Title: Shreds and Shards

Summary: Following both her mother's tragic demise, and her father's sudden disappearance, can Nevaeh Kotay manage to save them both by altering the past? Endgame AU.

Author's Note: A big, MASSIVE shout-out to my brilliant beta, scifiromance; I was really nervous about this chapter, but thanks to her I've managed to kick it into shape and I can't thank her enough! There's quite a fair bit of time jumping in this chapter, and I think I'd better explain. The first part is set around six months before Chapter 1; the second part is a little snapshot of the first Christmas after Voyager returned; the third is, well… it'll explain itself, and the last section is the continuation of Chapter 1 (there will be less turbulence as this story progresses). I hope you enjoy reading this, and I'll see you on the other side, so to speak ^_^.

7th January 2402

Nevaeh looked glumly at the window, counting the droplets of rain dribbling down the clean, clear glass. She normally preferred cold, rainy weather to bright sunshine, her reasoning being that it's easier to be cold and then warm up than to be too hot and unable to cool off. If it had been a regular day she'd have contemplated going for a walk with Tucker, hers and Cleo's lofty Pit Bull; but given the particular date she decided against it, wanting nothing more than to just curl up and sleep the rest of the miserable day away. She'd received the customary phone calls from those who thought it important to know that they were still 'thinking of her', even though they barely acknowledged her existence all throughout the rest of the year; these had only served to deepen her pensive mood. She'd called in sick at her college, San Francisco's 'Academy of Arts and Opera', unwilling to face the sympathetic faces of her friends and peers; this act had earned her an email of reprimand from her lecturer, Mr Joseph Brocknell, a thoroughly disagreeable man with whom Nevaeh had never really seen eye-to-eye. She hadn't made the best of first impressions on him: being deliberately cheeky and quick-witted in her first week had led him to tar her with the brush of 'trouble-maker', a title she had long-since given up on trying to shrug off. His overbearing ways often reminded her of another authority figure she didn't particularly go out of her way to impress: Admiral Kathryn Janeway, the same woman who'd driven her to tears at last year's reunion. "Tucker," she called, hearing her dog's whimpers, "Come here boy." Just because I'm miserable as sin doesn't mean you have to be, she added in her thoughts. She petted him on the head before gently kissing the top of his head. "Who's my lickle Tucker boy?" she cooed, shamelessly indulging in a stream of 'baby speak' that made the object of her attentions wag his tail in delight. "Love you so much!" she exclaimed, grabbing him and placing him on her lap like he was still a little puppy. "Okay, boy! I know you love me, you can stop now!" she squealed, both delighted and grossed out by the amount of dog dribble that had been transferred onto her face from Tucker's over-zealous show of affection.

When Tucker finally calmed down she reclined further back into her chair, basking in the sounds of the youngest three Paris children enjoying their day at home; their respective schools had sent the majority of teachers on a course explaining the new curriculum. Screams of "It's MINE Lexi' and "Is NOT Luna' echoed from the twins, whilst Avia just shouted at them every now and again to 'Shut up!' Their banter and conversations provided a strange sort of comfort for her; reminding her of when she was a kid. Her father, for the brief time he'd been in her life, had been very big on family, despite only having a short bloodline himself. As a young child, Nevaeh had never shied away from her 'adoptive Voyager family'; as her father used to say: 'Blood may be thicker than water, but friends are the family that you choose for yourself.' Nevaeh had taken his word solemnly, and it was that particular piece of advice that had led her to her current position; sprawled out in her old bedroom at her godparents' house after sneaking in whilst the adults were upstairs in the office. The children had noticed her, of course, but they were easily quietened down with a warning look and a handful of chocolate each.

"Nevaeh Madeleine Kotay." B'Elanna Torres said, walking into the room where her goddaughter sat with her dog. "Not that it isn't always a pleasure to have you around, but why aren't you at college?"

"No particular reason, Auntie Bee; I'm just tired." Nevaeh answered, knowing instantly that B'Elanna didn't believe her. The older woman rolled her eyes, but decided not to pursue it any further, reminding Nevaeh of why she thought of her godmother as more than just an honorary aunt. "I didn't want to go in and have everyone staring at me like they have to be extra careful on the tenth anniversary." she offered, casting her eyes furtively to the ground, "I got the round of calls from people saying that they were 'sorry' again. It's a pity that none of them actually mean it."

"They do mean it sweetie," B'Elanna soothed, sitting down beside the young girl, "We're all sorry that he's gone."

"But you don't understand," Nevaeh exclaimed, raking her hands through her unwashed hair. "I don't want people to be 'sorry' anymore. I'm sick of all the backwards glances and whispered conversations of 'oh look, there's the poor little orphan girl'. I've dealt with his not being here; why can't everyone else?"

"I understand more than you think I do," B'Elanna replied, wincing as she recalled her own fatherless adolescence. Nevaeh cringed as she remembered the stories she'd been told about Paris clan's maternal grandfather; though he was quite heavily involved in all six of his granddaughters' lives, he still shared a somewhat dysfunctional relationship with his own child. For a fleeting moment, Nevaeh wondered how she'd react if her father suddenly appeared out of the blue one day, expecting some sort of relationship with her and her future children. She felt a sudden rush of respect for her godmother's restraint and patience; she knew that would probably not welcome her own father back quite the same level of acquiescence.

"You know, Auntie Bee, I'm really happy that I got the chance to grow up with you guys," she said, smiling a grieved grin. "I've never once felt like I didn't belong."

"We do try not to treat you any differently from the rest of our girls," B'Elanna replied, stroking Nevaeh's long hair comfortingly. It had been difficult, at first, to take a grieving ten-year-old girl into her, already full to the brim, household, but they'd managed. They'd held her through her night-terrors, sorted out the issues at school, and had even taken her along to the odd Klingon festival (they didn't attend that many) so that she didn't feel excluded from family life. Seven's former protégé, Icheb, had been particularly helpful; even going as far to renovate his office into a bedroom for Nevaeh for the one weekend a month she spent with him and his wife, Ayra. He often insisted that it was not a problem; Nevaeh was something of a comfort to the couple who'd been painfully unsuccessful in their attempts to have a child of their own. Even now, despite Nevaeh being in her twenties, they still saw a lot of her, so strong were the ties that bonded them. "You're a part of this family as well, Nevaeh, don't you ever forget that."

"I won't," the young girl replied, grimacing as Tucker sneezed over her hair. "I think I'm going to have a wash. Do you mind watching Tucker for me?"

"Go ahead" B'Elanna said, laughing at the dopey dog, who'd rolled over onto his back in anticipation of tickles, "There are fresh towels in the closet."

20th December 2387

"You know, 'Vaeh, you won't grow to be big and strong if you don't drink all your milk." Chakotay said, smiling inwardly as his daughter pouted.

"I don't care," she retorted, folding her arms across her chest and giving her father a pointed look. "I don't like it, and I'm not going to drink it." She knew that she was being rude and misbehaving terribly, and she didn't really mind the taste of the milk at all; it was the temperature that was the problem. She could only bring herself to drink milk if it was freshly cold from the fridge, and this particular glass had been sitting on the kitchen worktop for fifteen minutes. She knew she was fighting a losing battle, and that she'd have to drink the milk before she went to bed, but it was a matter of principle now, or so she'd managed to convince herself.

"Nevaeh," Chakotay warned, lowering his tone; he rarely had to tell his daughter to do something, usually just asking for her compliance was enough. "You are going to drink this milk before bed, or you can't have your advent calendar chocolate tonight." He wasn't all too sure why he was having this particular disagreement with her, the phrase 'Choose your battles wisely' came to mind, but she'd been sulky all day and hadn't done anything she had been told to do. He'd ignored it for the most part, putting it down to sleepiness, but her refusal to drink something that she usually asked for every night had been the straw that broke the camel's back, so to speak.

"But... but" she stuttered in disbelief. "You have to eat advent calendar chocolate at Christmas; it's the law!"

"Well then, young lady, if it's the law I suppose I'll have to let you eat your advent calendar," he said, wishing for the billionth time that day that Seven could have been there with them; surely she could have found a way to make their daughter drink her milk without resorting to bribery and empty threats of taking away treats. "And since it's the law that you have to do as your father tells you, you'd better drink up." His daughter, despite her quite grown-up way of presenting herself to the outside world, was subject to bouts of naivety that showed her tender six years of age. She had barely grasped basic life on Earth; the sudden upheaval of everything she'd ever known had affected her more harshly than Chakotay had anticipated it would. It was their first Christmas away from Voyager, and although they were both looking forward to it they both secretly yearned for the old crew to reunite for the occasion. They kept this wish a secret from the other however, not wanting the other to feel as though they were not enough.

"Are you sure that's the law, Papa?" Nevaeh questioned, a disbelieving look on her face. "Because I don't think it is."

"Would I lie to you?" he said, sitting on the chair opposite from his sulky offspring; it was not really the official law, of course, that Nevaeh should do everything she was told, but it's part of the law of common sense, he reasoned with himself.

"I suppose not," Nevaeh conceded, sighing in a way that made Chakotay wince as he thought how alike Nevaeh was to her late mother; she had always been regretful in defeat, and their daughter was no different. "Can I put it back in the fridge to cool down before I drink it? I don't like it when it's not cold."

"You promise me you'll drink it?" Chakotay asked, pleased when Nevaeh nodded her agreement. "Okay then, go and brush your teeth while you wait." Nevaeh groaned with the irony of it all; if there was one thing she hated more than lukewarm milk, it was the new banana-flavoured toothpaste she'd begged Chakotay to buy for her. It was only after he'd purchased the yellow tube and she'd used it that she remembered that she didn't like bananas; but it was too late by then, and he'd refused to get her a new flavour, saying that she'd learn from experience. "Well, do you want your teeth to rot?" he questioned teasingly, laughing as she picked up her pace on the way to the bathroom.

17th January 2392

"... He was last seen around the entrance of San Francisco General at six PM last Monday, wearing his official Starfleet uniform" Harmony Harper, 'StarfleetTV's' top reporter said, detailing Chakotay's disappearance to the viewers of the 9 o'clock news. "He stands at six foot five, and weighs in at around 180 pounds. A distinctive tribal tattoo is on the left side of his forehead, and he is thought to be in the general San Francisco area. If you have any information, you can contact the police at..."

"Turn it off, Tom." Admiral Janeway ordered wearily, annoyed with the chirpy voice and optimistic tone of Harper's report. Most of Voyager's Senior Officers had reunited in light of Chakotay's sudden disappearance; the only exceptions being the Commander himself, and his late wife, Seven of Nine. "Do any of you have any clue as to where he might be?" she asked in a slightly more friendly tone.

"No, we haven't; and even if we did, don't you think we'd have told someone by now, Kathryn?" B'Elanna snapped, not caring that she was speaking out of turn. "This just isn't like him!" she stressed, rising from her seat to attend to Avia, her two-month-old baby; "He wouldn't just leave like this without a word, especially considering that Nevaeh's been so unwell."

"It is somewhat unusual," Janeway replied, trying to be rational despite being put off by B'Elanna's dismissal of her 'title'. Of course, as the former Chief Engineer didn't work for Starfleet anymore she was not obligated to abide by formalities, but it was another tradition broken, and another nail in the coffin that had been Voyager. "Speaking of the little lady, where will she be staying until Chakotay's been found?"

"With us, obviously." Tom said, juggling the remote and a spare orange he'd picked up from the desk. At the sudden outbreak of insistent offers, nearly everybody wanted Nevaeh to stay with them, Tom became angry. "I don't care if you all want her to stay with you. Don't you think she's been through enough in these past few months, what with all the upheaval? She has her own bed at our house, and an entire wardrobe full of her own clothes. It won't be ideal for her, to suddenly have to come and live with us after being in hospital for so long, but it'll be a lot less intrusive for her to stay with her godparents than with people she only sees once or twice a year!"

"It would be for the best," Tuvok, one of the only two people to not demand that Nevaeh stay with him, agreed. "If I can be of any assistance, Mister Paris, please let me know." he offered to the father of four, who smiled gratefully at the unexpected camaraderie. The rest of the senior officers mumbled their hesitant agreement, each of them suitably chastised.

"Same goes for me, guys, if there's anything you need. I'll let Icheb know about the situation when I get back to Starfleet." Captain Harry Kim offered. "He'll probably also want to know what he can do to help you guys out; you know how much he cares about Nevaeh."

"Thanks Harry," Tom said, relieved that the others were starting to see his point. "I'm sure she'd be flattered to know that you all want to look after her, but she's going to have enough to deal with without having to get used to someone new."

"Where is she now?" Janeway asked.

"She's still in San Francisco General." B'Elanna replied. "We'll be picking her up on our way home."

"Does she know about Chakotay yet?"

"Well," B'Elanna said, looking down at the table, "She told me that he said 'goodbye' to her on his last visit."

"Oh" Janeway whispered, also lowering her eyes. She placed a hand over her eyes and made her voice quieter still; "Chakotay, how could you?"

"What's the matter with that, guys?" Harry asked. "He was leaving, he said goodbye, so what?"

"It's not goodbye, Harry." Tom said. There was a hint of something in his tone; anger, regret? "It's 'see you later', 'until next time' or 'I'll be back soon'. It's not goodbye, it's never goodbye!"

"You mean...? You're saying that he left. On purpose?" Harry replied, floundering slightly in disbelief. "He wouldn't do that. He'd never do that!"

"I beg to differ." B'Elanna interjected, passing Avia to Tom. "You don't know what he's been like since Voyager made it back. He's felt guilty about Seven's death ever since it happened, but these past four years have really opened a lot of old wounds for him. To be honest, his recent behaviour reminds me of what he used to be like as our Maquis Captain. He's been irritable, snappy, and angry; it's like he wants revenge for what happened to Seven."

"But, Nevaeh-"

"Oh, he's fine around her; she's pretty much the only thing keeping him going, or at least she was."

"I just can't believe it." Harry said, his brow crinkling with confusion, "He's always been so... so sane. To just leave without a word to any of us is crazy."

"Wouldn't you be, Harry? If you lost Melinda do you think you'd still be sane?" B'Elanna argued, jumping up from her chair as if it'd scalded her. "How could I have been so stupid?"

"What are you talking about?" Janeway asked, her head snapping up in sudden interest.

"I should have known this was coming." B'Elanna ranted, pacing around the room. "He gave me all sorts of hints. He'd ask me if I'd be there for Nevaeh if anything was to happen to him; he'd ask us to have her at our house for weeks at a time. I never minded; Nevaeh's like another daughter to me, but it's like he's been preparing us all for this."

"Preparing us all for what?" Janeway questioned, urging B'Elanna to continue despite already knowing the answer.

"For his leaving." she finished, lowering her arms dejectedly.

3rd August 2402

Family portraits hung above the mantelpiece, each with its own story. A picture of B'Elanna and Tom on their wedding day had been placed in the middle, the centre of a spider's web of pictures and memories. The Doctor had managed to replicate a camera to capture the magic moments following the birth of Miral, his first godchild; the end result being a grainy picture of a besotted father, a relieved mother, and a happy, contented little baby. Cleo's birth had seen the same treatment, except that it had been Cleo's own godfather, Harry Kim, who'd taken the picture. As they'd been appointed to be Nevaeh's godparents, there was also a snapshot of Seven, Chakotay, and Nevaeh taken just minutes after her birth. It was one of the only three photos taken of the three as a family before Seven's death, the other two being official Starfleet portraits. Voyager's fourth eldest, and last baby had been Talia. Miral was holding her in the picture, with the rest of the family standing and sitting protectively around. It had been a slightly different story with Avia. Born six years after Voyager had returned home, she had been born in a local hospital. B'Elanna had been wary about someone other than The Doctor delivering her baby, but due to a fluke with the working hours, he had been able to calm her fears by delivering Avia himself. The photo contained the entire family, excluding Nevaeh, who'd been in a different ward in the same hospital with a chest infection. They'd been unable to take a picture following the twins' birth; they'd been two months premature and had to be kept in incubation units for eleven weeks. The family portrait with them, taken when they were three months old, had contained everybody who'd attended the birth; all five of the other girls, B'Elanna, Tom, The Doctor, Icheb, and the twins' godfather, Tuvok.

B'Elanna stared at the visual documentation of her family life, an existence that she'd known for the past twenty years, with a particular fondness. She found it especially fascinating to see how she'd gotten older; an activity not so cherished with other women of the same age, but one she enjoyed nonetheless. She often looked at her husband's progression through the years also; seeing him turn from a fresh-faced optimistic young man who'd never been quite so comfortable in his own shoes, to a still-optimistic older man with more than a few 'laughter lines' and a twinkle in his eye, never failed to make her smile and thank the heavens that she'd managed to find him. "What are you thinking about now?" the man in question asked, walking into the room with a two plates of chocolate cake.

"Nothing much, just reminiscing." she replied, taking the plate he offered her with a nod of thanks. "Did the girls go to sleep okay?"

"I think so. Lexi keeps whining about something Luna said to her whilst they were at school, but other than that they seem to be fine." Tom said, casting an arm around her waist before pulling her gently down onto the couch beside him.

"Next time I think I'll just take them shopping with me," B'Elanna said, relaxing into her husband's embrace. "The girls made such a mess of Nevaeh's kitchen; I don't think she'll be offering to babysit again anytime soon."

"Well, I actually got a call from Cleo asking if we'd be okay with her and Nevaeh taking the twins, Avia, and Talia to the funfair next Friday."

"Brave, foolish girls." B'Elanna stated, shaking her head amusedly. "I don't have a problem with it, you?"

"Nope. Besides, it'd give us a bit of alone time, haven't had that in a while, have we?"

"What is this 'alone time' you speak of?" B'Elanna teased, setting her plate down onto the coffee table. Tom did the same, taking care not to knock over the two glasses of wine that stood precariously on the edge of the glass tabletop. They sat together in silence for a while, each contemplating the past and how things could have turned out differently. In the space of five minutes they'd ended up curled up against one another in a position that would have once been awkward for the both of them, her head on his chest and his arm around her waist; but over the years they'd become closer and more comfortable with each other, and unconsciously sought out comfort from the other. "Do you think it's stupid?" she asked, her voice thick with relaxation.

"What do you mean?"

"The reunion; do you think it's stupid that we still go every year despite knowing what's going to happen?"

"I don't think it's stupid at all; optimistic might be the word for it though. I keep thinking that I'll walk through those doors one year and see the entire crew as we used to be, all happy and friendly. I keep expecting to see everyone we've lost along the way sitting there with a glass to toast with, and a smile on their face. Every year I'm sure that The Admiral's speech will be a little more positive, a little more cheery. Yeah, optimistic is the word; I really don't know why we bother going. Every year it's the same, I can sum up next year for you right here: Someone's pregnant, a few people have had kids, some are people sick, and another friend is dead. I swear, every time we go we lose a piece of what Voyager used to be."

"I know what you mean." B'Elanna replied, sighing as her husband confirmed her worst fears; he too had lost all hope with their Voyager family. "We can't just not turn up though, I think the reunions are the only thing keeping some people going. If they dry up completely it'll all be over, and Voyager won't exist anymore. The ship will, the tin walls will be noted down in history books and Starfleet records, but our story will be forgotten if we all just abandon each other like the journey never happened."

"I suppose it's better to cherish the few pieces we have left." Tom agreed. They were silent again for a few minutes, and they both took the time to reflect on the reunions; some had been good, others tainted with more than just the due amount of sadness.

"I saw him the other day," B'Elanna said, stifling a wayward yawn. Her half-closed eyes were aflame with sorrow and a hint of anger.

"Really?" Tom asked in the same tired tone. "What do you think he wanted?"

"I have no idea. He just sat there and stared at me, didn't move a muscle."

"What did he look like?" Tom asked, being careful to keep his voice neutral and unassuming; the man had been his friend once, after all.

"He looked pretty much the same." B'Elanna replied, huddling closer into her husband's embrace. "He's lost a lot of weight, though, and his hair is nearly all silver now. The thing that struck me most was how utterly lost he looked. His eyes were so, so... It just looked like he was begging to be let back in, like he wanted to be given another chance, but I just didn't know-"

"It's okay, 'Lanna, it's okay." Tom soothed, stroking her back comfortingly. "Listen to me. He could have come back at any time in the last ten years to make things right but he didn't. He could have come back and worked for his family, for his forgiveness, but he didn't. I won't have you feeling sorry for a man who abandoned his daughter; you know how much that can affect someone, how it messed you up for a while, would you have wanted anyone to feel sorry for your dad?"

"I guess not." B'Elanna agreed, wiping away a stray tear. "But I don't think I'd be able to ignore it if I ever see him again. It's stupid that I'm still so mad with him after ten years. I have all these questions I want to ask him."

"Everyone has, babe, but he chose to leave, and that's the only thing that really matters. There have been times over the years when I've wanted to pack it in and just be on my own for a while, but I love you and the girls too much to ever leave the way that he has. It might not have been his fault, but that kind of weakness is unforgivable. I know it's hard for you to have to watch the past repeat itself, but you have to let go of what he used to be." It pained Tom to have to speak these harsh words to his wife about the man who'd been a great and dear friend to the both of them, but they both knew that she needed to hear it, despite her soft whimpers of protest. "B'Elanna, look at me. If it'd been me that had left you and the kids for over ten years and you suddenly saw me one day, what would you have done?"

"I'd have killed you where you stood," she muttered, burying her face in his chest once more. She waited for his reply of something witty, something to lighten the mood, but it never came. All that arrived were gentle caresses of her back and hair, and murmured words of comfort that meant both nothing and everything. What upset her most about Chakotay's 'disappearance' was that he'd been the first man who'd stuck by her, despite seeing her at her worst. He'd been, to her, almost a second father, an alternative voice of reason. He'd pulled her out from the murky depths of a downward spiral and polished her into someone who'd shined. They'd fought, both with one another and with the rest of the world, and he'd promised her that he'd always be there for her. His leaving hadn't just affected his sole heir and only surviving member of his bloodline; it'd also destroyed a part of her.

AN2: I know, I know... What the he-double-hockey-sticks is going on with Chakotay? I promise that everything will become clear in future chapters, so try and trust me with this! Please review and tell me what you think! ^_^