Archive of Our Own ^beta

I smile to myself as I carefully spread manure around the seedlings in my garden. The action reminds me of another time, another place far, far away. Not for the first time, I wonder whether the Talaxian tomatoes we left behind on New Earth thrived in their new surroundings. With Starfleet's recent breakthroughs in new propulsion technologies, it seems no longer out of the question to return to that distant world someday, just for reminiscences' sake. I would have to hitch a ride though as my retired status no longer grants me the same privileges I had as an active admiral, but Chakotay might still be able to arrange something. Maybe I'll put the question to him sometime.

My smile grows as my thoughts turn to Chakotay. He'll be coming to dinner tonight, and I've been looking forward to this day all week. As has he, if our recent subspace conversations are any indication. It'll be the first time since he assumed command of Voyager-A that we'll meet face to face, and I'm full of nervous anticipation. Will we finally have the conversation, the one we've been dancing around for more years than I care to count at this point? We've come so close many times, but always something stood in our way – crew members to be saved, another disaster to be contained, our whole futures uncertain. But now that I'm retired, Starfleet no longer commands my thoughts and actions, and even though Chakotay is still a captain in the fleet, our situations are much different. Furthermore, he returned from his trip through the various time frames ten years older than when the Protostar was first lost, so maybe he'll start thinking about retirement as well. That's only one of the many questions I mean to ask him tonight.

A familiar sound unexpectedly reaches my ears, and I look up to see a Starfleet shuttle descend towards my property, clearly set to land right in my backyard. It touches down as I straighten and brush the soil off my gloves, and when the hatch opens I'm surprised to see my former first officer in full uniform emerge from the small craft.

A smile automatically pulls at the corners of my mouth as I approach to greet him. "Wasn't expecting to see you," I quip, but it's clear that the joke falls flat when he regards me gravely.

"Starfleet Command's been trying to reach you."

My chest constricts painfully, but I still try to keep the conversation light. "I told them I don't want a promotion. I'm retired." He's silent, his face so grim that my hands start trembling. This is not a social call. He's not early for our dinner, nor does he look like our dinner will happen at all. Something terrible must have happened. The smile slips from my face. "Why, what is it?"

"Mars was attacked."

"By who?"

"Our own synths went rogue against us. We don't know why."

I turn away, not wanting him to see the anguish that spreads through me at his words as I slowly begin to grasp the magnitude of what he's saying. There must be thousands dead on Mars, and with this attack, I know that life as we know it will not be the same for many years, maybe decades to come. But despite the sympathy I feel for those directly affected, I can't help the silent cry of frustration that resounds in my mind. Why? Why now?

"All reserve officers are being called back. The Federation needs you, Kathryn."

Of course. With my experience, and the rank I held, I'm expected to be at the very forefront of whatever defense or counterattack the Federation will devise. And of course I will comply. But an insistent little voice inside of me screams against the timing, against the injustice. Will I never be allowed to find even the smallest slice of personal happiness among this unending string of disasters that seems to be my life?

I look back at Chakotay and he steps closer, one of his hands touching my shoulder as he gently turns me around. His face is full of compassion, mirroring the despair I feel but could never articulate. "I'm sorry," he whispers, and I know that he's not just talking about Mars or the fact that the universe will not allow me to enjoy my retirement in peace. The simple words tell me that he's mourning us just like I am. Another chance lost, like so many before. Another door closing, because once again we weren't brave enough to seize our opportunity in the spur of a moment, and thought we had the time to actually make plans. Plans that have just been thwarted, possibly forever.

I look up into his beloved face and hope that he can see in my eyes what I can't say out loud. "So am I," I croak, and then I fall forward into his embrace and he holds me tightly, his rapid breaths loud in my ear. A few tears force their way past my tightly closed eyelids and seep into the fabric of his uniform, the tiniest part of my being physically joining him in a way the rest of me will never be allowed to.

Eventually I straighten and his hold loosens. "I'll go replicate a uniform," I say, my voice already returning to the no-nonsense inflection that has been second nature to me for decades.

"Don't forget to use the new pattern," Chakotay reminds me, sounding equally detached.

His arms fall away from my body and I feel like a part of me has died. Again. And this time, I doubt that I'll find the strength to revive it anymore.

"Do you want to come inside while you wait?" I offer, trying to find the merest sliver of normalcy in this topsy-turvy new reality.

He hesitates, and for a fleeting moment I see rebellion in his eyes, a desire to rise up against this obstacle that the universe has once more put unfairly in our way. But it is gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by tired resignation as he shakes his head and turns away, looking out over my garden. "I'll wait here."

I take a few steps toward the house but then falter and turn, staring at Chakotay's back. I should go inside and get ready to depart, to resume my Starfleet life. But something keeps me rooted to the spot, a vague feeling of wrongness, of time shifting before my very eyes. I'm no Traveler, but maybe our recent temporal adventures have made me more susceptible to those pivotal moments when one decision can spark a new, alternate reality? Stranger things have happened in the Delta Quadrant. And I feel that something is different. I'm different from just a moment ago.

The spark of rebellion I witnessed in Chakotay's eyes – it ignited something within me. A tiny flame, too small to warm yet, but glowing brighter with each passing second. And I realize that against all odds, we have one more chance. The very last one.

I pull in a shuddering breath and reach out.

My hand on Chakotay's shoulder prompts him to pivot back to me, confusion on his brow.

"When do they expect you back?" I ask before he can speak.

"As soon as I found you." His frown deepens. "Kathryn, what –"

"What if I hadn't been home?" I interrupt, feeling the flame grow stronger, starting to infuse me with warmth.

"I suppose I… would have waited here, hoping you'd be back quickly. I know you don't carry a communicator anymore."

Heat is rising within me, the flame burning ever brighter. "How long would you have waited?"

His confusion is plain now, impatience creeping into his voice. "Two hours, maybe three if –"

My body slams into his, causing him to stagger backwards, my arms around his neck pulling his head down so I can crush my lips against his, engulfing him with my heat.

Quicker than expected, he pushes me back, anger flaring in his eyes. "What's gotten into you?!"

"I love you," I say, and watch his face go slack with surprise. "I meant to tell you many times, but always after a meaningful conversation, after honestly evaluating our feelings and comparing our expectations for the future. I meant for us to come together slowly, to savor getting to know each other on a new level, and then to walk into the proverbial sunset together."

The expression on his face is priceless. Shock, mostly, tinged with a heavy dose of disbelief. It spurs me on.

"But that's never going to happen," I continue. "I know that now. We've let too many chances slip away, and it may seem like our time has finally run out. But I refuse to accept that."

A first small smile appears on his lips, still tentative but with definite potential. "It's never been in your nature to give up. Even when the odds were stacked against Voyager, you always insisted that there had to be a way to pull through."

"I should have applied that same conviction to us, instead of continuing to wait for the perfect moment." I reach for his face and draw my fingers over his tattoo, a move often imagined but never acted out before. "We're out of time. Let's make the most of it."

He seems to be warming to the idea, though not as enthusiastically as I'd hoped. Was the spark I thought I'd witnessed before nothing more than the dying glow as his feelings turned to ashes?

He clears his throat. "Do I get a say in the matter?"

His words stop me cold. I certainly don't want to force myself on him without his consent, but I always imagined that he'd be even more eager than me to tear down the barriers that held us apart. I force my hands to keep still, one suspended at the side of his face while the other rests on his arm. "Of course you do. This is not a command decision." There's a slight catch in my voice though, and I wonder if he notices, and what he will make of it.

Chakotay looks at me for a long moment, and I'm at a loss to interpret his expression. I feel suspended at the edge of a precipice, where the slightest movement will mean the difference between regaining solid ground or plunging into the abyss. A chill passes through me, threatening to cancel out the warmth I felt before.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he slowly turns his head and presses a light kiss into the palm of my hand. "What do you suggest?"

The flame within me explodes into a blazing furnace.

I press closer again and Chakotay's arms wrap around me, his hands boldly starting to move over my body in a way that is sure to overwhelm my self-control in no time.

"Two hours," I state firmly. "In two hours, I will board that shuttle with you and return to duty, and I'll fulfill any role that Starfleet assigns me."

"And what happens in those two hours?" His voice is a low, suggestive rumble now, his eyes boring into mine with an intensity that reminds me of the passionate Maquis warrior of so long ago.

"We could –"

"Agreed," he cuts me off, and if we were younger, I believe he would sweep me up into his arms now and carry me all the way into my bedroom.

As it is, he settles for claiming my lips in a greedy kiss, one that I happily return. And when I finally break free and pull him toward the house, there's no hesitation in our steps, no uncertainty in our smiles. This is our time, our place, and nothing will stop us now.

-==/\==-

Two hours later, we board the shuttle hand in hand, only letting go of each other once we settle into our seats and Chakotay readies the small craft for departure.

As we lift off, he glances over at me. "I really hate to ask this but… What about tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after that?"

I know what he's asking. Now that I'm back in Starfleet, what about the principles I lived by for so long?

I shake my head. "I retired. They want me back. They'll get me, but on my own terms this time."

"And those terms are?"

"That I won't let anything come between us again if I can help it." My words are a promise both to him and to myself – a promise I intend to keep.

His smile envelops me like a warm blanket and I reach out to take his hand, sliding my fingers between his. By now, I know how that hand feels caressing the bare skin of my stomach, and how perfectly our bodies fit together. It has taken us far longer to reach this point than either of us would have preferred, but we should only look forward now.

"I love you," I tell him again, and my stomach flips at the way his eyes light up.

"I love you, too, Kathryn," he replies, the breathy way he utters my name raising goosebumps on my skin.

The shuttle executes a wide turn, and I catch a last glimpse of my house, my garden. Once again, I think of New Earth. Another time, another place – but the potential that first emerged there has finally come to fruition.

-==/ The End. \==-

"Janeway is done following rules. She makes her own rules now." (Kate Mulgrew at Destination Star Trek Germany 2022)