ONLY THE MOMENT

Disclaimer: Copyright for everything related to Star Trek is held by Paramount. This particular story is mine--written for fun, not for profit.

Special thanks to the creators, cast, and crew of Voyager, to the executives at Paramount--without them, after all, there wouldn't have been a Voyager--and especially to Kate Mulgrew and Robert Beltran, for creating two such memorable and compelling characters.

For Guy, as always--

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

[two]

One minute they were sweating and chuckling over Neelix's Red Alert Chili, and the next Tuvok was calling them to the bridge with the calm announcement of a possible wormhole into the Alpha Quadrant--and for the next three days Voyager did not sleep. Within an hour the possibility had become a probability, and within another, a certainty. Thirty-one hours and four probes later its currents and eddies had been mapped, its stresses measured, the sensors and shields reconfigured to compensate.

The captain's voice, taut, expressionless: "Attention all hands. Secure your stations. We are beginning our passage through the wormhole."

A flurry of terse orders throughout the ship, and then silence, all eyes on the viewports and screens as the crackling energy fields slowly dispersed and revealed familiar stars.

The captain's voice again, shaking: "Attention all hands. Voyager is home."

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

Chakotay tried to rub some life into his eyes as he stood at the ready-room door waiting for Janeway's signal to enter. He knew she was in there, because she'd just forwarded to him a notice from Admiral Paris that the reports of Voyager's return had hit the news--as if they hadn't been monitoring all the communication frequencies since their arrival in the Alpha Quadrant--did the admiral think they'd been gone so long they'd forgotten how? The story had evidently been leaked a few hours after Voyager's entry into Earth orbit by some excited PR liaison who didn't care that the ending of that story had yet to be written, or who perhaps was tired of waiting for it and wanted to hurry things along. Chakotay didn't know whether to consider the unknown blabbermouth a friend or foe. Almost immediately his comm channel had shown a queue of dozens of messages, none of them from people he knew; he'd had to shut off the message alert because the incessant beeping was driving him nuts.

He buzzed again, and at last heard a weary "Come in."

Janeway stood before the large viewport, arms folded tightly across her chest, gazing out at an image she had sometimes--many times--thought never to see again: Earth, emerald and sapphire and cottony white, rotating majestically, benevolently above them. Home.

God, it was beautiful. Her heart ached, it was so beautiful.

"Captain?"

She turned only when Chakotay spoke, and he saw the tears on her face, her reddened nose that told him these weren't the first she had shed. "You requested this orbit," she said, brushing at her cheeks. "I didn't understand why until I saw this view. Is it real? We've had so many almosts and near-misses--"

"It's real," he replied softly, and took a step forward. "It's real. You did it, Kathryn."

She held out her hand and he came at once to take it. "We did it." Her voice fell to a whisper. "We did it."

With one hand he clasped hers against his chest and with the other rubbed her shoulders, her back, prodding a little at the knots in muscles not yet permitted to relax. His touch was warm and companionable and welcome. He felt good there beside her, offering support, even perhaps as much as an embrace--but not minding, never minding, that she didn't ask for either. Starship captains did not seek solace in the arms of their first officers, and the sort of people who habitually needed comforting hugs did not become starship captains. She'd had to be nearly dead before she'd accepted his arm around her, on her way to probable death before she clung even briefly to his hand-- It was nice to feel his hand, his solid warmth, in a happy moment--

Except it wasn't, not for him, or for thirty-three other members of her crew. Bitterly she said, "If only you could be completely happy about coming home."

Voyager had emerged from the wormhole near the Linria system, a week from Earth at maximum warp--plenty of time, in other words, for Starfleet to make up their minds about the fate of the Maquis. Despite days of furious consultation and legal argument, however, no decision had yet been handed down.

"I'm happy you're happy," he said.

So generous. He was always so generous with her. She patted his hand in thanks and leaned against him a moment before she pulled away, painfully aware of the parallel feeling that she was not completely happy because he could not be, that his lingering peril soured her own joy. She glared with anger toward the planet she had only moments before regarded with such affection. "What the hell is taking them so long?" At last she looked full at him, and her rage melted. Her hand closed gently on his arm. "You look awful. Why don't you get some sleep?"

"I've tried--several times. I even counted tribbles. It's no use--nobody on this ship will sleep for a week. And the comm circuits will be jammed for days--you're lucky Harry's keeping one clear for official business. And by the way--" His sudden smile was tired, but genuine. "--you don't look much better."

"You don't have to tell me I look like a burned-out EPS relay." She sank onto the sofa, and at her wordless invitation he joined her, sitting near, as always, but not too near, as always. "I can't--let go yet. Harry said to me just the other day that life is the journey, and I was glad to hear him say it. We'll get there, I said to myself--we'll get there. Being in regular contact with our families and friends has made all the difference, and would have kept the remaining years of our journey from feeling quite so long. White and Boylan were talking about getting married next month. And now--all of a sudden--everything's changed. They're happy but they're a little scared, too. And so am I."

"Scared of change?"

"Scared of the change back. We're all going to be wrenched out of a life rhythm we've established over the past seven years with a lot of effort, and a lot of love. How will we react?"

"We'll meet the challenge, just as we always have."

So calm. He was always so calm--but she heard the word he didn't say. "But not together. Not this time." She meant it in a general, one-big-family sense as well, but his set expression told her that for him, too, no such phrase between the two of them, now, was not primarily about the Maquis. "There's no excuse for this--it's unconscionable! We've been in regular contact for a year--they should have made up their minds months ago. I'm about ready to storm Starfleet Headquarters. Want to help me plan a raid?"

He grinned. "Count me in."

She had just taken his hand to give it a conspiratorial shake when the comm beeped. "Kim to Janeway."

"Go ahead, Harry."

"It's Admiral Paris, Captain." Apprehension made Kim's voice sharp. "He wants to talk to both you and Commander Chakotay."

Janeway's hand gripped Chakotay's; his fingers curled tightly around hers. His smile had vanished, but when her chin lifted and her lips thinned into a line, the familiar expression almost restored it. If Starfleet didn't give her the answer she wanted, they wouldn't know what had hit them.

She led him over to the two chairs in front of her desk, and positioned the terminal so that they could both see the screen. "All right, Harry," she said, belligerence already in her tone. "Put him through."

They could hear Kim's deep breath. "Yes, ma'am."

Just before Owen Paris appeared on the screen, Janeway cast a glance at Chakotay. He sat very straight, very still, hands locked white-knuckled around the arms of the chair. He was pale, and a faint sheen of sweat had broken out on his forehead and around his mouth, but his expression, if not tranquil, was composed, accepting of whatever was to come. He did not deny or regret his past actions, and if in the eyes of Starfleet and the Federation he had not yet paid enough for them, so be it.

In her eyes, he damn well had--they all had--and she had to clamp her jaw shut to keep from interrupting the admiral's "Good morning" and other pleasantries to tell him to get to the point. And then Paris said, "It's my pleasant duty to inform you--," and Janeway began to smile, and had to interlace her fingers in her lap to keep from reaching eagerly, triumphantly, for Chakotay's hand. The admiral did get to his point rather efficiently, promising a full official report before the end of the day on the many meetings and debates and lobbying efforts involved, but even so the only portion of his remarks that either of his listeners heard clearly was the simple phrase, "The Maquis are free."

And when Chakotay let out a long, shuddering breath, Janeway did reach for his hand, witnessing admirals be damned.

"Officially you're welcome to remain in Starfleet if that's your choice," Paris was saying, "but I won't lie to you--a lot of hostility remains, and some captains and starbase commanders won't accept former Maquis. But Starfleet is a large organization and there aren't many of you--there will be plenty of places to go around." Janeway had never imagined that Owen Paris could appear avuncular, and was reminded that he had a personal interest in this decision as well. "Will you pass the decision along to--the rest of your crew?"

She beamed at him. "At once, Admiral--to two of them in particular. And thank you so much for letting us know."

Her voice was hoarse with emotion, and her eyes were filling as she watched Chakotay, who had managed only semi-coherent thanks just before Paris signed off, rise unsteadily from his seat and begin to pace. She rose with him, waiting for his reaction.

At last he came to a halt and said, in a voice that quavered slightly, "Is it real?"--and they both laughed with delight and relief, and she stepped forward and threw her arms about him, feeling that now, only now, was she really home.

His arms enfolded her so tightly she could hardly breathe, and she felt him sag a little against her as the anxiety drained from him in a rush. "I didn't know what a weight it was," he said, his voice muffled a little by her hair, "until it was lifted."

She held him closer, the tears spilling from her eyes and moist on his own cheek where hers pressed against his--

--and the embrace begun in friendship and exultant celebration became something more. How he knew, what he sensed, he could not have said--perhaps a slight change in the pressure or position of her arms around his shoulders or her hands against his back, her slight step to close the space between her hips and his thighs, the softness of her breasts against his chest, a slight catch in her warm breath against his neck and ear--perhaps because she didn't draw away at the moment his long association with her, his intimate knowledge of her, told him she would. Only once had he ever held her so close, to comfort her on New Earth when she had lost everything that mattered to her, but this, this was no longer a comforting embrace--

There had always been a wall between them. They'd both built it in equal measure, both supplying stones and mortar--or maybe, Janeway thought, she was the unyielding stone and he the adhering but flexible mortar, strengthening her resolve, doing nothing to undermine it except once in a while reveal he was human after all and lonely, just as she had done. But something had changed, was changing, as she stood within the circle of his arms. His head tipped forward a little so that she felt his sigh upon her neck, so that she felt the pulsebeat in his throat beneath her chin, too fast for a man who was just standing still--

At the same instant they tensed, and pulled apart, and their faces turned toward each other and touched in passing, so that she felt the gentle, fleeting tug of new beard in her hair, so that he breathed in the scent as her hair brushed across his face, and they froze with their mouths not quite meeting, eyes wide and startled, trembling in each other's arms--

He kissed her. He parted her lips with his tongue and traced their moist curves, caressed her temples and cheeks and throat with his fingertips, sought the curves of her breasts with his palms--

He did not really kiss her, nor did his hands knead her breasts and buttocks, but he imagined it, imagined thrusting his tongue into her mouth, pulling her against him so she could feel his arousal against her abdomen, spreading her thighs with his knees and plunging deep into damp, sensual heat--and she must have read his thoughts in his face because her expression changed, and she swallowed, and her quick-drawn breath was almost a gasp. He looked down at her for what seemed a long time, into an expression he'd last seen three years before, when she'd told him Mark was married-- No, further back, into the face of the woman sitting across from him at a nondescript shelter table, who had wept when he poured his heart into her hands, the woman he'd known before New Earth had been granted them and then taken away, the woman he had desired, and loved--

He was stunned, disoriented by what had happened to him--to them? His mouth was dry, but he was glad he couldn't speak, glad to let the moment be what it was without the risk of confusing it with something he might, to his own astonishment, even now wish it could be. And yet--in her face was a surprised, searching look--

Was she the first to step back, to put an arm's length of empty space between them, or did he open his arms to release her? She could not have said, but she heard a few stones crumble from the wall. She could see that he heard them too, and felt the small vibrations of the floor when they fell at his feet--

"What are you thinking?" she asked, never taking her eyes from his.

He drew a deep, slow breath, let it out without a sound, without stirring the wisps of disarranged hair about her face. "That--we have an announcement to make." His voice was rough.

She knew it was only partly true, and that he was aware that she knew. "No--" she said, smiling, "--you do the honors." She linked her arm with his, in the way she often had before, and ushered him toward the door. "And then we'll celebrate. I'll bet the party starts before you even finish your speech."

As they entered the bridge everyone turned as one to stare at them, anxiously, but immediately caught their mood and began to hope. "Anything in particular you want me to tell them?"

"That they're welcome on my ship for as long as they want to stay."

She remained in the ready-room alcove and let him take the command center alone. He stood with his feet apart, his hands clasped behind his back, all sign of fatigue gone, relief and maybe something else lending him new energy. He looked good there, she thought; he'd look good on his own bridge someday. And then she thought, Someday soon?, and felt a pang somewhere deep inside.

"Intraship, Harry," he said briskly, with a wink in her direction. By his reserved standards he was practically bubbling, and she smiled to see his growing delight as the new and happy reality sank in.

Kim stabbed with enthusiasm at the control panel. "Yes, sir. Go ahead."

"Attention all hands. This is Commander Chakotay." Tom Paris's eyes were locked on him, but his own gaze was directed primarily at his captain. "Captain Janeway has given me leave to convey to you the contents of a message we just received from Admiral Paris. You'll all receive copies, but the short version is--" And now he looked in turn at Paris, Ayala, one or two others-- "--the Maquis are free."

Kim stabbed at his console again--it's a good thing those screens are tough, Janeway thought--and the bridge was filled with the sound of a hundred and thirty-odd voices, Starfleet veteran and Maquis alike, raised in cheers, whoops, whistles. Ayala sagged against the wall, Jor wiped tears off the Engineering board, and even Tuvok exuded a new serenity. Paris let out a sound that was almost a sob and sprang up from the helm; he had taken several strides before he checked himself and looked sheepishly at Janeway, who merely grinned and jerked her head toward the lift and mouthed Go! He went, but not before giving Chakotay's shoulder an energetic smack. The cheering went on for some minutes, Chakotay making no attempt to stop it, letting the waves of good will wash over him and fill every room and corridor on the ship, almost, Janeway thought, as if accepting an acknowledgment of the long years of hard, loyal service given by himself and his crew. They deserved that acknowledgment, and he let them hear it, let them all hear it. Worry about the Maquis had only increased when the five remaining Equinox crewmen had been taken off Voyager without ceremony by a dozen security officers at DS 23, the first starbase they'd reached on the final leg of their odyssey. It had been impossible not to fear that such a by-the-book action boded ill for the remaining crew whose Starfleet status was, to say the least, questionable, and Chakotay allowed the thunderous relief at a happier outcome to swell as it would until it began to settle of its own accord.

When his shipmates quieted a little he spoke again, and they were soon silent. "Our citizenship has been restored and our Starfleet commissions validated. We're free. Our lives are our own in a way they weren't just a few minutes ago. We can decide our own fate when we're ready to, and Captain Janeway has made it clear that we're welcome to stay aboard Voyager if we choose." He turned to face her, and gazed at her steadily with a mixture of deference and affection. "Don't doubt for a minute that we owe that freedom to our captain; she's fought hard for us ever since we got back into contact with Starfleet. I'm sure I speak for all the Maquis when I offer her our gratitude, and I know I speak for her when I say--welcome home, everyone. Chakotay out."

If anything the cheering was louder this time, and Harry had to shout over the din that Neelix was breaking out the champagne in the mess hall.

"I should hunt up the Maquis," Chakotay said. He had stepped over to the alcove so he wouldn't have to yell.

"See you at the party in a little while."

"I'll be there."

But will you always--now? An hour before, she might have clasped his hand, but now she kept her arms safely folded across her chest, though she didn't take her eyes from him as he headed for the lift, gripping Harry's proffered hand on the way and taking the other Maquis with him. She envied him his distractions, envied him having something to do, someplace to go, people to see. All she could do was turn the bridge over to Tuvok and retreat into her ready room to think.

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

The party was in full swing by the time she arrived, Neelix having apparently stockpiled not only champagne but a dozen other genuinely alcoholic beverages during their brief stop at DS 23. She even saw something that looked and smelled suspiciously like Romulan ale, but thought it wiser not to ascertain whether her morale officer had broken Federation law within a week of his arrival. Harry was already planning the first reunion, extracting promises from everyone, including Seven of Nine, that they would attend, while B'Elanna was complaining to the Doctor about not being allowed the tiniest of celebratory drinks even in the final days, perhaps hours, of her pregnancy. Even as she watched them with a proud, tender smile, Janeway reflected that it was a captain's ironic lot that uppermost in her mind at that moment were the memories of those who had not come home. But this was not the time to grieve, and the smile on her face was unfeigned as she headed for the hors d'oeuvres.

Chakotay arrived at the same objective at the same time, having entered the mess hall through the other door. She had thought herself prepared to see him again, to speak with him casually in public, but when she sensed the tension beneath his apparent nonchalance, she knew that speaking casually was more than they could manage just now. He was clumsy reaching for a cup of punch and spilled a little, and she was conscious of the faint tremor of her hand as she blotted at the spot with a napkin, conscious of his gaze directed at her hand, and then her face. Their old ease in each other's company was gone. Could they get it back? Did they want to? Was she imagining things?

"Hi," he said. "Enjoying the party?"

I want you. God, I want you. He wanted her mouth on his mouth, setting fire to his chest, his shaft, wanted to touch her hair, her skin, to explore her body, silky and hot against his questing fingers, wanted her as he hadn't wanted her since New Earth--wanted to put his arms around her and never let go-- I shouldn't be thinking these things. You're my captain, and it was only the moment. But we're home now. Things are different. Aren't they? Are they? Can they be?

"Hi yourself," she said. "I've never enjoyed a party more in my life. It still doesn't seem real--"

I want you. God, I want you. She wanted to devour him, wanted to squeeze him and stroke him and make him writhe, wanted to feel his urgent hands caressing her, kneading her, urgent lips and tongue exploring her, to feel his weight above her, his heat inside her--wanted to take his hand and never have to let go-- That wall is crumbling. There went another stone or two when you smiled. I shouldn't be thinking these things. You're my first officer, and it was only the moment, the shared relief, and seeing your guard slip a little-- But--what if it wasn't?

"I know what you mean."

He wondered if his voice sounded normal to her ears. To his it sounded rather scratchy and absurdly adolescent, but he would draw out the small talk all night if he had to. He didn't want to leave her again, but this was hardly the time or the place to talk about what had or hadn't happened in her ready room, and they couldn't stand there staring at each other next to the noodle rolls and the bloodworm tarts. Her next words demonstrated that she must have been thinking something similar, though without his same willingness to wait for a little more privacy, without, ever, his same patience.

"Have you had a chance to consider your options? Admiral Paris did say the Maquis could remain in Starfleet--" She tried to say it without any special significance, but didn't think she'd quite succeeded. His response made her certain she hadn't.

He looked straight at her. If she wanted to talk here and now, then they'd talk, here and now. "I don't know--a change might be good. It might open some doors."

"Yes--it might."

They were, for those few seconds, alone in a little bubble of space with no one close to them. "Kathryn--" He took a small step forward. "Was it only the moment?" Was it only emotional excitement translating into physical need? Would we have reacted that way with any of our other friends? Will we wake up tomorrow and wonder what all the fuss was about?

She met his gaze, steadily. "No." No, it wasn't the moment. It was you and me, and doors opening and walls crumbling. There--did you feel that thud? That was another stone, a big one, and if you don't stop looking at me like that the rest of them are going to go-- "No," she said again, softer but somehow richer with promise.

He drew a deep breath and pressed his lips together to hide a joyful grin--but the joy was in his eyes, a light that hadn't been there a moment before, a shining ember trembling on the edge of flame. "Then you'll have my request for transfer in the morning."

Her smile was wistful. "I knew you wouldn't make me say it." She, too, drew a breath. "With regret, but also with anticipation, I'll accept that request." The ember glowed more brightly in his eyes for having been answered in hers. "I'll accept it--as long as we're agreed that the--transfer--won't be effective for some weeks. After all, I still need a fine first officer." I need you focused on your job. I need me focused on my job--

"You've still got one, for as long as you need him." Do you think I can't wait another few weeks? Anticipation will only increase the eventual pleasure-- He took another breath. "In the morning, then. Enjoy the party, Captain."

"You too, Commander."

But though they mingled determinedly with their crew for the remainder of the night, sometimes their eyes met and held across the room, and neither could have related very many of the details of the various conversations in which they took part.

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

"Look at them! I'm telling you--it's a countdown in progress."

"What is?"

"The captain and Chakotay. Right before our eyes, I swear. Who'd have believed it after all this time?"

"Oh, come on--they're on opposite sides of the room."

"B'Elanna, B'Elanna, you have no sense of romance."

"Gee, thanks. I'll show you romance when I give birth to your daughter on a cushion of leola root pies. Would you stop snooping and help me up, please?"

"Oh, right, sorry-- Look at that! There are sparks shooting across the room--FIREballs!"

"How much champagne have you had? I don't see anything--Harry, do you see anything?"

"Well, not now--but they were kind of staring at each other on the bridge earlier--"

"Harry, old buddy, there's hope for you yet."

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

Three and a half minutes into the first shift of the day, Janeway's door chimed. She took a deep breath before she answered. She seemed to be taking a lot of deep breaths lately. "Come in."

"Good morning, Captain." Chakotay had a padd in his hand and a new liveliness in his step.

"Good morning, Commander." His smile broadened at her brisk, professional tone, and she had to drop her eyes briefly and take another deep breath. She stepped out from behind her desk and propped her hips against the edge, clasping her hands before her, staring at the padd. "I wish it didn't have to be this way."

After a pause, he said, "It doesn't." She looked up, bewildered. He was still smiling, but gently now, with a little less certainty. "If you want more than what we already have, I'll go. But if you've decided it was the moment after all--then I'd like to stay."

Her eyes filled. So generous-- She had posed this very question to herself numerous times during a mostly sleepless night. Of course she didn't want to give up the friendship, the partnership, they'd had, but that partnership was now irreversibly changed, just as it had been after New Earth. She suspected, however, that it had already begun to change, simply because they had come home. And now that they had come home--

"I want more."

She said it with her usual firm decisiveness, and the confidence leapt back into his eyes. He stepped close and held out the padd. "In that case, Captain, I respectfully request a transfer."

Even though she was sure, she yet required another moment before she could accept it from him. This was it, the beginning of the end of a professional relationship that had spanned seven years and two quadrants. Her hand closed around it, her fingers brushing his as he let go. "I never thought I'd be happy to receive such a request."

His eyes crinkled at the corners. "Never?"

"You couldn't have requested one then," she retorted, grateful to him for giving her a reason to smile.

And then he spoke again, quietly earnest and yet at the same time calmly matter-of-fact. "That's a pretty dry document, and I want you to know something I couldn't include. I love this ship. I love this crew. I'm more at home here than I've ever been in my life. Except once, on New Earth. If your answer had been different this morning I'd have stayed on Voyager and I'd have been content. But I'm glad you answered the way you did because as much as I love this ship and crew--I love you more."

His reference to New Earth should have prepared her, but still she looked at him with amazement, the same amazement and gratitude she had felt then, when he had told her how the angry warrior had found peace.

"Just so you know," he added, with one of those wise half-smiles, "--and I promise I won't say it again until we're on leave, and then I won't stop."

And she felt the wall reform, as solid and strong as it had ever been, for as long as she needed it to be.

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

There followed a month of unavoidable but tedious duties that had a great deal more to do with public relations than with running a starship. The day of Admiral Paris's happy communication proved to be the last on which any of the senior officers had thirty minutes to spend as they chose. Voyager was flooded with boarding requests from reporters and scientists and engineers, with requests for interviews and tours, and Chakotay fielded those while Janeway fielded admirals, boards of inquiry, condolence calls, and the courts-martial of the five Equinox crewmen.

She was on the comm for two solid days for that ordeal and exhausted by the time it was over, and he was not surprised that she withdrew a little from him in the aftermath, having been forced to relive in grim detail one of the worst periods of Voyager's entire journey and of their partnership as well. Even apart from those few days, unless they were entertaining officials they saw each other seldom except over report padds and quick working dinners in the mess hall--but in those few private moments in the ready room or a turbolift they allowed an electric glance, a touch, a provocative comment. He might brush stray hairs back from her face and let his fingers caress the line of her jaw, and she might let her hand linger on his shoulder or stroke his hand with her thumb while they sat on the sofa among stacks of padds, but nothing more. It was thrilling not to indulge in even a kiss, to wait, to let the anticipation build. What had been unspoken between them was now openly acknowledged; it was no longer if but when.

"How are you holding up?" he asked her one night after a long dinner with the latest bunch of Starfleet engineers--a dinner at which the captain and first officer had been much less necessary to the exchange of information than the chief engineer and her staff, and could have spent their time far more productively at their own work, thus avoiding this late session in the ready room. He was glad to be able to be more open in his concern, glad she was willing to admit her fatigue to him in a way she never had before.

"Oh, not so bad," she replied, her voice somewhat distorted by the slow neck rolls she was doing in a futile effort to relieve a modicum of stress. "You?" She, too, had become more solicitous, no longer taking his steady strength so much for granted, and he did not pretend quite so often with her that his energy was bottomless.

"Tell me again how much longer before we can take our leave?"

"There can't be that many more technicians who want to look us over, or admirals who want to interrogate me. Then I can park the ship in spacedock and go. Surely we can finish up in another couple of weeks or less."

"Less sounds better."

"To me, too. Why do you think I'm keeping this desk in between us?"

His gaze slowly traveled what he could see of her torso, and the desk was almost inadequate to its task. "I'm looking forward to it."

"Me too." Her saucy smile faded. "We have a lot of talking to do."

"About seven years' worth, I'd say."

Seven years of things that couldn't be said, by either of them, when in the next breath she might have to order him into the mouth of hell for the good of their ship, their crew, their family--the ship and crew that had brought them together but also kept them apart. "Too bad we can't get a head start. But I can't until--"

"I know--until there's nothing in the way."

She sighed. "'Nothing in the way.' That sounds nice." Her smile was luminous, and longing.

"It sure does," he said, his voice dropping half an octave--

--and she knew he was no longer thinking of mere rank and responsibility in the way. No desks, no uniforms, naked flesh against naked flesh-- And I haven't read a romance novel in years. Her face grew warm, and other places, and he shifted his hips and wickedly refused to look away, and she said rather desperately, "We're still captain and first officer. We could be sent on a mission in the next five minutes. I don't think they would but in an emergency it could happen--" Focus. We have to focus-- And besides, we're too tired--

His rising passion yielded to his usual mix of affection and amusement. "Then how about a neck rub?"

"At the moment that sounds even nicer. You are a saint. If we were still counting rations I'd trade you half my monthly allowance."

He stepped around behind her and set his hands to work at the taut muscles of her neck and shoulders, and she sighed at his familiar, long-absent touch. "I've been thinking about letting my hair grow out."

His hands stopped, and then started again; his breathing deepened audibly in the silence and stirred the hair at her crown. "Have you?" His fingers combed slowly through her hair, then prodded gently at her nape and scalp. "Ready for a change?"

"A change back, I think."

"My warrior woman--" he murmured, and was lost in a fantasy of silken strands of red and gold flowing over his chest, his hips, his groin, wrapped around-- His hands emerged from her hair and rested lightly on her shoulders. "Sorry, but I should go now--or I'll have to beam straight into a cold shower." They hadn't been more than a foot inside each other's quarters in weeks, but clearly the ready room was equally unsafe.

She caressed his hands with her fingertips, brought them forward and kissed the backs, letting the fine black hairs tickle her lips, kissed his palms, his wrists. He had good hands, dexterous and strong from years of manual labor and etching stone, but gentle, too. She was looking forward to learning what he could do with those hands, but in the meantime--she did have a sofa in here, a long one, if narrow-- It was possible, and who needed a sofa anyway, she could simply turn and take him in her mouth, he was the perfect height-- In an instant she was pink and hot from her chest to her hairline. But not too tired, obviously-- "Yes, I think you'd better--"

She did turn then, and looked up to see her own arousal reflected in his eyes, his body, but he was smiling, too, as was she, with shared anticipation. "We're like kids with a secret," he said. "I'll bet the whole ship knows by now."

"You know what? I really don't care."

"Neither do I. What kind of an example is that for the command team to set?"

"We should be ashamed of ourselves."

"Oh, I am. Mortified." One last caress of her hair, one last fingertip brushed against her neck beneath her collar. And then, softly, "Goodnight, Captain."

One last appreciative, resigned sigh. "Goodnight, Commander."

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

A month encompassing happy duties--like Boylan and White's wedding, the two crewmen having decided that since they had met on Voyager they wanted to marry there before they spent time with their families and then took up their new posts, wherever they might be.

And bittersweet occasions, like the good-bye party Janeway gave in Chakotay's honor. Even that, however, was leavened by Paris's edging up to her with a friendly leer and asking, "Where did you say you were going to spend your leave, Captain?"

"I haven't decided yet, Mr. Paris," she replied, and sipped innocently from her punch.

"That's odd--Chakotay said the same thing. If you two had dithered this much in the Delta Quadrant, we might never have gotten home." He sauntered away looking entirely too pleased with himself.

Chakotay, overhearing, allowed his smiling gaze to brush hers before he meandered off to chat with Neelix, and she didn't see him up close again until it was time for her speech. She kept it short and sweet, saying simply that she'd been blessed with the best first officer she could possibly have asked for in their uniquely challenging circumstances, and the best friend anyone could ever want in any circumstances. Chakotay, embarrassed, alternated between looking at the floor and looking at her, and they looked at each other while everybody said "hear, hear." And then, because they would expect her to, she hugged him--but she needn't have worried that they would give anything away because this embrace was a sad good-bye, and she was glad to end it.

When the doors had closed on the "good-night"s echoing down the corridor, however, she took his hands, now feeling anything but sad. "I'd invite you stay for a nightcap but I don't think it would be wise."

"I'd have to agree with you. Thanks for the party, Kathryn."

"Part of me still wishes I hadn't had to give this one."

"Part of me, too." A sudden naughty gleam appeared in his eyes. "But not all parts."

"Me either." She raised his hands to her lips and kissed every knuckle and crease until they were both breathing hard.

"That was--nice." He read the temptation in her eyes, knew she saw the same in his, and then he sighed. "What if we do get a mission?"

"They wouldn't dare. Send us away again so soon after we've gotten home? The ship needs time in spacedock, half the crew are on leave--"

"The ship's in good shape, and crew complement can be restored within twenty-four hours. What if we do get a mission?"

"I'll do my damnedest to get out of it. If I can't get out of it I'll go without you. I won't risk you now."

He gave a dismissive snort. "With all due respect, if you think I'd let you go without me you're out of your mind." If anything were to happen to her now, if he failed her in his last weeks, days, as her second-in-command--he would not shoulder that burden, even though she asked it of him.

"Is that any way for a first officer to talk to his captain?"

"It's all I can get away with right now." His tone was light, but his eyes burned with banked-down passion. She gave the look back to him, and his hands tightened on hers. "So what would we do?"

"Make it the shortest mission on record. Now get out of here before I say to hell with protocol." Cracks were appearing in the wall, chips falling away--

"Yes, ma'am." But he kissed each fingertip, sucking gently, before he released her hands, and smiled when she shivered. At the door he turned. "Kathryn--thanks for letting me know this is real, too."

She smiled in a kind of wonder. "I don't quite believe it myself."

"Then we'll have to try very hard to convince each other." In the last few weeks she'd shown him so many smiles that she'd never shown him before. He committed this one to memory, too. "Good-night, Captain."

"Good-night, Commander. Sleep well."

At once the gleam was back in his eyes. "About as well as you will."

"I'll get you back for that--"

"Promise?"

She hit the control pad and pushed him through the door almost before it opened, then closed it again on his devilish grin. Heading for the shower, she spared a moment to be thankful she no longer had to account for her water usage--

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

Five days before the tentative date of Chakotay's departure, the new first officer came aboard. Janeway had asked Tuvok if he wanted the post, but he expressed a general preference for security work and also a desire to spend time on Vulcan with his family as soon as he was free to do so. Commander Mkali, fresh from his assignment as FO on a small scout ship, was grateful for the overlap, a rare luxury in an organization whose hazardous nature meant that transfers of senior officers could not always be so leisurely. Chakotay was able to acquaint him with his filing system, with the records of those crew members who were staying aboard, and the personnel protocols he had developed, but at the same time he was poignantly aware that within a very few weeks Voyager would be all but unrecognizable as the ship he'd called home for seven years. Almost two-thirds of the crew would be new. He had handled most of those transfers and briefings by now, amused that the recent arrivals were all a bit in awe of their assignments to a ship and a captain already legendary. He felt both possessive and a bit silly for feeling it, as if he were turning a favorite house over to new owners--not that he'd ever felt possessive about any of his dwellings except Voyager--

"I beg your pardon?" Mkali was speaking.

"I was just saying it's a lot of new crew at one time."

Chakotay wished he knew more about African tribes so he could place the man's slight accent. They were working in his office, whose walls he'd already stripped of his own tribal adornments--as if he might, for some reason, be in a hurry to get away-- "True, but I think on the whole that's a benefit. They'll help those who are remaining on board to adjust to being in the Alpha Quadrant again--though some, I suspect, won't be able to."

"You sound as if you have a few in mind."

"I do."

"And you aren't going to tell me who they are."

"No, because I might be wrong about them."

Mkali nodded in what seemed to be approval. "What can you tell me about Captain Janeway?" It was an obvious question, but Mkali had wisely waited to ask it until he'd spent some time in Chakotay's company.

"Haven't you heard a lot in the news?"

Mkali's smile was dismissive. "Sure, but that's the news. Can't trust anything you hear there--every account is different."

Chakotay had to like a man who was such a thoroughgoing skeptic. "I could tell you a lot about her, but I'm not going to. You need to find your own way with her, just like I did--I'm not going to bias you one way or another. Besides, I've never worked with her in routine Starfleet situations. I don't know what she'll be like here." Not that Voyager's mission would be remotely routine at first; after her time in spacedock the ship would be visiting one science and engineering station after another for at least six months. Kathryn would be going stir crazy and she'd probably take it out on Mkali--but why hand Mkali the preparation he himself had not enjoyed? "But you come highly recommended, Mr. Mkali. Just do your job and she won't have any complaints. But-- I have a favor to ask you."

"I'll be pleased to grant it if I can."

"Look out for her, to the extent that she'll let you. She's worried about us for seven years--she's that kind of captain." So much for not revealing anything about Kathryn Janeway-- "And I've worried about her for seven years, and I'm not going to stop just because I won't be her first officer any longer."

"I'll do my best. I'm a worrier by nature."

Chakotay grinned. "Glad to hear it." If you weren't already, she'd make you one. "Something else?" For Mkali looked suddenly pensive.

"I was thinking--that it must have been an extraordinary seven years."

Chakotay was visited with a flood of memories, most of which made him smile. He said softly, "Yes, it was--but it's time to move on."

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

"You're handing me this game, you know--just like you've handed me the last ten. You should be embarrassed to be losing to a woman who's just had a baby."

Torres, working on getting back into shape after Miral's birth--safely in Sickbay rather than amid the leola root pies but only two days after the party--had jumped at Chakotay's invitation to regular hoverball games; but she had begun to regard him with growing scorn for his continually poor performance. Nevertheless, now that spending time with Kathryn was more unsettling than relaxing, he was grateful for her company and glad she and Paris were still aboard; with Tom's family in San Francisco and B'Elanna in no hurry to schedule a reunion with her own father--though their renewed communication seemed so far to be going well--there was no need for them to race away from the ship.

"Sorry, B'Elanna--I can't seem to concentrate these days." Most of the time he couldn't manage to connect the bat to the ball, and when he did his shots usually went wild.

"Well, I can't blame you. You must feel pretty disoriented. I know I do--this ship won't be the same without you." She set the ball on pause and sat down on a padded bench for a breather. "I never thought you'd leave Voyager. You've fit in here better than any of us, better than I thought you would--especially in the beginning when things were so rocky between you and Captain Janeway. I guess I can't quite believe you'd really leave her, and I never would have thought she'd take it so well if you did. She didn't even cry at your party, even though everybody else got misty-eyed."

Three more days, he was thinking, only three more days-- He bent over to tighten the laces of his boot. "I have to leave her to get her--" he said, and then cursed himself inwardly for the slip.

She stared at him, and then grinned slowly with dumbfounded revelation. "My God, Tom's right! A lot of us used to wonder, but I said neither of you would ever--"

"You were right, but things are different now. Look, not a word to anyone, B'Elanna, please, not until we're gone. Obviously my game isn't the only thing I'm not concentrating on."

"Okay--except for Tom. He can be discreet, you know, when he really puts his mind to it. He's been saying there's something going on between you two. I said he was imagining things, but I don't see you together as often as he does--" She studied him a moment, and then added, "You've waited a long time."

"Well, it was sort of off and on, but--yes."

Another revelation came to her. "And you've waited the last month."

He shrugged. "She's still the captain, and I'm still her first officer."

She regarded him with utter disbelief. "You've waited?"

As if to a simpleton, he repeated more firmly and distinctly, "She's still the captain. And I'm still her first officer. We're on active duty. We could get an assignment. If we were--more than we are, what would it do to her to order me into danger--maybe order me to die? She has to be able to think of me as expendable. And how would I respond if she did?" Once she had ordered him to risk, in all probability to lose, his sanity. Would he have obeyed a lover or spouse more willingly, or less? Might he challenge her even more freely if he felt he had the right, and if so, what would be the effect of his changed attitude, and hers, on both relationships--the private and the professional?

B'Elanna was giving his argument serious consideration. "Maybe. But even so, in her place I think I'd have tried to make it work."

Without hesitation, Chakotay replied, "So would I. But I knew she never would, and so I let it go. Until--" he checked his chronometer with a grin "--67 hours and twelve minutes from now."

She snorted in amusement. "No wonder you've wanted to play hoverball every other day, and no wonder you can't hit the ball straight." She enjoyed the flush suffusing his cheeks, the arch narrowing of his eyes, the rueful pursing of his lips--it wasn't easy to get under Chakotay's skin, and she intended to make the most of it. And then she saw something in his eyes she'd never seen there before--joy. Her own expression softened, and she put a hand on his arm. "Be happy, Chakotay." He greeted this sentiment with evident surprise, and she rolled her eyes in self-disgust. "Tom's turned me into a romantic sap. But I'll still take Janeway's head off with my bat-leth if she hurts you--"

Maybe it was just because his emotions were running on overtime, but Chakotay found himself blinking rapidly, absurdly touched. "I'll pass that along."

"You do that." She covered her own embarrassment by getting them each a drink of water from the tank in the corner of the court, but when she sat back down she couldn't help indulging her curiosity further. "You were together on New Earth, weren't you? We always wondered." She knew she was prying, but just now he seemed more friend than commanding officer, and willing to loosen up a little.

"No, we weren't. But we were getting there." Though he wouldn't have sought a confidant, after so many years of silence, talking to someone who knew both of them well was something of a release.

"Didn't you want to keep going?"

"Sure, but it wasn't my call, and Kathryn never made it. Looking back, though, I don't think it would have been a good idea. She was different on New Earth; I was different. I don't know if we could have juggled all our various roles and responsibilities on board ship."

"But you wanted to try."

"Yes."

"Did you ever discuss it with her?"

"No. You can't make somebody love you by pushing them to set aside patterns of behavior they really believe in. We had enough strains on our friendship and our professional relationship without manufacturing another one. There's also the fact that as my captain she's responsible for my behavior and my actions and my life in a way no lover would ever be."

"But you made it work with Seska."

He flinched slightly. "I'd say Seska is a good argument against it."

"Because she took advantage of the relationship. You wouldn't do that."

"No, but if I'd pushed Kathryn the way Seska pushed me, I'd have lost her--the way Seska lost me. Not only the possibility of a romantic relationship, but her friendship--and this would have been a damned lonely journey without it." He had risked that friendship only for the safety of ship and crew, never by asking more from it than Kathryn had been prepared to give. "A relationship has to happen in its own time, when both parties are ready for it. If one never is, the other has to let go and move on."

This time her disbelief was softened with affection. "You're either the noblest guy I've ever known--" She paused, and he waited for the rest of it. "--or the biggest fool."

"Maybe the noblest fool," he countered with a self-conscious smile, and she reflected that it was the most revealing thing he'd ever said to her.

She tossed the cups into the recycler and stood over him. "So--you want to lose another game?"

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

When Chakotay came in five minutes before the end of his shift, his last shift as Voyager's first officer, Janeway rose to meet him. He tucked the padd he was carrying under one arm so he could clasp both her hands when she held them out to him.

"I know it's in a good cause," she said, her eyes sparkling and warm, "but I don't want to say good-bye."

"Neither do I." But he looked happier than she felt, as usual better at handling change than she was, better able to look forward rather than back.

They were separating for only a few days, to give Janeway time to tidy up some loose ends and work more closely with Mkali before leaving the ship in his care for an extended period; but the good-bye was permanent, a lasting farewell to the only way they had ever known each other, the only life they had ever shared. Tears filled her eyes, but she smiled through them. "I should be able to finish up on schedule."

"I'm pleased to hear it."

"I can't wait to enjoy a little time with you--I feel as though I've hardly seen you these past weeks. And I'm tired of being so wired on coffee I can't sleep."

"If you didn't push yourself so hard you wouldn't need coffee to keep your synapses firing," he pointed out reasonably.

"The harder I work the quicker I can finish," she countered. And the quicker I can do something about lying awake wanting you--

"Just so long as you don't plan to sleep the month away."

"Hardly," she said, and the sudden husky timbre of her voice made his heart pound. "See? No desk."

"Yes, I do see."

They had each managed quick visits to their families so that they could spend the first of their seven months' accumulated leave together. Chakotay knew Kathryn would never take all her leave at the same time as he was planning to do, and the fact that she wanted to spend an entire month with him both astonished and exhilarated him.

"We still haven't decided where we're going to meet," she reminded him. Even in the little time they'd had for personal conversation, she hadn't been able to get him to make plans, though she didn't believe for a minute his claims that he was simply too busy to think that far ahead.

He handed her the padd he had brought in. "These coordinates, 1800 hours day after tomorrow. Dress casual."

Her eyes widened. "Are you going to boss me around like this for our whole leave? Where is this?"

"You'll find out soon enough. There's one more thing I have to take care of before I go."

"What's that?"

"This--"

--and he took her in his arms and kissed her as she had never been kissed before, and never would be again. Never would she experience another first kiss with a man who had loved her, in one way or another, for seven years with no promise of fulfillment, who had kept extremes of emotion under iron control, who had adapted to her moods but now could reveal his own feelings as never before. She was stunned by his unrestrained passion, and he was surprised by what was inside him to be released; she clutched him to her and returned the kiss with all the fervor of a woman letting go of self-imposed restraint, and together they broke down a wall that had once been impervious but now shattered into dust.

When at last they drew apart, breathless and shaking, he said, "I need to sit down."

She laughed and sagged against him. "You'd be taking a chance on not getting out of here anytime soon."

"That's supposed to make me go?" Their mouths met again, hungry and teasing. "This, by the way, is what I was thinking about in your ready room that day. I always wanted to kiss you in your ready room."

"I was thinking pretty much the same thing. And if I didn't have a meeting with Tuvok in fifteen minutes I'd walk you to your quarters, maybe make sure we got stuck in a turbolift on the way."

"I'll cherish that thought." Reluctantly he backed away. "Your lipstick is smudged."

"It isn't supposed to do that, but I haven't had much opportunity to test the marketing claims." She wiped the smudges from his lips with her fingertips and he pressed his lips against them. "I'm looking forward to more tests."

"Me too. Kathryn--I just want to say that even though we're moving on to something wonderful, we're also saying good-bye, and I'll miss this."

Her vision blurred again. "Me too." She drew a deep, sad breath, and followed it with a radiant smile. "See you soon."

"I'll be waiting."

It was an acknowledgment of how it would always be, that for the foreseeable future he would be the one who would have to give, and something in his expression moved her to take his face in her hands and kiss him until he couldn't breathe. "Just so you know."

His whole soul seemed to glow in his eyes. One last kiss, and then, "Don't be late," he said, and was gone.

She swiped at her mouth with a napkin, and then followed him as far as the alcove, watching as he stood in the center of the bridge one last time. Mkali was there, but to one side, respectfully refraining from taking what was now his seat while Chakotay was still present. Paris was the first to stand at attention, and then Tuvok and Torres and Seven and everyone else, and Janeway blinked back yet more tears upon seeing Chakotay's genuine astonishment. He turned slowly and looked at them one by one. "Thanks," he said quietly. "It's been a pleasure." She wondered if he perhaps felt some real regret after all, more than he would ever admit to her. And then he saw her watching him, watching him turn his back on a job and a ship and a crew he loved, knowing he was doing it for her, for them--and he smiled, and something inside her expanded, for she understood that what she was seeing was not regret, not for a moment. His last look was for her, and then he fairly bounced to the lift, his eyes holding hers until the door had closed.

As she turned, her gaze fell upon his chair and for a moment she was wistful--and then her eyes met Tom's as he sat down, and though he did wink--he was congenitally incapable of not winking--on his face was a smile, not a smirk, a genuinely affectionate, benevolent smile, and she found herself winking back.

Once in her ready room again she immediately looked up the coordinates at which she had been ordered to appear, and upon seeing what he had planned could only breathe into the empty room, "Oh, Chakotay--"

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

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