A BEGINNING, A MIDDLE, AND A PROPER END

The Journey (con'd)

[one] [two] [three] [four] [six]

"Repression"

JANEWAY: What the hell are you doing?

CHAKOTAY: I think it's obvious. I'm taking control of your ship.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Captain's Log, Stardate 54093.6:

. . . I do sense some embarrassment among the crewmen involved, but nothing a little good-natured ribbing from their shipmates won't cure. We're very fortunate, of course, that embarrassment is all we've suffered; had there been any deaths or serious injuries this incident could have completely destroyed the close relationships we've forged over the past six years. No one is more relieved than Tuvok and Chakotay. Chakotay even seems to have escaped his usual attack of the guilts, perhaps because in this case Tuvok, with whom he has had the occasional conflict, must bear primary responsibility--though I stress that neither officer is at all to blame for having become the pawn of an unscrupulous expert in mind-control.

So--the Maquis mutiny we once feared has finally occurred, but it was initiated, ironically, in the Alpha Quadrant. I can't pretend that it wasn't deeply unnerving to find myself facing the business end of a phaser held by my first officer, who is also my friend, but at the same time I knew he wasn't acting of his own free will. Starfleet Command requested a report about the Maquis not long ago. Well, this incident should provide some thought-provoking evidence. The Maquis were in complete control of Voyager, but the moment Commander Chakotay was again his own master he braved his armed comrades to return the ship to her rightful captain, and those comrades also stood down immediately when they were freed from Teero's conditioning. Rebels they might once have been, but no longer. As I say now and then to Chakotay, we've had our disagreements, and some of the former Maquis will never earn high marks for adherence to Starfleet protocols, but I couldn't ask for a more dedicated crew. In the next data stream I'll be urging Starfleet yet again to resolve the Maquis issue as soon as possible. They owe it to thirty-four officers as loyal as any who have ever served.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Janeway sat down at Chakotay's table, rubbed her eyes, and poured herself a cup of coffee. "How bad this time?"

His face wore that slightly frozen look it always did when he was struggling to control strong emotion. "This time Tuvok had switched the phasers on me so that when he fired you took it full in the face. Yours?"

"This time you didn't bother with Tuvok. You pulled the trigger yourself."

His eyes closed. "God. Kathryn--"

"If you tell me again that you're sorry I'll dump this coffee in your lap."

On any given night as many as a dozen of the affected Maquis could be found in the mess hall or the holodeck, usually with a few Starfleet veterans keeping them company and trying to cheer them up over a card game or a workout or a holonovel. It had started that first night, after Paris's ridiculous movie. Chakotay had waked in a sweat, for a moment uncertain why and assuming he must have dreamed, idiotically, about giant killer lobster people--and then he'd remembered the phaser firing, the beam cleaving her skull. When he'd sought a cup of soothing tea in the mess hall, Tuvok was already there, and within the hour Janeway and Torres and a few others had wandered in. Most of the succeeding nights of the past week had played out the same way.

"All right, I won't." And he didn't, but she could see that it took effort not to. At length his frozen look was replaced by a weary, wry grimace. "This is getting to be a habit, hanging out with you in the mess hall after being brainwashed."

"It wasn't your fault."

She'd said that as many times as he'd said I'm sorry. All right, so she'd split a hair or two in her log so as not to give Starfleet any ammunition against the Maquis--but what Chakotay was feeling wasn't guilt, not exactly; she knew the crushing weight of guilt and so did he. But a sense of responsibility for a disaster only narrowly averted--he wouldn't be the man she knew if he didn't feel at least that.

"I know it wasn't," he said, "--but I remember handing Tuvok that phaser. I remember--toying with you. I remember the look on your face."

"I remember the look on yours. Even when we first met, when we were enemies, you never looked at me that way." Coldly, with contempt--

"That's because I never thought of you as an enemy, but as an adversary, an opponent, under a particular set of circumstances that no longer applied. There's a difference." He gave a bitter little exhale. "And I joked about being the bad guy in a training scenario."

"The rest of us joked about it, too. Look, Chakotay, I'm not going to tell you it wasn't unsettling to have it happen for real, but it's over now except for the dreams, and those won't last much longer."

"I wonder if we're making it worse by talking about them."

"That isn't what the counseling books say--and I've consulted a few in recent days. Actually I think mine are getting better. You don't scare me as much--almost as if I know it's a dream."

"I still scare me. I might have to take Tuvok up on his offer after all." Even Tuvok had admitted requiring longer meditation sessions than usual after this experience, and had offered to assist anyone suffering similar feelings of disquiet.

"I just don't understand it," she said in mock confusion. "You keep passing up opportunities to be captain." She patted his hand. "What do you say we check out Tom's midnight double feature? According to his announcement there will be killer tomatoes and killer rabbits on the bill."

He swallowed the last of his coffee. "We wouldn't want to miss that."

"Tell you what," she added, as they deposited their mugs in the recycler and started for the door. "If the Federation authorities don't beat us to it, let's find Teero when we get back and play the same little game with him."

For the barest instant, that same cold gleam shone in his eyes--and then he winked. "It's a deal. I'll bring the phaser."

********************

"Shattered"

JANEWAY PAST: I can't let this happen--not again. . . . Now that I know what's going to happen I could avoid getting trapped in the Delta Quadrant in the first place. . . .

CHAKOTAY: What about the Temporal Prime Directive?

JANEWAY PAST: To hell with it!

CHAKOTAY: With all due respect, it's a little presumptuous to think you have the right to change everyone's future. . . .

JANEWAY PAST: Are you going to be lecturing me like this for the next seven years?

CHAKOTAY: Don't worry. You'll always get the last word.

...

JANEWAY PAST: Mind if I ask you one last question?

CHAKOTAY: Will I have to break the Temporal Prime Directive to answer it?

JANEWAY PAST: Maybe--just a little. For two people who started off as enemies, it seems we get to know each other pretty well. So I've been wondering--just how close do we get?

CHAKOTAY: Let's just say there are some barriers we never cross.

...

JANEWAY: Do you mind telling me why B'Elanna burned out the deflector dish?

CHAKOTAY: Actually--I ordered her to do it. . . . Trust me--it was better than the alternative.

JANEWAY: Which was what, exactly?

CHAKOTAY: I can't tell you. . . . The Temporal Prime Directive. . . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Barriers.

Sometimes he thought of what separated them as a wall of brick or stone, solid and opaque and inflexible, with no room for error, no possibility of bumping into it without injury. Sometimes, however, it seemed made of energy, of electricity, of their unspoken agreement to be everything to each other a lover would be--except a lover. They teased and complimented and fought and made up. Friends behaved the same way, and friends of opposite genders might add flirting to the pattern of their relationship, but even friends of opposite genders didn't usually have intimate dinners together with mood music and romantic lighting, as they did. They seemed compelled to edge closer and closer to that barrier, tempted and excited by showering sparks, until one of them felt the hard, humming shock that warned too close--and backed away. She was more likely to dance close, he more likely to retreat. She dined in shirt sleeves, he in full uniform. Was the additional layer of clothing a barrier, or a shield?

Meeting her younger self, interacting with her without the wall of command protocol between them, had been thrilling. Yes, he wore a Starfleet uniform, but he was not this Janeway's first officer, and she responded to him as to an equal adversary, rather than a subordinate. In those circumstances, in fact, he had been in charge, and he could admit to taking amused pleasure in giving her orders, in knowing so much that she did not. He had taken much greater pleasure in her quickening interest in him, in feeling her so easily match her mood and her wit to his--even while Mark was still very much a presence in her life. Seeing Seska again, of course--besides spooking the hell out of him--had reminded him of all the reasons captains shouldn't get involved with their subordinates, even those from other timelines. And yet when she asked him just how close do we get, part of him nonetheless wanted very much to kiss her, while the rest of him backed away behind the wall--this time a protective wall, for he couldn't kiss this Kathryn without confusing the issue with his Kathryn, who wasn't quite the same, and wasn't really his. There had been regret in his face and voice when he spoke of barriers never crossed, and disappointment in hers when she offered her hand, and he knew that she had been as aware of both as he was.

He could tell his Kathryn what had happened if he so desired. The Temporal Prime Directive was in truth irrelevant, for what had been their future would not be their future now, and the past had been restored--telepathic pitcher plants, giant germs, and all--he having out of the necessity of preventing chaos changed his own timeline within an hour of talking her out of changing hers. But if he told her, she would press for details about what she'd been like and how they'd gotten along, and because she could read him better than anyone else ever had, she would sense that renewed attraction, the joy it had been, even in those circumstances, to hold her tightly against his body, to banter with her, to trade ideas and suggestions and discuss strategy with her, to protect her, and yes, even to lecture her.

And in the telling of it he would have to face again the realization that if they had not yet found a way to cross that barrier, whatever its nature--especially now when they'd edged closer to it than they had in years--it was very likely that they never would.

********************

"Workforce"

JAFFEN: . . . Are you comfortable? . . . I mean here with me.

KATHRYN: I can't remember being more comfortable in my life.

...

KATHRYN: We're the same race.

CHAKOTAY: We're more than that. We're friends.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At first everything was a blur of gray and white, but then his eyes began to focus, and the gray and white blurs became ceiling and walls and bio-beds. Sickbay. He was in Sickbay, on Voyager, safe. Home. Out of the corner of his eye he could see someone perched on a stool a meter away, frowning in concentration over a padd. He turned his head.

"Kathryn," he said, her name a sigh of relief. Home.

She looked up, startled by both the sound and his tone, and then smiled. "Hi--welcome back. How do you feel?"

He gave a shuddering sigh. "Glad to be back. The last I remember, they were about to do to me what they did to you." He didn't feel normal and he had no more energy than a burned-out warp coil, but he did know who he was, and Kathryn was safe, and for the moment that was enough.

Her smile became a little uncertain, and he began to feel expectant without quite knowing why. Presently he realized that he was waiting for her to touch him, to bend over him or lean against the bed and lay her palm against his cheek, or clasp his hand and say something warm and teasing. She had pulled her stool a little nearer but she did not reach out to him, and her tone was merely friendly and concerned, no different from when she'd spoken to him in the tavern on Quarra or in her apartment while she treated his wound.

"You don't remember yet, do you?"

She shook her head apologetically. "I've had my first treatment, and I've started reading these--my--log entries, but--no, I don't remember." The familiar lopsided smile tugged at her mouth. "I'm getting the sense, though, that we've done this before--you and me in--" she gestured generally at the room "--here."

He made a sound of wry affirmation. "Once or twice."

She leaned forward, earnestly curious. "Why doesn't that frighten me?"

"Maybe deep down you know it's all part of the job."

"Some job. I must be crazy for loving it. And I do love it--or rather, Kathryn Janeway does. I can tell." She indicated the padd.

"It's your life."

It seemed to her that he said it with a significance she didn't yet understand. "You figure very prominently in these accounts. Things didn't start off well between us, apparently."

He smiled. "No. But they improved." Would she remember him before or after she read about New Earth?

"Well--awake and coherent at the same time." The Doctor strode into Chakotay's field of vision. "Do I get a lollipop?" He was still in his Emergency Command Hologram persona, continuing his safe possession of Voyager's command codes until her captain restored her own authorization.

Chakotay sat up with a groan, fighting off a wave of dizziness. "It's the patient who gets the lollipop."

"Oh. Well, never mind. They're bad for your teeth anyway. Of course I don't have teeth, technically speaking--"

"Doctor--what's going on? How long have I been out? Were all the crew beamed up?"

"You've been unconscious slightly more than seven hours since you were rescued. I've informed Lieutenant Torres that you're awake, and she's on her way here to brief you. And yes, the crew were all retrieved, and I've begun their treatments. I'm afraid I don't know the details, since no one has had time to file a report into the ship's database."

"B'Elanna can fill me in. How's everyone holding up? Have anyone else's memories come back?"

"Not yet. They were understandably dubious at first, and frightened, but they were ultimately convinced by ship's records and the testimony of not only Lieutenant Torres but also those who became involved in the case on the surface--Captain Janeway, Seven of Nine, Lieutenant Paris, Investigator Yerid, a young physician called Ravic, and a Mr. Jaffen." Chakotay glanced at Kathryn and saw that she was clutching the padd with both hands. "At present they're all busily reviewing their own life histories, with Mr. Neelix's assistance. Some should be back on duty in another twelve to sixteen hours. Precise recovery times will of course vary with the individual, and some required more persuasion than others, so that the start of their treatments was delayed by several hours."

"What about me? Can I get out of here?"

"I've completed the repair of your arm wound that Captain Janeway began, administered a neural regenerator to counteract the effects of the phaser stun, and reversed the initial stage of the engrammatic resequencing." He sounded both annoyed by the amount of work Chakotay had caused him and smugly satisfied by his ability to cope with it. "You also suffered assorted contusions and muscle strains, and you lost a significant though not dangerous amount of blood, but there's nothing wrong with you now that about twelve hours' sleep won't cure."

"I have a functioning crew of five--how am I supposed to sleep? You'll have to give me something to keep me going. Besides, I just woke up."

"Unconsciousness is not equivalent to sleep," the Doctor retorted with dry disapproval. "However--" He held up a hypospray in the manner of a conductor wielding a baton. "--I anticipated your admirable if ill-advised professional zeal, and prepared a stimulant. You may have this dose and one more in twelve hours, but after that you will sleep even if it means snoring in the captain's chair." He pressed the hypo against Chakotay's neck. "I'll refrain from pointing out the obvious advantage of a commanding officer who doesn't require slumber."

"I appreciate your self-restraint," Chakotay replied rather sarcastically, and Kathryn wondered if this sort of bickering was standard operating procedure in the Doctor's domain.

B'Elanna arrived then, with a warm hello for Chakotay and the news that Quarran officials were waiting to talk to him. "They're so nervous I almost feel sorry for them. I think it's safe to say you'll have the upper hand in any negotiations for some kind of settlement."

"Sounds good to me. I'll contact them as soon as I get cleaned up. Let me know what supplies are on your wish list, and tell Neelix to do the same."

"Right."

Torres began to brief him on the status of the ship and crew, and since they made no effort to conceal information Kathryn felt no compunction about listening in. Of the individuals he asked about, she knew their names and faces, but as co-workers at the power distribution plant rather than comrades in a remarkable odyssey. Of their technical jargon about phaser couplings and EPS relays and transporter grids she understood very little, and that in relation to the operations of a power plant rather than a starship. So much expertise and experience, all lurking inside her mind somewhere-- What if it didn't all return?

They were aware of her attention, B'Elanna a little self-conscious, Chakotay not at all, and she suspected he was the sort of person who rarely felt less than sure of himself. Like Jaffen, she thought, and then tried not to think about Jaffen any more, tried to concentrate on the conversation, because she couldn't bear to think about Jaffen just now. She understood that Chakotay was stepping into her role, that ordinarily she would be concerned for the safety of the ship and crew, she would establish priorities for the allocation of still-limited human resources, she would express satisfaction that a resolution to a crisis was at hand. He was efficient, confident, a little impatient--perhaps wanting to make the most of chemically induced energy before he reached the point of collapse. He looked so tired, lines of fatigue etched deeply into his face, dark circles under his eyes. We're friends, he'd said, but to her he was the man who had turned her life upside down--and yet she didn't resent him for it, indeed had felt an unexpected reluctance to leave him while he was unconscious and defenseless. She felt oddly protective of him, of all of them. Could it be that feelings were awakening before actual memory?

Chakotay and B'Elanna, on the other hand, expended little energy in mutual solicitude, beyond her apology for walloping him and his apology for abducting her, and Kathryn had the strong impression that they were old friends who didn't spend a lot of time talking about what they meant to each other. Chakotay struck her as reserved and practical, B'Elanna as embarrassed by sentiment, but even so, before she left B'Elanna asked her how she was doing, and when Chakotay turned to her his eyes and voice were calm and soothing.

"Care to take a walk? It sounds as if you haven't seen much of the ship yet. Or would you rather continue your research?"

"Well, I should probably give myself time to absorb what I've read so far. I'd like a walk." She looked toward the Doctor. "If that's all right--"

He stared at her for at least five seconds, and then shook himself into speech. "I'm sorry, Captain, I'm not accustomed to such deference from you. Perhaps when you've recovered you'll remember this moment, and reflect. --Yes, you may go about as you wish. Just come back in four hours for your next treatment."

"I'll be here."

He was still gaping at her when Chakotay ushered her out the door.

"I take it someone's already given you some basic information about yourself and our situation," he said.

"Yes--Mr. Neelix. He brought me to see the Doctor. They've both been very helpful, even though they're terribly busy." Such loyalty and devotion she seemed to have earned from them, and from the man walking beside her now-- "I have the distinct feeling that Mr. Neelix is a treasure."

"That he is. You often say you don't know what we'd do without him."

He showed her Engineering, Astrometrics, one of the holodecks, and some of the science labs, trying not to overwhelm her with information, or insist too much on that responsibility she didn't yet believe she wanted.

"And I know what all this does? I--run all this?"

"Well, you let the rest of us help you out a little now and then."

She laughed. "A lot, I'll bet."

"It'll come back to you." Watching her look around in amazement but not apprehension, he was sure of it.

On the bridge they found Kim darting from his Ops console to the helm and back again, but he paused long enough to say, "Glad to see you up and about, Commander. And it's good to see you here, Captain." Her smile was uncharacteristically shy, prompting Kim to look a question at Chakotay, to which he responded with a reassuring nod.

"That's your seat," he said, gesturing her to the captain's chair, but she took a slight step backward with a not yet shake of her head.

They toured the bridge stations, Kim sneaking glances at them all the while, and Chakotay had the impression that she was avoiding the image of Quarra on the viewscreen. When he showed her into her ready room, she went to the desk and activated the terminal, but did not sit down, stared at the coffee service on the low table and studied the antique microscope, the bronze Greek soldier, the nineteenth-century watch he'd given her three birthdays ago.

"Anything look familiar?" he asked.

"I don't know. It isn't unfamiliar, exactly-- It's as if I feel I should recognize this place--rather like déjà vu--"

"This whole experience must be pretty unsettling."

"You have no idea." At last she gazed at Quarra through the viewport, and then turned away.

"What made you realize I was telling the truth?"

"Investigator Yerid came looking for me. Since he'd found you and the dermal regenerator I'd borrowed in my apartment, he thought you might have told me something. Jaffen tried to cover for me, but I wouldn't let him--" Her expression seemed to freeze, her breath to stop--and then she continued in an even tone. "It turned out that Tuvok had convinced Annika that some of the workers might have been victims of some kind of memory tampering, and she'd been conducting her own investigation at the plant and at the hospital where we'd been processed. I couldn't ignore all the evidence any more than Yerid could. And in the meantime, Dr. Ravic had caught on and was nearly subjected to treatment at the same time you were. When he regained consciousness he joined Yerid in confirming everything the four of us were telling the crew. And once we saw our service records, our personal logs, photos of ourselves with people we thought we didn't know, recordings of concerts and plays, it was hard to think of this as some kind of plot. Their plot started to sound more plausible than yours." With only a little hesitation she sat down on the couch, and he joined her. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you in time to help you more than I did."

"Well, if I hadn't gotten caught, it might have been tougher to get Yerid onto our side. I guess I underestimated how absurd it would sound to you."

She shrugged. "You had to take a chance, and--you knew I'd want to know the truth. They couldn't take that trait away from me."

"You told me you didn't want responsibility, but something in you did."

"I guess so," she said softly, with wonder.

In her quarters, he made sure she knew how to access her logs from a terminal and how a comm badge worked, then excused himself. "I've got to see to the rest of the crew and then make myself presentable so I can talk to the Quarran officials." His clothing was still stained with blood and sweat, and he looked and smelled like a man who hadn't showered, combed his hair, or shaved in two days. She had really been very tolerant. "But call me if you need me. I mean it," he added, when she appeared diffident. "Don't think you'd be disturbing me."

Her smile was the warmest she'd given him so far. "Okay," she said. "Thanks."

He gave a nod, and left her alone with her past.

Twice in as many months he had met a Kathryn Janeway who did not know him. Both times she had fallen easily into cordial association with him, but this time the lack of recognition was complete. This Kathryn did not even know herself as a captain, or him as the rebel she was hunting; this time she was stripped to Kathryn without a confirmed role to play. A few hours ago she had thought herself a power systems engineer, and now here she was trusting strangers to change her into someone for whom she had no reference. Her courage was extraordinary. With his innate paranoia about mind control, in her place, even confronted with such evidence, he would have taken a good deal more convincing.

He didn't know whether or not to hope that she would call him. Not only recognition was missing; this Kathryn had looked at him without the slightest spark of attraction. He was certain Captain Janeway would recover, but what about Kathryn--Kathryn who was in love with Jaffen and would have to say good-bye?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Chakotay left her, Kathryn explored the quarters he'd assured her were hers, poking into closets and drawers at random. The clothes and shoes fit her and the hairbrush contained strands that matched her own in color and texture, and the decorative touches that softened the utilitarian gray of carpet and furnishings--books, plants, wall hangings--seemed to conform to her taste, as had the decor in the ready room.

She didn't feel at all frightened by what was happening to her, which was in itself strange. Rather, she was excited, fascinated by the puzzle of herself. She found a photo album that must be of family members, judging by the frequent occurrence in its pages of red hair and blue eyes--and then on the back of one photo she discovered a handwritten note: Mom's 65th birthday, with a date not long before Voyager had launched. Mom. Until this moment she had believed her mother had died years before. Digging deep into drawers, because that was where people always kept their most personal belongings, she found, wrapped carefully in a soft cloth, a framed photo of a man and a dog--and knew this must be Mark, the fiancé left behind. Such a sad story--she had almost wept while reading the log entries that referred to him, though the loss described had been felt by someone else. Soon she would remember, and that loss would be hers again. Soon she would add another.

Everything inside her congealed into a huge knot of sorrow. Part of her wished she could stop remembering, stop distancing herself from the life she'd known on Quarra. Already she realized that there was no room for Jaffen in this life, Captain Janeway's life, no room for anyone. Why hadn't Jaffen turned out to have three wives and six children and his species' equivalent of a dog, and be just as eager to get home to them as she soon would be to get home to--Mark? Probably not to Mark, not after all this time. Chakotay, then--how much was there to remember about him? He was very attentive, very concerned. We're friends, he'd said--but what if they'd been more?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Kim to Chakotay."

"Damn it, Harry--I told you--"

"I'm sorry, Commander, but it's Mr. Jaffen." Kim's voice was skirting the edge of frantic. "He keeps calling for Captain Janeway and I can't get any work done, and he's using a public comm center so if I block his signal he can just move to another terminal. He's really worried, sir, and I thought it might help if you talked to him."

Chakotay calmed down in a rush of sympathy. In his concern for Voyager's crew, particularly her captain, he'd forgotten that a few people on Quarra had an emotional stake in this problem, too. Thank God they'd been there only weeks instead of months or years; hundreds of the other victims of Kadan's labor-acquisition conspiracy would never be able to reconcile their two lives. He also reminded himself that Kim was working non-stop just as he was, pumped up on just as many stimulants, and he hadn't had the dubious benefit of seven hours of oblivion. "Good call, Harry. Sorry I snapped. Go ahead and put him through."

"Yes, sir. And thank you."

Chakotay braced himself, but any wariness or jealousy he might have felt evaporated as soon as he saw Jaffen's face on the ready-room screen--anxious, frustrated, above all without hope--and he knew then that Jaffen had understood since this all began, even as he risked his job and his life to help her, that he was going to lose her.

Jaffen looked a little surprised that his persistence had finally gotten some results, and perhaps to find himself addressing a uniformed officer instead of a suspected kidnapper. "Mr. Jaffen, I'm Commander Chakotay. Let me assure you that Capt--Kathryn Janeway is safe and well." He hadn't spoken with her himself, but he'd checked several times with the Doctor on her progress.

Jaffen made a visible effort to compose himself. "Can I talk to her?"

"Not yet. I'm sorry. Our doctor tells me that the middle stage of treatment, when memory is returning, can be a bit confusing. He's monitoring her carefully, though, and says she should be fully recovered by tomorrow."

Jaffen's face tightened. "When they--recover-- When they get their memories back--do they remember their lives here?"

Chakotay hesitated. His only example was B'Elanna, but a conclusive answer seemed kinder than a completely honest one. "So far they have."

Jaffen nodded, and took a quick steadying breath. "I'm taking up your time--I'm sorry. Thanks for talking to me. I just needed to know--" His voice trailed off.

"Thank you for all your help. I know it wasn't easy for you." Jaffen's expression was a mixture of embarrassment for having revealed his feelings to a stranger, and gratitude that the stranger understood. "Mr. Jaffen--she won't leave without saying good-bye."

Jaffen could say nothing more, could only nod his thanks and break the connection, and Chakotay sagged a little in his chair and allowed himself to hurt for them, for Kathryn and also for Jaffen, who was worthy of her, and who had made her happy.

He was more relieved than not that she hadn't contacted him. If she needed him he was available, but she could read her own logs without his help, and someone, after all, had to run the ship and meet with Quarran investigators and ambassadors and power-plant boards and medical officials. And if truth be told, some of her inevitable questions he would rather not face after seeing her and Jaffen together, after seeing her face light up simply because she'd said his name. Just how close do we get? that earlier Kathryn had asked him. This Kathryn, reading his Kathryn's logs, might well have asked him, Just how close are we now? No--better not to have the opportunity to make either of them uncomfortable with confessions and explanations that she would discover on her own.

Perhaps she already had. Was she silent because she did not remember him--or because she did?

He had no idea how forthcoming she was in her personal logs. He himself never confided his deepest feelings to a medium that anyone could access with the proper password or override authorization. If his memories had been altered, his would have been a slow recovery--and Neelix had told him of a number of crewmen who were similarly reticent and who consequently were relying heavily on the recovered memories of their friends and shipmates.

If his memories had been altered--

For the first time it occurred to him to wonder what might have happened if he and Kathryn had been reprogrammed together. And then he wished it hadn't.

"Computer, locate Captain Janeway."

"Captain Janeway is in her quarters."

He left the ready room by the side door, wondering if she would regard him differently now, wondering if he was yet part of her history again. How many layers of their friendship could they recover after this? She had wanted the truth even though she knew it would hurt, but how would she feel about him as the agent of that hurtful truth? How long would he be a reminder of what she had left behind?

When she called "Come in," her voice sounded harsher than it had that morning, less friendly, more controlled. When the doors parted he saw that she was standing before the window, one knee resting on the sofa, looking out the window toward Quarra. The lights were dim and he couldn't see her face, and so he hesitated, uncertain how to address her. Captain, Kathryn, no salutation--just start speaking? And then the reflected illumination from the planet and its satellites shifted just enough that he could discern how bewildered and alone she looked, and he said without further internal debate, "Captain?"

The lifting of her chin, the relaxing of her neck and shoulders and back as she turned, told him that he'd chosen well, that by his use of her rank he had anchored her, had given her back that part of herself on which her own grasp was still shaky.

"Commander," she said. She had called him nothing else since they'd--met.

"That uniform looks good on you."

"Thanks. I--needed to put it on."

He came another step into the room and stood with his hands clasped behind his back. "I hope you're settling in."

She realized he was treading carefully, not sure what he could assume about her awareness, her emotions, her memories. "It's all right. I'm all the way back." She said it rather bitterly, for it was not yet an unalloyed blessing. "Well--there's still a fog bank here and there, but those are gradually receding."

Matching her reserve, he restrained his sigh of relief. "I'm glad to hear it." With an apologetic shrug, he ventured an old, shared jest. "I still don't want to be captain."

Right at this moment, neither do I. The thought came unbidden to her mind, and she looked away.

It wasn't easy to be alone with him just now. She'd known who it was at her door, for no one else would simply drop by her quarters without requesting permission first. There had been so much to remember about this man, so much joy and pain, so much self-knowledge tangled up with intimate awareness of him. The early log entries had left her with questions about their relationship. The official entries on New Earth had left her with quite a few more. She hadn't found any entries in the personal log regarding that period, but she'd decided not to risk asking the one person who could fill in the gaps, seeing nothing ahead but heartache no matter the answer.

And then, a few hours after her second treatment, when she was in the middle of a dry report on a tedious but necessary trading negotiation, she remembered everything in a flood, what she'd already read and what she hadn't, a memory dump not unlike the sudden recollection of a dream. She'd remembered the Maquis, and the Caretaker, and the Vidiians. The Kazon, and Seska. Tuvix, Scorpion, Omega. Kes, Q, Naomi, Icheb, Seven of Nine. Equinox. Unimatrix Zero. Wormholes and communications arrays and datastreams--soaring hope, and shattering disappointment. Mark, and his letter. Kashyk, and Michael.

Chakotay, and joy, and pain.

She'd remembered with poignant clarity the entry about New Earth that she had deleted, in which she'd written of something wonderful left behind. Three times now her job had separated her from a man she loved--or, in Chakotay's case, a man she had very nearly loved. It's your life, he'd said. And those remembered feelings had confused her, because now remembered love, or near-love, coexisted with present love, and present grief. She no longer thought of Chakotay with a sense of if only or might have been, but with only the memory of it. If only and might have been belonged to someone else now. We're friends, he'd said, and he'd been more right than he knew.

But friends should meet friends halfway. She turned back to him and said, "I feel guilty, somehow, for not remembering you."

He knew his previous effort had fallen flat, and he sensed, with sadness, that it was an effort for her to talk to him now, but surely she couldn't expect him to let such a tempting opening pass. "Forget it," he said.

Something inside her awakened to the wicked little sparkle in his eyes, to his infectious smile, broadening now as he read her response. She gave him a pained look and the smile stretched further into a shameless grin, into open delight at being able to tease her again. In joking with her he gave her a way to push aside confusion and sorrow, and she resigned herself to being cheered up.

"But I think in a way I did remember you--enough so that my first inclination was to help you, and to trust you not to hurt me." She sat down and motioned him to a seat, but opposite rather than beside her. As he lowered himself into the chair he winced and grunted softly. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"Lingering aches and pains from a few scuffles--Doc won't give me an analgesic on top of so many stimulants. B'Elanna nearly broke my jaw--Neelix and I aren't very accomplished kidnappers, I'm afraid."

"If things had worked out differently you might have had a lot more practice."

He agreed with a look, for of course he couldn't have left them. Aside from his commitment to them as their commanding officer and friend, he couldn't fly the ship safely with so few people even when one was a hologram. They would have had to hide and contact Starfleet, get their specialists working on the problem, mount commando raids to obtain information and bio-readings to transmit back--all the while running the risk of making a false step and alerting the very efficient Quarran police. And if they had ever come under Dr. Kadan's influence, they would have fallen into the rhythm of the place just as the others had, would have put down roots, none the less real because they'd been programmed to do it. His mind had flashed on that fear the moment Kathryn had looked at him in the power plant without a trace of recognition, the fear that he couldn't find a way to reverse the damage, that he would have to watch his friends become more and more content in their new lives--

Her thoughts must have mirrored his own, because she changed the subject. "I haven't heard from you today. Have you just been doing the work of twenty people or--have you been keeping your distance?" She knew the former was true because he was practically stumbling with fatigue and sleeplessness and too many transportations in too short a time, but--

"Both," he admitted after careful thought. "I thought it would be best if you got to know yourself again in private." And me.

She held his steady gaze for a long time. And then she leaned back into the cushions. "So tell me what's going on. How are the rest of the crew?"

He'd been right to let her recover her memories without imposing his own biases, right to hold up the wall alone for a while. "Well, hardly anybody's functional yet, but that should change within the next few hours. Seven and Icheb recovered quickest, but the Doctor's ordered Seven to regenerate for another twelve hours--she wasn't happy about that, but she's gone much too long without it. Naomi is handling all this exceptionally well--she and Samantha weren't separated, so they have each other as they work through it. Neelix is helping everyone as much as he can in addition to supervising the loading of the supplies a grateful and apologetic government has bestowed upon us. I've relieved him of his mess hall duties for now and tripled everybody's replicator rations, since the Quarrans have topped off our power reserves as well. B'Elanna is fine but she's trying to help Tom as much as she can while running Engineering all by herself. Repairs are almost complete on the shields and other ship's systems, and we got all the escape pods back after the Quarran authorities raided the asteroid the hijacker used as a base--though some of them are missing a few parts." He paused, evaluating her reaction; he could see that he didn't have her full attention, but she was clearly following all he said. He added carefully, "The Equinox crewmen aren't doing too well--they're recovering some pretty unpleasant memories. I think a couple of them are going to wish we'd left them alone."

"I can understand that," she said softly. "Some truths are harder to face than others." She rested her arm on the back of the couch and propped her cheek against her hand. "Good work, Commander. You obviously have everything under control."

"So far so good. You're going to have to wrestle the Doctor to get your command codes back, though." Her smile was half-hearted at best, not quite reaching her eyes, and he knew that part of her didn't yet want them back, part of her had yet to let go of Kathryn who shunned responsibility and become again the captain who thrived on it--and sacrificed for it. "There's something else. Jaffen called."

She blinked hard, and her mouth quivered slightly. "I'll have to see him."

"I told him you would."

"And when I do, how do I tell him there's no place for him in my life?"

He said very quietly, "I think he already knows."

He couldn't begin to comprehend what she was feeling. He had never had to choose to leave a life, and a love, behind. Even giving up the life he had known with her on New Earth had not been as hard a blow as this, because he had regained a measure of that life and even a measure of that love. Seeing the glimmer of tears in her eyes, he couldn't help fearing that this time he would not regain as much.

"Well," she said, refusing to let the tears fall, "I've had a three-week vacation, so why don't you turn in and let me do some work for a while. Now that I don't have to read any more of my log entries I can read something really stimulating, like a fuel consumption report or a supply manifest."

"I'm not too proud to take you up on that." He was a little slow getting himself out of the chair. "But call me if you need me." This time he knew she wouldn't.

When the door closed behind him she directed a last wistful look at the planet below, then gathered up a few padds and headed for the bridge, in the hope that it would feel her proper place.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

JAFFEN: I thought you might like these back-- [He puts her spent plasma relays on the table.] --to remind you of our time together.

JANEWAY: I won't need souvenirs to remember you. [They clutch each other in a fierce, tearful embrace.]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After six hours of deep sleep Chakotay could take real pleasure in seeing his shipmates getting back to work, even though some were still a bit disoriented, having to peer at him a second or two before they really knew who he was, and even though he had to give directions to three people between Engineering and Astrometrics. He knew the Doctor wouldn't have cleared them for duty unless they were fit in the areas of the brain where it counted, and he was glad to know that Kim, Torres, and Neelix had finally gotten well-deserved naps. He was scheduled for one last meeting with Yerid and the new Director of Investigations in an hour, and then they could get the hell away from Planet Happy, as Paris had christened it with an ironic grimace.

Rounding a corner near Janeway's quarters--he wanted to check with her before his meeting--he bumped into someone who wasn't paying attention to where he was going. It was Jaffen.

He had evidently beamed up to see Kathryn after he got off shift for the day. He stared at Chakotay for the space of several breaths, while his security escort took a few discreet steps away. When he spoke, his voice was rough.

"You're her friend, she said."

It hadn't hurt when he'd told her that himself. It hurt a little now, hearing it from someone who had been able to be more. "That's right."

"Take care of her. Please."

Chakotay couldn't manage much of a smile, but he hoped it was reassuring. "I do my best."

Jaffen nodded his thanks, and then brushed by, on his way home alone. When Chakotay came to Kathryn's door he did not stop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She wrapped the plasma relays--Jaffen was right, they were ridiculous items to collect--in a soft cloth and placed them next to the framed photograph of Mark and Molly. Then she closed the drawer gently, and started for the bridge.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

CHAKOTAY: Ready to go?

JANEWAY: It may not have been real, Chakotay, but it felt like home. If you hadn't come after me, I never would have known that I had another life.

CHAKOTAY: Are you sorry I showed up?

JANEWAY: Not for a second.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Not for a second, she said, and he knew she meant it, but in the next second he saw the empty ache drain the life from her face. She would need time to let go of this particular memory, as much time, perhaps, as she had needed to let go of Mark. Picturing the anguish on Jaffen's face he knew his own good fortune. He might not have Kathryn in the same way, might not even wish for her in that way now, at least not very often, but still he had her in his life, every day, no good-byes-- And yet--he remembered how her eyes had shone, how her face had glowed.

It was hard, of course it was hard, to see her in love with someone else. Michael Sullivan was a hologram and she had never forgotten it; she had never been fully comfortable with that relationship and it was soon over. Kashyk had been mere attraction, mere desire. But this had gone beyond attraction to real commitment; she had looked at Jaffen in the way he had once dreamed she would look at him, in the way she once almost had. Part of him, sometimes, still dreamed.

His and Kathryn's chance was long, long past. He had accepted that years before and agreed with the painful wisdom of it, and the only reason even part of him returned now and then to the fantasy was that no one else had come along. Who would it be? Any woman with whom he hoped to build a lasting relationship would have to understand his bond with Kathryn and his commitment to Voyager and her crew; it was unlikely that he would ever find someone whose understanding stretched that far. And a less-permanent encounter would simply bring him the kind of grief Kathryn was feeling now for Jaffen. Hardly something to wish for--and yet he did, because he wanted a chance to feel so intensely, even if the inevitable end was loss. He had known that intensity of feeling for Kellin, apparently, but he remembered neither the woman nor the emotion, and what he had felt for Riley Frazier had been irreparably tarnished. And so he did not carry with him Kathryn's same grief as a result of either liaison, but neither did he carry her same memory of happiness.

Probably he never would. Kathryn wouldn't now but for this extraordinary circumstance, and probably never would again. All the romance either of them could hope for was transitory and therefore unsatisfying; he had accepted that years before as well, and found lasting and genuine satisfaction in other areas of life, as had she. And acceptance had rarely felt lonely, until he had witnessed her profound enjoyment of something more.

********************

Continue

Home