Third and final day on beta shift.

Was that really all it had been, three days? Seemed like about three weeks.

He was sitting in the mess hall, having dinner alone; Kathryn, B'Elanna, Tom and Harry were all on alpha shift. Ayala was still on the night shift for one more night.

Chakotay was quite capable of seeking out others to sit with and talk to. He'd done that for the last two days, but this evening he was tired and didn't want to have to make an effort. He'd chosen the stew. It was very hot. Really very hot, looked vaguely radioactive. It'd take a while to be cool enough to eat. He sat back in his seat and looked out of the viewport, and his mind drifted back to the beginning of the week.

The morning after they'd spent that evening on the holodeck, he'd commed her to suggest brunch. Knew she'd need to sleep in.

"Sorry Chakotay, pancakes do sound tempting, but Tuvok's already persuaded me to take a Vulcan breakfast with him this morning. I'm on my way to his quarters now."

Then later that morning...

The shift changes Tuvok requested weren't extensive; pretty straightforward actually; since there just weren't too many ways you could reconfigure it. Easiest way was for him to do a straight swap with Tuvok himself, for the part of the week when Tuvok usually covered beta shift. Just for a couple of days or so. That was the most logical solution. Would be, wouldn't it…

He had wondered whether Kathryn would get anything out of the meditation Tuvok had mentioned. He'd never heard of that one. He'd wondered what a Vulcan could even mean by 'formative significant stabilisers'? He'd thought they stabilised themselves? He clearly needed to brush up on his Vulcan cultural and spiritual knowledge.

Later that same day, Chakotay had intended to comm Kathryn and suggest they meet for lunch or dinner, but it was clear now she'd be busy with her meditation session. Tuvok had also mentioned that she was going to for a walk later, in airponics, with Kes.

Odd really, Tuvok didn't often volunteer information – on any topic, let alone other people's social arrangements. Perhaps he was lightening up? All this time spent confined with humans was finally rubbing off on him? Hmm... If not that, then perhaps he was making an effort to detail her movements, as a way to provide reassurance that she was recuperating well and there was nothing to worry about. Chakotay knew even Tuvok couldn't have missed how shaken he'd been by what had happened to her. Perhaps it was time he tried harder to give the Vulcan some credit? However condescending and arrogant he could be, there was no question as to his devotion to Kathryn. Perhaps this was his way of acknowledging he'd been worried about her too - in as much as he was capable of worry...

Chakotay had briefly considered still contacting her to suggest dinner, but he knew she'd probably want to have some time to herself, before going back on duty the next day. When he'd got back to deck three after dinner in the mess hall, he'd rung her chime just to check in and say 'hi' but she hadn't answered. Probably in the bath. He'd commed her later and they'd had a brief comm chat before she turned in; she'd said she was fine and ready to go back to work.

Not actually having seen her all that day just hadn't felt right. He had wanted to build on the developing closeness of the previous evening, consolidate it. Follow up on some of the things they'd talked about. He'd expected some continuity. He'd expected she would've felt the same.

Apparently she didn't.

The following day, their paths had barely crossed, she'd returned to duty and he was swapping shift cycle. She was already asleep when he'd finally come off duty.

On the third day, he'd gone to find her to share a coffee at least, but during the hours when they could've found a window together, she'd been in a meeting, and then, later, he'd been involved in managing a personnel issue that had taken time and energy to resolve.

The day after that, B'Elanna had made a point of fixing a new time to play hoverball with him, saying he'd have to do more than change his shifts to avoid getting a thrashing, so he'd had no opportunity to seek Kathryn out that day either.

On the night she'd invited him to the holodeck, as he'd gone to collect her from her quarters, he'd convinced himself that as long as they could have the new found closeness that seemed to be developing between them, then he could accept the constraints of their unspoken agreement.

By the end of the evening, he'd found that to be less true.

That evening had made him want more. She'd seemed different, more open, warmer, closer in every way, so it'd been impossible not to think about all they could be to each other, without constraints of any kind. By the end of the evening, he'd found himself quite far from acceptance actually.

On more than one occasion that night, he'd come so close to forgetting his resolve to stay within the lines she'd drawn for them. Almost without realising it, he'd been about to lean in and kiss her at one point, before his brain had caught up with where his heart had been leading him. It had just seemed like a natural progression – would've felt right. It'd taken all the self-restraint he had not to just follow his heart anyway in that moment.

He wasn't used to interrogating his heart about what it wanted. It hadn't been an option for years, so it didn't come easy. He could always have detailed immediately the demands of the Maquis, the demands of the leaders of his home colony, or his demands on behalf of his crew. But as for the demands of his heart? He honestly hadn't thought about it in years, until those weeks on that planet with her, a few months ago. The decimation of his home colony and the harsh life of conflict he'd fallen into in the aftermath of that destruction had caused him to disconnect completely from the part of himself that had once entertained his personal aspirations and ambitions for the future.

This unlikely exile in the furthest corner of the galaxy had actually brought him some unexpected gifts. Freedom from constant pursuit. A new sense of community. Peace, some of the time at least. A new mission. A chance to reclaim part of the identity he'd been forced to give up by the turn of events back home. And her. The strength of feeling she could inspire in him had started to reconnect him to parts of a more profound, but long-neglected sense of self. That part with the aspirations and ambitions for the future.

It'd felt so damn good, so right, to have her beside him that night. He couldn't shake the feeling that the closeness they'd begun to share was exactly what both of them really needed. They were both old and wise enough to know when something was real. This was no impulsive infatuation.

When he'd got back to his quarters late that night, he'd lain flat on his back on his bed, still fully clothed. He'd still been able to feel her slender hand in his.

He'd found himself asking the spirits for more.

He realised he knew what he wanted. He'd begun to think about the future recently, and, if he looked into his heart, the 'more' he was asking the spirits for was clear. If he was brave enough to own all his desires, then he would have to accept that he wanted more than just the possibility of a life for himself and his crew back in the Alpha quadrant. What he really wanted was all that and a future with her.

Then there'd been four days of nothing.

XxX

So, here he was, four days later, with minimal contact and any certainty he'd felt about the closeness he'd thought she'd been encouraging fast starting to dissipate. He remembered what his father used to say about the wisdom of anyone who asked the spirits for more than they had been given.

Right now, he would have been grateful just to have the promise of that new closeness back. Forget the 'more'. But even that seemed to have evaporated.

She'd made no attempt at all to spend any time with him.

Breakfast with Tuvok, walks with Kes, unavailable a couple of times after that. He started to wonder if she was actually avoiding him? He'd barely seen her, other than for a brief professional handover on the bridge at the end of her first shift back. She'd said she was fine, but she had seemed tired and still a little off-balance somehow. Not surprising; it takes time to digest and make sense of that sort of experience. But it seemed that they were very much back to being captain and commander, just as before. Any other dimension to their interactions he'd perceived recently seemed to have been a mirage.

Perhaps she felt uncomfortable about that night? Perhaps on reflection she'd decided it'd been ill advised to spend so long with him, alone, on what had actually felt like a date. To him at least.

On this, his third day on beta shift, he'd gone into her ready room to leave a PADD and couldn't help but notice that the photo of her fiancé seemed to have migrated right back to the centre of the desk.

He'd been hoping the damn thing might migrate into a drawer some time soon.

He forced himself back to the present and looked down at the plate of food. Didn't look too bad. Still looked very hot. It was indeed still too hot to eat - still bubbling actually. He reviewed a PADD, then found that his thoughts drifted back to the photo again.

That man with his perfect looking, stable, planet-side life. Framed there with her dog. Dog probably adored him.

Probably lived in some picture-perfect cottage, with climbing roses trailing over the gate. His home was probably a tastefully subtle fusion of the traditional and the modern. Just like Kathryn. The man was a respected academic, prominent in his field. Probably belonged to a high profile family, just like Kathryn. His distinguished grey hair added to the sense of gravitas and confidence that surrounded him. He clearly didn't feel the need to take supplements now, did he?

It was possible this man wouldn't have waited for her - that he would've moved on. Chakotay considered this, but felt unconvinced. Kathryn was the sort of woman a man would wait for. She wouldn't be easy to forget or replace. Somehow Chakotay felt sure that her fiancé wouldn't have given her up for dead yet, even though it'd been three years.

So – let's get this straight then; what was it exactly that Chakotay had been hoping for these last few days?

Hoping that they could find a way to combine their command of the ship with a personal life here together…and then, in the event of them making it back one day to Earth, hoping that she would decide to trade all that she had with this man for the possibility of some sort of life with him? Was that really it?

What sort of life was it likely to be anyway?

At worst, arrest and incarceration. Great. Hard to see how he could sell that one to her…Visitors' rights versus life with Mr Stylishly Silver-haired Academic Genius in the cottage idyll?

At best, the chance to make a new start, if the situation had changed significantly enough. And, in that best-case scenario, he could offer her what exactly? Life as the partner of an ex-freedom fighter or ex-Starfleet traitor and ex-terrorist, depending on your perspective?

No, actually. It gets worse.

If he was honest, he couldn't even guarantee the 'ex' part.

It'd depend on what Starfleet had allowed the Cardassians to do these past three years. Even if the Maquis' conflict with Starfleet had come to an end for good reasons, he couldn't swear he would definitely want to re-join the Starfleet fold.

Just thinking about what the situation might be now with the Cardassians had made him involuntarily clench his jaw. A tension began creeping insidiously back through his body. A tension that had once become so familiar he'd stopped registering it. Now that it was no longer his constant companion, he noticed its intrusion.

He flexed his neck to one side and made a conscious effort to relax.

Even if the conflict had been resolved, Starfleet brass would never trust someone like him again. He felt that in his bones. Not for years. He'd have to prove himself all over again. He wasn't even sure he wanted to do that.

But as Starfleet had been her whole life, perhaps he'd be prepared to try and negotiate all that for her sake?

Perhaps. It was certainly a possibility, but he still couldn't promise that. Not even for her. He couldn't just pretend to be someone else for the sake of expediency. He wasn't ashamed of his decision to leave Starfleet and join the Maquis. He had made it in good faith. He wasn't about to become an apologist for his convictions. Not even for her.

Even in the best-case scenario, would she really want to be connected intimately to someone like him? How could it not affect her career? She was a rising Starfleet star, anyone could see that. And if they did make it back, she would return a hero. But what would the media make of her coming back in the arms of the terrorist and traitor she had been sent to capture? He could already imagine the clichés spilling out of the leader lines on the news vids. Copywriter's field day.

OK – that could be hard, but imagine it all dies down eventually, she handles it all with her considerable diplomatic skill, and her career survives intact...then what? She would want a base on Earth – she missed her mother and sister a great deal. So if he wanted to be with her, they would have to set up on Earth.

Another wall.

Earth.

He had precious few connections on Earth. He didn't know where his remaining family would be by now, but it was very unlikely they'd have chosen Earth. Didn't know if they were still alive. The vast majority of his friends were in the Maquis, and had avoided Earth for years. Earth had always meant Starfleet to him, and he'd already hit the first wall, thinking about trying to fit in there again.

Following her, on this ship, was very different to answering to Starfleet Command. He had nothing but respect for Kathryn's interpretation of Starfleet principles. He'd left the Alpha Quadrant with nothing but contempt for the absence of principle of Starfleet Command.

So, to sum up then…life with a man she's known and possibly loved all her life, no doubt well integrated already into her circle of friends and probably already an honorary member of her family, or a life of uncertainty and difficult readjustment with him?

He knew what was real between them here – they had a strong and (until four days ago) deepening connection. She cared for him and enjoyed his company here; he was sure of that. Here though. In this isolated situation, where choices of companion were severely limited. How that could ever really translate to a life back on Earth if they did actually achieve their goal and get home, he just couldn't see right now.

At the beginning of this journey, he'd belonged fairly and squarely in the camp of those crewmembers, mostly Maquis, who were focused on their life on the ship, in the present, and who were mostly just happy to be alive and free. The goal of getting back to the Alpha Quadrant had little resonance for them. Many of them, himself included, had little to go back to.

As his transition from Rebel Captain back to Starfleet Commander gathered momentum, he could see that it would also be possible now for him to relate to the section of the crew who were firmly focused on getting back to the Alpha Quadrant. Who believed there was a life for them waiting there.

He straddled both camps really. Return could bring the possibility of a new life, of new choices; it could also still bring trial and imprisonment and with that, a new loss of all he was building here.

The more time passed before they made it back, perhaps the chances of this first possible future increased?

So – now he wanted to get back – but just not too soon? Was that what he was saying? Not sure that was something he'd be sharing with the Captain.

That night on the holodeck, at one point, he'd felt sure as they'd talked and laughed that she'd been about to say she'd take him to the real Lake George, if they ever made it back. She had said she thought he'd love it there, then she'd paused as if the next thought had stalled somewhere in formation.

Perhaps she was ahead of him in her thinking? That'd be nothing new. Perhaps that night, as she'd tried to imagine them together on the real Lake George, her thoughts had hit the same wall that his thoughts had only just come up against now?

It had all seemed possible in the moonlight on that beautiful lake.

It all seemed ridiculous in the unforgiving light of the mess hall.

Who was he kidding?

The stew was no longer bubbling. He pushed the plate away, no longer hungry.