Part Two

Haahil

The next two weeks are spent much like the past two. I share meals with my sister and her family, and my niece and nephew worm themselves further and further into my heart. Ixhaan has us all over to her home for meals and continues to treat me like her own son. Muluc had a brother who died in the war, and although I know I could never replace him, I think she is grateful for having another man in the house. She asks me to take Muluc under my wing, and I find myself beginning to act like an older brother to him as well as Sekaya.

I spend every spare moment working on the new room. Muluc and I made good progress in the first two weeks. The basic structure of the addition is already complete, but now, I work with newfound vigor. I don't examine my motivation for this. I tell myself I simply need something to keep me occupied. When the room is finished, I start to craft furniture - a four-poster bed, a small bedside table, a sitting chair.

The kids have already started calling the new room "Kathryn's room." Sekaya said it one night, and Xaman overheard. Of course, whatever Xaman says, Eme repeats, and the name stuck, much to my chagrin. The children can't wait to meet the famous captain of Voyager, even though Sekaya and I have both told them repeatedly that Kathryn is just a friend coming for a visit. I don't want them to embarrass her or make her uncomfortable. The situation might be uncomfortable enough as it is. Some days I can't understand what possessed me to invite her. Even with her own room in the cabin, will she feel at home sharing such cramped quarters with my family? What is she going to do with herself on Trebus? She'll be just as bored as she was in Indiana - maybe even more so. And more than that, I fear that things between us will be awkward and strained. I worry that after only a few days, we might find each other intolerable, and her long trip will have been for naught.

On the morning of Kathryn's scheduled arrival, I take out my Starfleet communicator, which has been buried in my duffel bag for the past several weeks. She will contact me when the Enterprise makes orbit, and I don't want to miss her call. All morning, I am filled with nervous energy. I try to channel it into a project, but I don't seem to be able to focus on anything. I go for a run and a swim, and when I get out of the water, I feel refreshed. Still not at ease, but more peaceful than I felt earlier. I've just gotten dressed in a pair of brown trousers and a cream colored tunic when I hear the muffled static of my communicator.

"Janeway to Chakotay."

The phrase evokes such a strong sensory memory that for a moment, I freeze. I've heard her say that thousands of times. Probably tens of thousands. But all those times, I knew the context. I knew who she was to me and who I was to her. Now, I feel as if I know nothing. But the moment passes, and I am surprised how easy my voice sounds when I respond, "Chakotay here."

"The Enterprise has dropped into orbit. I'm ready to beam down at your convenience."

"Any time," I respond, and I realize I'm smiling as I walk out onto the lawn and give her the beam-down coordinates.

Eight seconds later, I hear the low hum of a transporter beam, and Kathryn Janeway materializes in front of me wearing a casual, light blue dress, at her feet a standard Starfleet issue duffel. Our eyes lock and we stare at each other as she taps her communicator. "Janeway to Enterprise. I'm all set here, Captain. Thanks for the lift."

Picard's powerful baritone voice replies, "Glad to hear it, Captain. Enjoy your vacation. Picard out."

Her link to the outside world is severed, and she looks up at me and smiles that crooked half-smile of hers. "Hi."

"Hi." I think I am grinning like an idiot as she steps towards me and gives me a quick hug. "How was your trip?" I ask, once she's stepped back.

"Uneventful. Picard and I have crossed paths a few times over the years, but this was the first chance I had to really spend time with him. And of course Will Riker and I are old friends; it was good catching up with him."

"Rekindle any old flames?" I ask. I can't resist teasing her about her one failed date with Riker, a story she told me a long time ago during one of our late night chats aboard Voyager.

"Hardly. You know he and Deanna Troi are back together."

"Really?"

"Yes. I guess they found the fountain of youth last year and it brought them together again."

It takes me a moment to realize she's not joking. I haven't had much desire to catch up on Starfleet mission logs from the past seven years, so I am frequently behind the times. I pick up her duffel bag and gesture to the cabin. "Let me show you to your room."

"I thought I'd be sleeping in a tent."

I shrug. "I've had a lot of time on my hands these past few weeks." I see her glance in my direction, her expression unreadable, as she follows me inside. "The living quarters are pretty small. I hope you'll be comfortable. We tend to spend most of our time outdoors in the summer." I show her the tiny kitchen and point out the other two bedrooms. Then I open the door to 'her' room.

"You did all of this?"

I put her bag down on the floor, feeling my heart swell with self-satisfaction at the awe in her voice. "With some help from my brother-in-law. Do you like it?"

"It's wonderful, Chakotay. Thank you."

I clear my throat awkwardly. "Well, it seemed like the cabin was awfully small. I couldn't even sleep in it with Sekaya and her family. Adding another room only made sense."

"Of course."

We look at each other, and there is a moment of uncomfortable silence. I clear my throat again and suggest, "I'll make some lunch while you get settled in."

"Thank you."

I beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen, where I prepare a plate of fruit and cheese, and one of vegetables and hummus. "I'll meet you outside," I call, and when I hear her acknowledgement, I walk down near the lake and arrange the food on a picnic blanket. It's not long before I see her sauntering down the hill from the cabin. Her hair is down, and the breeze blows it in her face, so she has to keep brushing it back, out of her eyes. The dress is very flattering on her, I notice, the v-neck accentuating the fullness of her breasts, while the cinched in waist emphasizes the sway of her hips as she walks. Spirits, she's beautiful, I think. And then I wonder when I stopped thinking that on Voyager. I don't have much time to ponder the question, though, because she reaches the picnic blanket and sits down across from me, curling her legs off to one side and supporting her weight with one hand.

"This looks delectable," she says, gesturing to the spread of food.

"Thanks." My voice sounds lame to my ears, but she doesn't seem to notice. "You look relaxed," I blurt out.

She laughs easily. "I am. I'm more relaxed than I have been in years." She looks me up and down across the picnic blanket, and I feel bashful under her appraisal. "You look relaxed, too."

For the past four weeks, I haven't felt self-conscious. I haven't monitored my own thoughts, feelings or behavior. I have simply allowed myself to be. But suddenly, around Kathryn, the person who I felt most at home with on Voyager, I find that I'm judging myself constantly. Haahil, I remind myself. "To be honest with you, I don't feel very relaxed right now."

She looks away from me for a moment and when she speaks, her voice is soft. "I know." She pauses. "For seven years, we saw each other every single day. Now we haven't seen each other in over a month." Her blue eyes look up into mine and I am shocked by the openness and transparency of her expression. "This feels a little awkward, doesn't it?"

I'm almost speechless, but I manage to say, "Yes."

She reaches across the blanket and brushes my fingers with hers. Her touch is electric, and it jolts me fully into the moment. "That's okay, isn't it? At least it means this is real. At least it means we can both feel something."

There's that lump in my throat again, the one I keep having to force away. I swallow hard as it dawns on me that perhaps Kathryn does understand some part of what I feel, after all. "Yes."

She breaks my gaze and takes some fruit and cheese from the platter. I feel for the first time that I am really here, sitting across a picnic blanket from Kathryn Janeway, and that sitting across from her on a picnic blanket on Trebus might not be that different from sitting across from her in her ready room, or at the dining table in her quarters on Voyager, or at some alien banquet hall. The conversation gets a little easier.

I tell her about my time on Trebus, about Sekaya and Muluc, Xaman and Eme, about Ixhaan. I warn her that they are all very excited to meet her. But truthfully, I don't want to talk about myself. I want to hear about her. I want to know how she has been since the debriefings, what she is thinking of doing with her career, whether she's been pondering the same questions that I have about the past and the future. But I don't quite feel up to asking her these questions yet. So she tells me about her mother and her sister. She tells me about Phoebe's two boys, Harrison and Lucas, twins, who are just a little younger than Xaman. She fills me in on some of our crew - Harry's promotion, Icheb's acceptance to Starfleet Academy. She's brought a recent holo-snapshot of Miral, now a little over two months old, and I can't believe how big she's gotten in the four weeks since I've seen her.

Before we know it, we hear the screaming voices of children as Xaman and Eme come racing down the hill, Sekaya close behind them. The introductions go all around. Eme clings shyly to her mother's leg, but Xaman is outgoing and self-assured. I see that Sekaya and Kathryn like each other immediately, and some of my nerves dissipate.

Muluc arrives a little later, and we fire up the barbecue. He and I cook while Sekaya ushers Kathryn into the cabin. I'd die to know what they're talking about in there, but I'm sure I never will. After dinner, we start a bonfire down by the lake, and the kids roast marshmallows. Xaman, who has been very well behaved all evening, can't contain himself any longer. "Kathryn," he says - she has insisted that the kids call her Kathryn, "will you tell us about the Delta Quadrant? Please?" His mouth and hands are covered with sticky marshmallow as he reaches for another one to put on the end of his roasting pole.

"What did we talk about, Xaman?" Sekaya admonishes. "I'm sure Kathryn doesn't want to spend her whole visit talking about the Delta Quadrant."

"No, it's all right," Janeway replies with a wave of her hand. "My nephews, Harrison and Lucas, love to hear about the Delta Quadrant, too. I've gotten lots of practice at telling stories." She winks at me across the bonfire. I have rarely seen this side of Kathryn, and I have to admit, I'm enjoying it. She starts to recount the story of how aliens entered Tom's Captain Proton program and thought that the holodeck was our real world. I watch Kathryn in the firelight, the way it glints off of her hair, the way the corners of her mouth lift up in a smile, the way her hands move as she narrates the story in detail.

When Kathryn finishes the tale, Muluc tells his son it's time for bed. Eme is already asleep. Sekaya says she's tired and is going to turn in, too, and Kathryn and I are left alone by the fire. I add some wood. "I have a case of Antarian cider," I offer. "Care to join me?"

"How could I pass up an offer like that?"

I run up to the cabin for a bottle of cider and two glasses. I fill them and pass one to Kathryn. We clink glasses. "Cheers."

We sit in silence for several moments, listening to the crackling of the fire and the muted sound of water lapping against the shore. She breaks the silence, her voice soft and velvety. "Your family is wonderful, Chakotay."

"I know." I smile. "I'm lucky I get a second chance."

"I think we all got a second chance. Coming back after so long, it almost feels like we were dead and then came back to life."

"That's the second time today."

"Second time today for what?"

"The second time today you put words to a feeling I've been unable to name for the past four weeks." I pause, taking a sip of my cider, and steal a glance at her face. She looks pensive. "Kathryn, why did you think I'd be so broken up over Seven ending things between us? What did she tell you?"

She seems surprised by the question. The truth is, I've surprised myself a bit, asking her so bluntly. I guess the honesty I've been practicing is becoming a habit. She takes a deep breath, appearing to wrestle with a question of her own. Finally, she says, "It wasn't because of what Seven told me."

"Then what?" She looks at the fire, her lips pressed tight together in a thin line as I think about the emphasis she used in the sentence, trying to puzzle out her meaning. "It was because of something someone else told you. Who?" She doesn't move or speak, but I've seen the haunted look in her eyes before. I saw it when... "The admiral. It was because of something the admiral told you." Silently, she nods. "What? What did she tell you?" We are sitting on the same log where Sekaya and I sat and talked on my first night here, and I move closer to her.

"In her timeline, you and Seven were married. Seven died in your arms. She said she was never the same after that, and neither were you."

I have no idea what to say. So many things fall into place - Seven's unexpected change of heart in astrometrics, Kathryn's sudden distance, "Mister Chakotay" - she hadn't called me that in years - her reaction during our subspace chat the other day. It all comes together in one shattering instant. There is pain, confusion and fear in Kathryn's eyes, and she's making no attempt to hide her feelings. My first instinct is what it has always been - to comfort her, to shield her, to protect her. I place a hand on her shoulder and give it a squeeze. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I'm sorry you had to carry the burden of that knowledge alone. Although, I think the admiral must have said something to Seven, too."

"Yes, she did." She leans into the pressure of my hand.

"Kathryn, the admiral's timeline is gone, now. Everything is different. Seven isn't going to die. And her breaking up with me certainly is not going to destroy me, okay?"

One side of her mouth turns up in half a smile. "Okay."

Simultaneously, we let out a breath. I take my hand from her shoulder. Some of the tension has eased between us. I look down at our empty glasses. "Now how about some more of that cider?" She doesn't refuse.

Over the next two days, we settle into our friendship in a way that is both familiar and new. It turns out my fears about Kathryn sharing a small cabin with my family were unfounded. She gets along beautifully with Sekaya, and the children adore her. By the second day, even Eme is jabbering away at her. My worries about her boredom were equally groundless. She reads, jogs and swims. I think she loves the lake almost as much as I do, and she doesn't mind the relaxed, spontaneous lifestyle, either. She is content to spend hours alone, and equally happy to participate in group games. She even starts teaching Xaman to play tennis using a couple makeshift rackets we managed to patch together. I am reminded several times a day how much fun we actually have together; this is something else I had forgotten somewhere along the line. The layers of walls, protocol, duty, self-imposed restrictions and self-control that we built up over the years slowly begin to come down, and I start to think that maybe our friendship grew from more than simple necessity, after all.

"Chakotay, hand me the soap, will you?"

Kathryn has been here for four days, and we've already managed to establish a morning ritual - a five kilometer run followed by a 'bath' in the lake. The bathing suit she's wearing today is black, a one piece suit with an open back that reveals an expanse of smooth, creamy skin, and a neckline that just barely skirts the tops of her breasts. I have to admit, it's a little distracting. But I make myself focus on the task at hand and throw the soap to her. "Catch." She catches it, and I rub some shampoo into my hair, then swim out into the bay to rinse it out. As I swim back to shore, I notice Kathryn struggling to reach the middle of her back with the soap. I pull myself up to my feet and go to her. We stand near the dock, and the water laps at my thighs. "Here, let me help."

"My arms just aren't quite long enough," she laughs, handing me the soap.

I smooth it over her back and then place it on the dock. I rub my hands over her warm, soft skin, creating a lather of bubbles. Instinctively, my hands find the tension in the muscles along her spine and in her shoulders, and my fingers start to work to relieve it. My fingers are at the base of her scalp, working through the tension there, when I hear her moan softly. The instant I realize what I am doing, I freeze. She turns around, and her eyes meet mine, questioning, but open, as if she is seeing a possibility she never saw before. But this time, I am the one who backs away, breaking the moment. "You better rinse off."

She cocks her head to one side, and I try to gauge whether she is surprised, disappointed or relieved. She smiles, and lets the moment pass, undiscussed, as if it never happened. "Yes, I better." And then she is gone, swimming out into the bay, leaving a trail of soapy bubbles in her wake.

That night, Ixhaan invites us all for dinner at her home. She is anxious to meet Kathryn and instantly adopts her as part of the family, just as she did with me. I should not be surprised how 'at home' my former captain is with my family in a rustic village on a backwater planet, but I am. I've forgotten that she can be as at home on her hands and knees in the dirt tending vegetables as she is commanding the bridge of a starship.

Ixhaan has made a huge traditional meal - quinoa porridge, tamales, salsa, pozole, tortillas. We are in the midst of eating when Ixhaan asks, "How long do you plan to stay on Trebus, Kathryn?"

Kathryn looks at me, again a question in her eyes, and opens her mouth to answer, but before she can get a word out, Xaman says, "She's not leaving. She's always going to stay here."

I nearly choke on my food, and my sister comes to my rescue. "I don't think so, Xaman. Kathryn has a job to get back to at Starfleet."

My nephew looks genuinely confused, and he turns his big, dark eyes on Kathryn. "But aren't you going to stay here and be our tilla?"

I can feel the warmth in my cheeks, and I know my face must be completely red. Eme smiles from her booster seat and repeats, "Tilla." I am too embarrassed to look at Kathryn. I am too embarrassed to look at anyone, so I stare at my plate, trying to formulate an appropriate response.

Again, my sister saves me. "Kathryn is like a part of our family, isn't she, Xaman?" He nods eagerly. "Well then maybe you should ask her if she'd like to be your honorary aunt."

"Ho-no-ra-ry?" My nephew tries out the word.

"Yes," my sister continues. "She would be your aunt because she wants to be, and because you want her to be, and because she's like a member of our family. But you have to understand, Xaman, that Kathryn's not a part of our family. She has her own family, back on Earth."

My nephew considers this, and I wonder if he really understands what Sekaya is saying. But he seems to, because he turns to Kathryn and says, "Would you like to be our ho-no-ra-ry aunt?"

Kathryn glances at me, as if seeking my permission. I'm sure I'm still red in the face, but I shrug. It's okay with me, I suppose. Then she turns back to Xaman. "I am honored that you want me to be part of your family, Xaman. Of course I accept."

Xaman and Eme spend the rest of the meal talking about all the things they want to do with their new aunt, and Ixhaan's question goes unanswered. I am silent for most of the meal, even though my sister tries several times to involve me in the conversation. It's not intentional, but I find myself giving short, abrupt answers, and soon, Sekaya leaves me alone. After dinner, Kathryn helps my sister clean up the kitchen while Ixhaan plays with the children.

I find myself alone on the porch, sitting in one of Ixhaan's old rocking chairs. I hear the screen door open and expect to see my sister, but instead, it's her husband. "Mind if I join you?" he asks.

"Go ahead."

He hands me a cold beer and sits down on a big wooden chest next to the rocking chair. We drink in silence for a few moments before he says, "I'm sorry for Xaman's comment at dinner."

"He was just being a kid."

Muluc chuckles. "He was being Xaman. We should have named him nuuk chi."

I laugh. Nuuk chi. Big mouth."I put my foot in my mouth plenty of times myself. It's all right. It just caught me off guard, and I was afraid it would make Kathryn uncomfortable."

"I thought she handled it pretty gracefully."

"Yeah, she did."

"So what's with the two of you, anyway?"

I take a long sip of my beer. "Good question."

"It seems like you must have gotten pretty close out there, working side by side like that for seven years."

"We did. But there were some lines we never crossed, and our friendship is built on that. I think it's too late to change the parameters now."

"Well, would you want to, if you had the option?"

"I don't know." I don't tell my brother-in-law that I'm scared of what would happen if we did - that we might lose everything - but I do say, "We had some pretty spectacular fights over the years."

"You made it through them. Obviously. Or else she wouldn't be here now."

"Yeah, I guess that's true."

Muluc glances into the house to make sure no one is eavesdropping on our conversation and leans in closer to me. "She's a babe, Chakotay. I mean, she's not my type, but I can appreciate beauty when I see it."

Of its own accord, my body remembers the feeling of her soft skin under my hands as I washed her back that morning. "I can't argue with you there. It's funny, I used to think about her all the time, a long time ago, in the early years. We spent six weeks alone on a planet once, just the two of us. Believe me, that fueled my fantasies for years."

"When did you stop thinking about her?"

"I don't know." I've never thought about this before, and I try to pinpoint a moment in my mind, but I can't. After Ransom maybe? After Quarra? "When I realized they were just fantasies, and always would be - fantasies fueled by something that might have happened once but never did - and never could. That was when I knew I had to stop thinking about her." I'm surprised how easily the words come. I've never talked about this with anyone, not even Sekaya, but somehow, my brother-in-law makes conversation easy. I don't feel like he's judging me or like he has an opinion about what I should do. I know what my sister thinks I should do, what she thinks would be good for me, and all our conversations are clouded by that prejudice. But Muluc just listens. He just asks. We just talk, man to man, brother to brother. My brother has been gone for a long time, and even when he was alive, we didn't speak this way. I realize that Muluc, too, lost his brother, and probably values our new relationship as much as I do. "But this morning, down by the lake, I just found myself thinking, damn, she's hot."

Muluc nods appreciatively. "If you weren't thinking that, brother, there'd be something wrong with you."

I study my brother-in-law for a moment. I've come to see over the past few weeks that he is a good man. Honest, kind, caring - just the type of guy I would want to see with my sister. They have made a beautiful family and a good life together. They are not the only people I have witnessed doing this; Tom and B'Elanna have done the same. But to me, it seems impossible. I know that people can do it, but it's something I have never been successful at. After disasters like Seven and Seska, how can I trust my own taste in women? How can I trust that I could be as good a man, as a good a husband, as good a father, as my brother-in-law is, after all the things I've seen and done? I've made so many choices in my life that I would never want my own son or daughter to emulate. "How do you do it?" I ask softly.

"Do what?"

"You were in the Maquis. You've seen horrible things. You've killed people. You've broken the law. How do you explain that to your son?"

Muluc exhales loudly. "I haven't, so far. When he gets old enough to understand, I'll tell him."

"What if he doesn't understand?"

"You mean, what if he thinks I'm a murderer and a criminal?" I nod. "Well, from a certain point of view, he'd be right. But I'd like to think he's my son, and when the time comes, he'll understand." I think about my own relationship with my father, and how little we understood each other until it was too late. "But even if he doesn't, he's my son, and I'll always love him." Muluc pauses and looks at me closely. "It's hard to open up after the things we've seen. I know you and I have led very different lives, but we've both experienced betrayal. We've both lost many, many people we loved - family and friends. It's hard, after that, to trust someone with your heart. It's hard to trust yourself. It's hard to let yourself go, to surrender yourself to love, because you think if you let yourself feel love, you'll feel hatred and anger, too. You're afraid that if you let yourself feel all the way, if you give up whatever control you've established, you're opening yourself up to pain, to betrayal, to losing someone you love again."

We sit in silence for a long time as I allow his words to digest. "How did you do it?" I finally ask. "How did you open up to those feelings again?"

"I don't know," he replies honestly. "I just did. I still struggle with it on a daily basis, but Sekaya helps me. She doesn't give me a choice. With her, I always feel something. Even if its frustration, it's something."

At that moment, the screen door swings open. "Am I interrupting?" It's my sister.

"Nope." Muluc wraps an arm around her and pulls her close to him, resting his head on her stomach.

"We should get going," Sekaya says, running one hand through her husband's hair. "The kids should have been in bed an hour ago."

I drain the last of my beer and stand up. We all bid Ixhaan a good night and thank her for the wonderful meal. Sekaya and her family head back to their home in town for the night, and Kathryn and I decide to walk back to the cabin. It's a nice night - cool but not too chilly, and the air smells fresh and clean. In a familiar gesture, she slips her arm through mine as we walk, and a comfortable silence stretches between us as we take in the calm, quiet evening.

She is the first one to speak. "Chakotay, about dinner tonight... I don't want you to feel like I have any expectations about us. I love our friendship, and I'm very grateful for it. I came here to see you, to see my friend. No ulterior motives."

"I love our friendship, too, Kathryn." I pause. "But I think my family has other ideas."

She laughs good-naturedly. "Don't worry about it, Chakotay. I was flattered by what Xaman said."

"Don't get me wrong. You're a beautiful woman, and an amazing person. Maybe if we had met at a different time, under other circumstances..."

"It's all right, Chakotay," she says softly. "I cherish our friendship. That's enough for me."

"I just don't think I can be what you need, Kathryn."

Her voice is barely more than a whisper, and I can't tell if I'm meant to hear her when she replies, "How do you know what I need?"

I don't know how to answer her question, or if she even meant for me to hear it, so I say nothing, and we walk on in silence. She slips her arm out of mine and lets her hands swing freely at her sides. "The Enterprise will be back in a few days. I should send Captain Picard a subspace message tomorrow, see if they can bring me back to Earth."

"You're welcome to stay as long as you like."

"Thank you. I appreciate that, Chakotay, but I really should be getting back to my own family. And I need to start putting some serious thought into what I'm going to do after the next two months are up."

"What are your options?"

"There's been a lot of talk about the admiralty. I need to decide whether that's something I want to pursue."

"Oh. Congratulations, Kathryn. That's wonderful."

She offers me a lopsided smile. "Thanks." She asks me what I think I will do when my leave is expired; I tell her I haven't thought about it much yet. I need to look into my options. She asks if I would like her to make some inquiries, and I tell her I'd appreciate that. We slip easily back into business mode, and when we arrive at the cabin, we say goodnight and retreat to our separate spaces - she to her room, and me to my tent. But I can't sleep, and when I finally do, my dreams are plagued by Cardassians, burning Treban villages and the ghosts of my long-dead family.