It had been a week since they had escaped the evil clutches of the demon Mara, but the trauma she had inflicted still lingered over much of the crew, especially Kathryn. She hadn't been herself since they'd been back. She seemed distant, depressed, and she withdrew even from Chakotay. She refused to talk about her sleeping patterns, but he knew she wasn't getting enough rest. Twice in the past few days, he had woken to her screams, so loud, and agonizing that he could hear it through the bulkheads. Both times that he went to check on her, she refused to see him.

He couldn't sit around any longer. Yet again, he heard her screams, and yet again, she was ignoring him. As he went to exit his quarters, he saw movement in the hall out of the corner of his eye. It was Kathryn. He wasn't sure where she would be going at this hour, but he decided to follow her. He waited a few minutes and then asked the computer to give him her location. Holodeck one. What could she be doing in the holodeck? He thought.

As he walked into the program, he saw her sitting by the window, a look of sadness, and a deep longing had taken over her features. He stood in the center of a small house, there were no pictures on the walls, no carpeting, and no furniture except the comfortable chair she sat in. She was staring outside, he could see from the spot where he stood that it was snowing.

He slowly and quietly walked behind her chair, curious to see what she was looking at. It took him a moment to register who the figure in the distance was, but the moment that a little boy ran to his side, he knew. Father and son were making snowballs and throwing them at one another, not much was heard other than their distant laughter. Every few minutes, the two would face the window and wave.

"You followed me," she stated.

He was startled, unaware that she knew he was there. He moved from behind her to stand next to the chair. Her eyes never drifted from the window.

"I've been worried about you," he admitted.

"I'm fine," she said harshly.

There was a silence. She did not wish to speak, and he did but was unsure how.

"How often do you come here to watch them?" he asked hesitantly.

"I used to come once a year on the anniversary of their death."

There was a small pause. She took a deep breath and spoke in a slightly softer tone, one that almost sounded guilty.

"Since our ordeal, I've come every night."

She finally peeled her eyes from the window to look up at him.

"The day after the accident, I asked the nurse to tell me what the baby would have been. She told me he was a boy. A son...I almost had a son. He would have been a young man by now."

He could see the dried tears that left trails down her cheeks, soon to be mingled with the fresh tears about to fall. He had an urge to wipe away her tears and take her in his arms, but before he could move, she turned back to look at her almost family.

"I keep him a little boy here because I can't resist. I think I would have liked this stage as a mother. It's after all the diaper changing, but before they can really start to argue with you...it's the age when they look at their parents and see their heroes, two incredible individuals who can do no wrong. Justin would have made a great father. I like to think I would have made a good mother. I come here to watch, never interact. I just want to watch them be happy together. Together is how I like to imagine them wherever they are."

He knelt down next to her and took her hand.

"Why didn't you tell me about what happened?" he asked.

She shook her head and glanced at him. Her hand pulled away from his before she spoke.

"Once someone knows what happened, they never look at me the same. There's always a hint of pity in their eyes. My mother, Phoebe, hell I even catch Tom looking at me like that sometimes. I didn't want you to see me that way, as someone so broken...as someone to feel sorry for."

"I don't-" he started, but she cut him off.

"Yes, you do. Ever since we got back...you don't look at me like you used to, and it's killing me."

He tried to analyze the past few days to think about whether she was right. Perhaps she was. He hadn't looked at her the same, he couldn't, but it wasn't because of pity. He took her hand again and held it tight, not letting her pull away. She refused to open her eyes.

"You want to know what I see when I look at you? I see someone strong. Strong enough to keep going, after everything important in her life was ripped away in an instant. I see a leader, a fighter, a brilliant, kind, funny, and beautiful woman. I also see someone who's scared. Scared to love again because every time she finds someone, they're taken away. I can't promise that nothing bad will ever happen again, but I know that very little could keep me from fighting my way back to you. This experience proves it."

He gently cupped her cheek and made her face him. She opened her eyes slowly.

"I am sorry that this happened, and I'm sorry that you had to deal with so much pain, but I do not look at you with pity. I love you, Kathryn. I love you more right now than I ever have before because you're finally letting me in, finally showing me all of this pain you've kept bundled up. Don't pull away from me now."

With a small sob, she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his neck. He comforted her as she cried, but his heart nearly stopped when he heard her faintly say: "I love you too."

He kissed the top of her head.

A short while later, she stopped crying and smiled at him for the first time since they left sickbay a week ago.

"We should probably leave," she said, taking one last glimpse out the window.

HE ordered the computer to give him a chair next to hers, and he took a seat.

"No, let's stay. I want to hear more. What was his name going to be?"

She smiled a soft and slightly sad smile and told him stories of another life.

FOUR YEARS LATER

"Mm...do we have to get up?" Kathryn asked groggily.

He chuckled, basking in the warm glow of the sunlight as it flooded their bedroom.

"I'm perfectly content to keep you in bed all day if that's what you desire," he said, kissing her neck, working his way down her shoulder.

"Well, maybe that would have been an option a few months ago, but unfortunately, your daughter has decided that kicking my bladder is her favorite new activity."

He laughed, wrapping his arm over her waist and placing his hand on her stomach.

"Why don't you just take a while to relax, take a bath. I'll get breakfast ready for my two favorite girls," he said, kissing her cheek.

"How did I get such a thoughtful husband?" she moved her hand over his and laced her fingers through.

"I'm not sure. How did I get such a wonderful wife?"

She chuckled and turned over to kiss him properly. After they separated, he helped her up out of bed and knelt down to kiss her rounded stomach.

"Be good for your mother, little one," he whispered.

Kathryn wove her fingers through his hair, closing her eyes and telling herself to savor this moment.

"We should probably try and come up with some name ideas... I'm due any day," she said.

He stood up, and with a knowing smile, he made his suggestion.

"What about Elizabeth? Lizzy, for short."

She smiled back at him.

"I like it."

"I know you wanted to pick a family name, but maybe we can do that with the next one," he said, moving to toss a shirt on.

Kathryn scoffed and placed his hands on her hips.

"Next one? When did I agree to a next one?"

He ignored her questions with a smirk and walked towards the door.

"I'll go work on breakfast." he chuckled.

"Chakotay! This conversation is not over," she said, laughing in disbelief.

He made his way downstairs with a silly grin on his face, trying and failing to figure out how he'd gotten so lucky.