday, or you wouldn't have had your genetic material preserved the way you did. I wanted to help that child into the world, since you couldn't. Snatch back at least a little bit of the future that was taken from us. Amelia is my second chance, is that so hard to understand?"

Gretchen had always had a whimsical side that her scientist daughter never quite understood. This was what made her so successful in writing for children. Still, this was taking creativity in a very strange direction.

"A second chance? What does that mean?" Kathryn folded her own arms. "Are you going to turn her against Starfleet, is that it? Discourage her if she ever shows an interest? Raise her to be like you and Phoebe, instead of a dangerous liability like me?"

This was an old grudge, she realized, one she'd carried long before Voyager had ever left the Alpha Quadrant. She had so hoped that her rivalry with Phoebe was outgrown by now, but no matter how old they grew, they were still the same at heart. Phoebe had always been their mother's girl and Kathryn their father's, and after Edward's death, that left Kathryn the odd one out.

"Don't think I haven't been tempted to do just that," Gretchen retorted grimly, "Starfleet took too much from me already. But I wouldn't. I've never once tried to stifle any of you girls, and I'm not about to start now."

Gretchen shuffled over to the Christmas tree by the mantelpiece in the corner. Its collection of handmade ornaments made it obvious how unique every generation of this family was. Kathryn saw her own clumsy straw stars, Phoebe's angels and bells, Yianem's hand-painted ceramics, and an eclectic collection the children must have replicated. Someone was evidently fascinated with Starfleet. There were IDIC symbols, little starships, even a Galaxy-class model that looked like Voyager.

Yes, Gretchen had always encouraged her family to be themselves. She had been - and most likely still was - a wonderful mother and grandmother, which was exactly why this hurt so much. Kathryn had been homesick so long that she'd idealized both place and people, but Gretchen was only human and could make mistakes.

"I just … it feels like you gave up on me." Kathryn swallowed back her tears, but they rose anyway. "It was … what, a year? You gave me up for dead so fast."

"Oh, Katie … " Gretchen's chin trembled. It was like looking into a mirror. "It was just the opposite. I did what I did because I couldn't let you go. I know it was wrong … I know it was a breach of your autonomy … You have every right to be angry with me, but please, don't take it out on her."

"As if I would," Kathryn scoffed. Amelia wouldn't be the first child for which she took responsibility. Thinking of those other children, however, made her see the situation in a very different light, and that humbled her. If this were an ex-Borg, an alien refugee, a shipmate's child or even a young Q, Kathryn would not hesitate to look after her.

Why was it so much more complicated with her own daughter? Would it help if she simply pretended to have picked up a baby in the Delta Quadrant? Surely the origin story shouldn't matter either way, as long as the little girl was cared for?

"I know I said I wanted children someday, but I don't feel ready," she confessed. "After everything that happened out there, It's … it's hard enough holding myself together sometimes. I don't know how to be a mother."

"Yeah, well," Gretchen said, "Two kids and four grandkids later, neither do I."

The weary, self-deprecating rasp of her alto voice, the way she pinched the bridge of her nose and turned away, the way she stared out the window at the snowy yard outside … How many times had Kathryn withdrawn to her ready room - after Tuvix, after Seska, after the Equinox, after Teero, after Quarra - and done the same thing while looking out at the stars?

Her mother was a woman carrying years of grief and responsibility on her shoulders, a woman who doubted herself and was afraid, but hid it because she wanted to be strong for those in her care. It all reminded Kathryn inescapably of herself.

No wonder I'm so mad, she thought, and then: No wonder I have to forgive her.

She put a careful hand on her mother's shoulder, causing her to turn around. Before she knew it, they were hugging. For the first time in their lives, it was her mother who had to stand on tiptoe. She smelled just like she always had, like paint and coffee and flowers.

"What time will they get here?" Kathryn asked gently, holding out an olive branch with her tone if not her words.

"It shouldn't be long now," said Gretchen in the same tone. "It's getting dark outside. Shall I light the candles?"

She gestured to the Adventskranz that stood on the coffee table: an evergreen wreath with four candles, one for every Sunday in December. Gretchen's German ancestors were honored in their house just as much as Edward's Irish ones. Kathryn had loved to watch the wax melt and the candles flicker when she was younger. "We'd better wait. Wouldn't want them to burn out before A … before the girls get to see them."

"You're right." Gretchen settled into an armchair, picked up the heavy coffee pot with visibly shaky hands, and held it poised over Kathryn's empty cup. "Would you like some more? I made some caramel brownies, too. Your favourite."

"Yes, please," said Kathryn, resisting every impulse to grab the pot herself. "You have no idea how much I missed real coffee beans out there."

It would take a while for trust between them to grow back, she realized.

But until then, politeness was a start.

/

Christmas was not supposed to happen until December 24, Earth calendar, but on the fourth of Advent, when Amelia Janeway - "Mia" to family and friends - went with her aunts and cousins to visit her grandma, she found the best present ever sitting next to the tree.

"Your mom lives on a starship far, far away," Grandma had explained to her once, when she'd asked why her cousins had two mothers, but she didn't have even one. "She's on her way to you as fast as she can fly, but we don't know how long it will take. Either way, your Aunt Phoebe and Aunt Yianem and I love you just the same. You know that, don't you?"

Mia did know that, of course, but she couldn't help being curious.

She didn't see much except a uniform and red hair at first, because her aunts and cousins had all piled on the new visitor into a group hug. Audrid was old enough to still remember Mom from before, and even Lena and Maeve knew so many stories they felt like they knew her. Everyone was laughing and talking at the same time. Mia wasn't usually shy - the opposite, actually - but somehow, she found herself hanging back, playing with the end of her red ponytail and scuffing her house slippers on the floor.

She'd imagined this moment so often, but now it was happening, she was dizzy with nerves. What if her mother didn't like her?

"Here she is, Katie," Grandma called, in an odd, strained voice that made Mia wonder if she was nervous too. "This is Amelia. Mia, dear, come and meet your mother."

The group hug cleared. Mia found herself looking up at a strong, elegant face, with bright blue eyes and a square jaw just like Aunt Phoebe's, and an expression she couldn't read. In that moment, her mother's face was as still and mysterious as the artwork their family had in all their homes.

"Um … hi," Mia squeaked.

"Hello, Mia." The sculpture came to life and held out a hand. "I'm pleased to meet you."

"Are you?" Mia couldn't help asking. "Really?"

"Well … I was surprised, to say the least, when I found out about you," said Mom. She had a nice, warm, crackly voice like Grandma's, which Mia could listen to for ages. "But now that I see you, I think we're going to be good friends."

That was enough for Mia. She ignored the offer of a handshake and gave Mom the biggest hug instead, one that she'd been saving up for six whole years. With a gasp and a short hesitation, her mother hugged her back, running a gentle hand down the length of her ponytail.

"Were you really in the Delta Quadrant all this time?" Mia asked as they let go. "Is it true you met Amelia Earhart, the pilot? I'm named after her. She's cool. What's Voyager like? Were there any kids there? Did you have a lot of adventures? I wanna know everything!"

"Honey, let her breathe," said Aunt Phoebe, smiling as she put an arm around Mia's shoulders and led her away to the coffee table. "Sit down before you start bouncing off the walls. Grandma made brownies, look."

"My favourite!" Mia cheered, launching herself toward the table.

"Mine too," said Mom, blue eyes twinkling. "You have great taste"

Grandma watched Mom with the strangest look on her face as she started passing around plates. It was almost as if she still missed Mom, even though Mom was right there at the table with them. Mia couldn't understand it. Still, the candles on the advent wreath were pretty, the brownies were yummy, and Mom's smile was just as nice as everyone else's.

She was right, Mia decided. They really were going to be good friends.