End and Begin Again

End and Begin Again

by Lady Janus

Disclaimer: No one owns imagination (thank the Universal Goddess), so just play with it! If the GOP (Gods of Paramount--that is) want this story, they're welcome to it.

Note: Another short story that got away from me. This time an A/U that takes the other path Janeway didn't take at the end of Engame. My biggest disappointment--besides the Chakotay/Seven crap--was the way it ended, with our favourite captain brooding alone on the bridge, barely a hint of triumph at her accomplishments and so little of her humanity left. I've tried in my own way to remedy that, plug up some glaring loopholes--like Tuvok's convenient illness--and along the way fix what I saw as the most egregious flaw in Voyager's cast of characters, the deus ex machina--Seven of Nine of course! In most other ways, I've tried to stick to canon when it comes to the characters, but I've taken liberties on the lower decks.

End and Begin Again

Part 1: To begin anew, choose direction

Rating: PG-13

"Where are we?" Kathryn Janeway asked; her face was strained and taut in the emergency lighting on the bridge.

"Right where we expected to be," came Tom Paris' quiet reply; the response she'd been expecting--dreading.

"All stop," she ordered.

"We're back in the delta quadrant, Captain," Kim reported, his voice catching on the words. "We're 294 light years from the delta-beta quadrant boarder--approximately 5247 light years from the Borg nebula."

But he didn't give the most telling statistic; she could calculate it for herself. They were still nearly 30,000 light years from the Federation. The bitter failure of it hit her squarely in the gut. The Admiral had died to gain them a paltry 5000 light years--all because at the last moment, she'd refused one last gamble on the safety of her ship and opted instead for the transwarp corridor that led back into the delta quadrant.

Kathryn Janeway stood in the middle of her bridge, buffeted by silent winds of ruined hopes and disappointment, and her soul wept. Then as if a door opened within her, beckoning her to give up and hide from the bitter reality of it. Instead, she ruthlessly pushed her emotions into that little room and slammed the door; they could damned-well wait until she was ready to face them.

Her voice was steady when she spoke again. She met Chakotay's gaze and thought she saw compassion there. "Commander, I'll need departmental reports as soon as possible--a thorough assessment of all damage."

"Aye Captain," he replied, moving past Seven of Nine. He touched her shoulder, squeezing it gently before making his way to the First Officer's chair.

A small spurt of indefinable emotion threatened the walls holding them back before Kathryn sealed the crack again. "Mr. Kim, find us a safe place to hide while we effect repairs," she continued.

Harry nodded, disappointment etched on his open face, but before he could reply, the Doctor's rather strident voice cut him off.

"Sickbay to Lieutenant Paris."

And in those words a collective wave of new hopes washed over Janeway as Paris turned expectantly to her. An infant's lusty wail filled the bridge.

"There's someone here who'd like to say hello," the Doctor continued with a sly, good humour that seemed to lighten the atmosphere considerably.

Kathryn smiled, grateful for this interruption and the good news inherent in the child's cry. "You'd better get down there, Tom," she said.

"Thanks, Captain," he said breathlessly and he bolted for the turbolift without waiting for his replacement to formally take the helm.

Janeway glanced around once more and sat down, preparing herself for the deluge of damage reports and inevitable backlash of emotions once it sank in for the crew how close they'd been to home before it had been snatched away--before she'd snatched it away.

Chakotay smiled down at the newest member of Voyager's family sleeping peacefully in his arms.

"She's absolutely beautiful, B'Elanna," he said softly. "I never thought I'd say it, but you and Tom made one gorgeous baby," he joked.

B'Elanna blushed umber under her caramel complexion and snuggled back into Paris' embrace as they lounged on the bed together. Chakotay chuckled as he sat on the edge of the bed and handed the baby back to B'Elanna; his old friend still had trouble taking a compliment about her beauty.

Paris grinned, the same proud and slightly foolish grin Chakotay was willing to bet he'd been wearing all day. The new father reached around his wife to stroke his daughter's forehead ridges and trailed his finger down her brow to her delicate, yet determined little chin.

"Yup, we sure do," Tom crowed happily and Chakotay was happy that they, at least, had something to celebrate.

B'Elanna seemed to read his thoughts. "How is everyone?" she asked soberly.

"Shell-shocked, disappointed that we didn't get back to the Federation--disheartened to be back in the delta quadrant again," he replied.

The light in Tom's eyes went out. "I know--I went to see Harry a little while ago," he said. "I've never seen him so bitter, Chakotay. He wouldn't even come to see Miral."

"Give him time, Tom," Chakotay said, meeting the younger man's blue eyes. "It's a painful blow."

"And the Captain?" B'Elanna persisted. "The Doctor said she came in earlier while I was asleep."

"Still on the bridge," he replied and squeezed her free hand as she started to speak. "She's taking it hard, but at the moment, that's where she needs to be."

"And you, Chakotay?"

He smiled at the concern in her soft voice. "I'm a little disappointed after all our efforts and the Admiral's sacrifice, but I'm fine, Bee. After all, I don't have much waiting for me in the alpha quadrant," he replied. He released her hand and stroked the baby's cheek again. "Home is where you make it, and right now, I've made Voyager my home. You'd be surprised at how many people have."

She looked up into Tom's eyes. "We know," she answered quietly.

Chakotay rose, leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. He turned and offered Paris his hand. "Don't worry you two," he said as they shook hands. "And don't feel guilty for your happiness. We'll get through this--they'll get through this. It'll just take some time. I'll see you guys later."

Their goodbye followed him into the corridor outside sickbay and he paused, reflecting on the dichotomy of reactions in his crewmates. All day he'd sensed something, which finally crystallised in his conversation with B'Elanna and Tom--in one sense, the old divisions between Starfleet and Marquis were back. Only now, the divisions were between those who'd made Voyager their home and those who still looked to Earth and the Federation as their home.

He looked up at the ceiling, thinking of the driven woman he'd left on the bridge working desperately to salvage some hope from the ashes of disappointment. He knew that she'd be blaming herself for putting the ship first and opting to take them away from the killing barrage of the Borg Sphere. The ablative hull armour had been ripped away, their shields and weapons were almost non-existent and yet, he knew that nothing he had to say would ever convince her that she had done the right thing. All her precious Starfleet training told her that she could have avoided destruction and brought her ship home--if only she'd been good enough.

No, he would never convince her that she was smart enough, fast enough--good enough--and he was tired of trying. Chakotay turned and headed for Astrometrics.

Kathryn studied the tactical report on the PADD in her hands without really seeing it, only half her mind on the steady, and surprisingly soothing, drone of Tuvok's voice as he updated their weapons status and defensive capabilities.

"Captain, by my calculations, you have been on duty for nineteen hours," he said, changing topics so abruptly that it jolted her from the dark corridors of her thoughts, guilt and self-recriminations where her mind had been wandering for the last few hours. "I think it is time for you to take a break. Alpha shift went off-duty over three hours ago."

"And you, Tuvok?" she whispered, meeting his gaze.

"Commander Chakotay has agreed to relieve me in five hours--"

She waved him silent and looked around the ready room, only the barely perceptible hum of the warp engines intruding on the quiet. "I meant how are you, Tuvok?" she asked, voice cracking at the last moment. "How are you holding up?"

Something ghosted through his dark eyes--emotion. "I am fine, Captain," he replied without a hint of whatever it was colouring his voice.

She rose from her chair and walked over to the viewport, standing with her back to him as he continued speaking.

"The Doctor's treatments ensure that I'm perfectly capable of carrying out my duties to this ship and will continue to do so for some time. It generally takes years before Vulcan cognitive abilities become irretrievably impaired due to voh-katra-roq and by that time Lieutenant Ayala should be sufficiently trained to handle Tactical."

"And when time runs out?" she asked, turning to face him again. Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to let them flow. "We were so close, Tuvok--the cure--"

"Captain!" He didn't raise his voice, so much as infused it with the hardness of duratanium alloy, which broke through the walls of her self-recrimination like a battering ram. Her eyes widened in surprise and her chin trembled as she regarded him. "As one surprisingly wise human adage puts it, we will 'cross that bridge when we come to it'."

She nodded.

"Please, Captain," he continued, his voice unbearably gentle again. "Get some rest. We are nearing the target solar system and it appears to be as deserted as scans indicate. The ship is safe for the moment and there will be much to do tomorrow."

Kathryn took a deep breath and nodded again. "Thank you, old friend," she whispered hoarsely.

He sketched a polite bow and left. The ready room door closed softly behind him and Kathryn stood watching it for a long moment, willing her tears back into their depths. She drew another deep breath and went to her desk, gathered up the scattered PADDS and strode to the door. She paused and looked around the bridge as gamma shift continued their work.

"You have the bridge, Commander Tuvok," she said.

"Aye, Captain," he replied, crossing down to the command chair. "I have the bridge."

She nodded her acknowledgement and walked purposefully to the turbolift, head held high.

Harry Kim sat motionless on the edge of his bed and regarded his reflection in the dark mirror across the room above his dressing table. He couldn't sleep. Nothing he did brought rest. He ached all over from a day of crawling through the bowels of the ship fixing hull breaches, sensor relays and plasma conduits. Yet no amount of exhaustion would bring sleep.

"What are you doing?"

His reflection seemed to taunt him as he remembered Tom's happy face when his friend had come to invite him to share in his joy. Harry cringed as he remembered his words and how Tom's face had fallen when his best friend had lashed out at him.

Harry swiped at his tears, rose and walked over to his closet. After seven years, he knew his quarters even in the dark. As he reached for a uniform, his hand brushed another uniform--his Buster Kincaid costume.

"Well I'm glad you're happy, Captain Proton?sorry if Buster Kincaid isn't a barrel of laughs today!"

The walls seemed to shout his angry words back at him--words that berated Tom for his joy in his daughter's birth. But as Harry's tears fell in the darkness, a weight dropped away from his heart and after what seemed an eternity, he was finally able to stop. His hand moved away from the costume, past his uniforms and reached for a cream shirt and a pair of fawn-coloured pants.

Calling for lights, he dressed quickly and went into the bathroom to wash his face. He regarded his wan face in the mirror as he dried it with a soft, white towel. Tom and B'Elanna would understand.

After running a brush through his short hair, he left the bathroom, slipped on a pair of casual shoes and went to the replicator. He tapped in a few commands and studied the resultant menu for a moment.

"One black plush targ--pattern Beta-12--with a collar and gold heart-shaped tag to read the following: My name is K'Halor, I belong to Miral."

Kathryn studied the new parents from the threshold of Sickbay. Tom and B'Elanna were so caught up in their daughter that they were oblivious to her presence. As they should be, her conscience prodded her.

A heated conversation--between Mortimer Harren and Lydia Anderson--overheard on her way to her quarters, had jolted Kathryn into remembering she still had one final duty to perform for the day.

It wasn't Harren's very vocal ire at finding himself once more in uncharted territory or his wrath for his Captain's "incompetence and inability, time after time, to take advantage of opportunities" to get them home" that had bothered her. It was his anger towards those able to weather the disappointment of not getting back to the alpha quadrant that had drawn her attention. Those like Tom and B'Elanna, Seven, Chakotay, the Marquis and the former Equinox crew--all those who in his words, "belonged in jail, if not under it."

Anderson had shouted him down and bullied him into her quarters. Kathryn hadn't realised that the belligerent young man was in a relationship with the quiet lieutenant in charge of Shield Maintenance. There was so much she didn't know about them, even after so many years on the same ship. However, she realised that Harren's attitude wouldn't be unique--was in fact normal given the circumstances. But she couldn't allow such feelings to fester or it would open a schism between the various factions of the crew, wider than the original animosity they'd endured during the first months after uniting the Starfleet and the Marquis crews.

The healing needed to start immediately. She had continued on to her quarters and went straight to her closet, dropping her PADDs on the dining table as she passed it. She pulled a navy blue cloth bag from the top shelf, opened it to assure herself everything was in order, and left her quarters quickly.

Now she stood just inside the Sickbay doors watching her officers--and friends--marvel over the new life they'd created.

"Is this a private party or can anyone join?" she asked, strolling over to B'Elanna's bed.

Torres' eyes lit up. "Captain!"

Kathryn leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. "Congratulations, B'Elanna," she said, before turning to offer Tom a warm hug and congratulations.

"Would you like to hold her, Captain?" B'Elanna asked gently. Kathryn nodded and placed her bag on the edge of the bed before taking the baby from her mother.

"My, you're a big, little girl," she said smiling down into the baby's hazel eyes. Kathryn stood entranced, gazing into those innocent trusting eyes as she stroked the soft halo of light brown hair. For an eternal moment, nothing existed for her but the child in her arms. She placed a forefinger into the baby's grasp.

"Strong as well as beautiful," she joked.

"Just like her mother," Harry's voice was soft in her ear, startling her as he peered over her shoulder.

"You can certainly say that again," Kathryn chuckled, joining his levity. But she could see the remnants of the young man's sorrow in his dark almond eyes.

"Harry," Tom said simply and drew him into a tight hug. They clapped each other soundly, before Harry moved out of Tom's embrace and sat on the bed to hug B'Elanna.

"You did great, Marquis," he said hoarsely and B'Elanna laughed at the old nickname.

"Thanks, Starfleet," she replied, kissing his pale cheek and hugging him again.

Kathryn watched their embrace with approval as the tension bled from Harry Kim's body. Tom was usually the more demonstrative partner, while his prickly wife generally held people at arms' length. In many ways, B'Elanna's understanding of Harry surprised Kathryn, but in the most important way it didn't. They were friends.

"Would you like to hold her, Harry?" Kathryn asked. His head jerked up, startled as Kathryn lowered the little bundle into his arms.

"Wh-what if I drop her?" he asked cradling the baby gingerly.

"You're doing fine," B'Elanna laughed. She reached for the baby's tiny hand and waved it at him. "Well Miral, say hello to your Uncle Harry."

Harry gave a little yelp. "Hey, she just smiled at me!" he exclaimed, simple joy spreading over his open face. Kathryn leaned in to see the baby's face screwed up in a toothless, drooling grin--adorable.

"It's most likely gas from being jostled here and there--passed around like a sack of leola root." The Doctor's acerbic voice came from behind them. He walked over to the bed monitors and studied them for a moment.

"Nope, it was definitely a smile," Harry protested. "A lovely, wonderful smile." He reached for the small, plush toy he'd brought and tucked it in next to her. "Miral, I'd like to introduce you to a very special targ--K'Halor."

"The Protector," Tom finished, translating the name of the Klingon "patron saint" of children and smiling at his friend fondly. He placed one hand on Harry's shoulder. An understanding seemed to pass between them.

"I see we're of one mind, Harry," Kathryn laughed, reaching into the bag and pulling out the small blanket she'd been working on for months. Along the boarder, tiny black targs and brown collie pups frolicked and chased each other.

"It's beautiful, Captain," B'Elanna whispered, her fingers tracing the patterns of bright primary colours.

"I'm glad you like it," Kathryn replied as the younger woman hugged her tightly. As Torres let go, she continued. "In a couple of days, I'll embroider 'Miral' in one corner, using whatever pattern you choose."

"Actually, Captain," Tom drawled. "It's Miral Kathryn Torres-Paris." Kathryn's eyes flew to his in wordless astonishment, then to B'Elanna's.

"If you don't mind, Captain," Torres said hesitantly.

This time the tears escaped her barriers before she could stop them and she wiped them with trembling fingers. Smiling through her tears, she reached out to squeeze B'Elanna's hand gently and offered her other hand to Tom. And as she looked down at their joined hands, in that moment she knew they were family.

"No, I don't mind," she answered hoarsely. "I'm very honoured."

"Congratulations Captain!" Admiral Owen Paris said smiling broadly as confetti and ticker-tape rained down. A brass band played the rolling flourishes of the Federation Anthem in the background. "You brought your ship home!"

Disoriented, Kathryn tried to leave her ship and push past the wall of bodies. Owen gave a low mocking chuckle, which the assembled admirals and Starfleet personnel echoed.

"You lost your crew, but you brought your ship home! Tell me, Kathryn, how did they all die? Where is my son? Where is my son, Kathryn?" Admiral Paris taunted. "Where is my granddaughter?"

Other voices took up the chant, rising to a roaring crescendo as they too demanded sons and daughters, friends and loved ones. It rolled over her like a tidal wave, smashing her on the rocks of despair.

Kathryn backed away from the horrible mocking faces--away from malevolent eyes that threatened to tear her apart. Her back hit something hard, immovable and she turned to face the dead, accusing eyes of her crew . . . Chakotay . . . Tuvok . . . Tom . . . B'Elanna . . . Harry . . . Kes . . . Lindsay Ballard . . . Joe Carey . . .

She tried to speak, but no sound came from her throat. She had no words to explain and as phantom hands tore at her clothes, her flesh, her soul, she screamed--

The scream died in her throat as she jolted awake, sitting bolt upright in her bed gasping for air. Great wracking sobs rocked her body and she wrapped her arms around herself as if to keep from flying apart. Tears coursed down her face. She wanted to scream. Instead, she curled up on her bed and bit down on her forearm. Her belly lurched in painful spasms, as though some giant hand was twisting her gut.

Her fingers clawed at the sheets, twisting them until the sensations passed and she could breathe again. Gradually her body quietened. Exhausted, she rolled on her back to watch the cold, alien stars of the delta quadrant through her viewport.

A muffled thump startled her and her eyes were drawn automatically to the wall between her bedroom and her neighbour's. Then . . . a soft indistinct voice. Chakotay. She wondered if he was alone.

She lay rigid for a few minutes, then rose, slipped out of her damp, clammy night-dress and pulled on her robe. Scrubbing away the tears that threatened again, she left the bedroom and went directly to the replicator. After ordering a cup of coffee, she curled up on the sofa, drew her mother's colourful afghan over her legs and returned to stargazing.

"--and we should have the burnt-out plasma relays replaced by fifteen hundred hours, Captain," Nicoletti reported to the senior staff the next morning. "Repairs to the starboard nacelle will take approximately two, possibly three weeks. Meanwhile, we're still studying how best to repair the armour. Given the volume of repairs still to be done, I'd like your permission to reassign personnel from other departments to those tasks that don't require specialised engineering training--like the diagnostics of the replacement plasma relays."

"Granted Lieutenant," Kathryn replied. She smiled; the younger woman had come a long way since her early days on Voyager when she'd been seen as a rather cold fish. She had taken her sudden promotion to second in command in Engineering in stride. And although Kathryn wished that Joe Carey were still alive, she had to admit that while B'Elanna was on maternity leave, Engineering was in good hands.

She turned to look down the left-hand side of the briefing room table. "Seven, since Astrometrics is up and running again with its usual efficiency, turn over the data collection to Icheb--Commander Chakotay, please oversee his work." She smiled apologetically to Chakotay and he nodded, adding the task to his already over-burdened schedule. "Seven, I want you to report to Lieutenant Nicoletti, give her whatever help she needs with the repairs."

Expecting the usual "Yes, Captain", Kathryn had turned back to speak to Nicoletti when Seven's voice interrupted.

"Captain, I believe that I can best serve the ship by continuing my work in Astrometrics," she said.

Kathryn turned slowly to face her annoyed that her protégé chose that moment to question her orders. Seven looked at her with a steady--superior--gaze, as if flexing some unseen power.

"You do?" Kathryn asked, eyes narrowing as she considered the younger woman thoughtfully. This was no time for power plays, but if that was what Seven wanted, that was what she would get.

The former Borg continued haughtily, oblivious to Janeway's annoyance. "Yes, the Midas Array will broadcast its next download to us--or rather the position it believes us to be--sometime within the next two weeks, between Stardates 55090.4 and 55128.8. I believe that if I can correlate and triangulate on the sub-space frequency of the broadcast, I can intercept the download and signal the Pathfinder Team to tune the array to our present position."

"I see," Janeway replied mildly. "And how far along are you with this project?"

"I've set up the search parameters and algorithms for scanning across the middle and lower sub-space bands," she answered smugly, and Kathryn realised that she was counting on the fact that her Captain wouldn't pull her from such an important task. "After this meeting, I will begin work on the upper sub-space bands correlated with the array's characteristic frequency."

The briefing room was silent when the Captain spoke again. Out of the corner of her eye, Kathryn saw an indefinable look ghost over Chakotay's face, before his placid mask covered it again. She didn't allow herself to dwell on what it might have meant.

"No," she said. Seven regarded her in shock. "After this meeting, you will report to Engineering and avail yourself to whatever Lieutenant Nicoletti requires of you. Do I make myself clear?"

Seven frowned and opened her mouth to protest.

"A few words of advice, Seven," Kathryn continued before she could make a sound. "The only acceptable response to a direct order is 'Yes, Captain.' Is that understood?"

"Yes, Captain," the former Borg rasped out harshly.

"Excellent." She turned her back on the glowering woman and addressed Harry. "Ensign Kim, once you've finished re-calibrating the main sensor grid, I'd like you to set up the astrometrics sensor parameters to scan the upper bands for Icheb and make sure he understands what we're attempting."

"Yes, Captain," Kim said smartly, consulting his PADD. "I can get to it by 11:00 hours."

"Good, and after you've finished in Astrometrics, report to Shield Maintenance. Lieutenant Anderson requested help co-ordinating the diagnostics of the shield grid."

"Aye, Captain," Kim replied, raising his head to spare her a smile before busily tapping away at his PADD again.

She smiled again at Nicoletti. "Lieutenant, why don't you send all the information on the damage to the ablative armour to my ready room computer and we'll see if the Captain is still any good at engineering."

"Yes, Captain," the young woman replied with a sudden smile that erased the stern lines of her normal demeanour. "Thank you."

"Well, if there's nothing else, dismissed." She watched them leave, Seven shouldering her way past Chakotay angrily. To anyone else, she was simply Seven being Seven. But Kathryn wondered if the young woman had expected her lover to jump to her defence. It hurt Kathryn that neither of them thought enough of her to tell her about their relationship --she'd had to find out from the Admiral.

She'd long been afraid that she couldn't give Chakotay the kind of relationship he wanted. Perhaps it wasn't in her to give; she realised now. Perhaps somewhere along the way she'd lost the capacity to give herself wholly to another without amputating the part of her that was the Captain--at least it felt that way in the wee hours when her demons rose. And last night there had been demons aplenty.

Kathryn stood and gathered up her PADDs. She couldn't afford to wallow in misery. Her officers' decisions were their own and whether or not she liked or approved of it, they were going to form relationships, have babies and get on with their lives the best they could. It seemed that everyone but her had accepted that quick fixes like Sikiran space-folders, warp 10 insta-travel, wormholes, slipstream and . . . and time-travelling Admirals with anti-Borg technology and transwarp conduits up her sleeves . . . would be few and far between. Voyager was destined to be a generational ship and her Captain would have to accept it--and deal with it all--the best way she knew how.

"Right this way, ladies," Tom Paris said as he guided B'Elanna through the door to their quarters. Torres lowered herself slowly onto the couch, cradling their daughter in her arms. Tom dropped the baby-bag the Captain had given them with the blanket.

"How are you?" he asked gently, removing her shoes and putting her feet up on the ottoman.

She smiled tiredly. "Sore, tired--glad to be home."

"I'll get dinner--" He started to rise, but she held him back.

"I'm not hungry right now," she said and he looked at her in surprise. She laughed. "I know, I know--it's a shock after months of me eating everything in sight, but the Doctor insisted I eat while we waited for you." Tom chuckled softly and kissed her on the cheek. "So how's my ship?"

Tom threw his head back and laughed harder. "And here I was thinking that Janeway was Captain. I should have known you had an ulterior motive for your impatience to leave sickbay," he quipped.

"I always have an ulterior motive for leaving sickbay," she replied, shifting Miral to a more comfortable position in her arms. "Seriously, how is everything--has Nicoletti got the engines put back together?"

Tom raised an eyebrow. "With the Captain looking over her shoulder--you bet!" he laughed. "Nicoletti might act half-Vulcan most of the time, but the woman has some sense of self-preservation. Janeway even drafted yours truly to oversee the diagnostics on the new plasma relays."

"Then I'd better get on the horn and have a proper engineer redo them," she groused.

"Hey!"

She laughed and snuggled closer to him, tucking her feet under her.

"Anyway," he continued quietly. "Marla Gilmore actually did all the real work--"

B'Elanna lifted her head from his shoulder to regard him closely. He quirked a roguish grin.

"The Captain pulled her from one of the bulkhead work crews. With Ron Carlson and Ombagi U'Lanai from Security, Bristow from Cartography, Mendez from Maintenance and Chell, I think Janeway figured she needed at least one properly trained engineer to make sure we were pointing the diagnostic tricorders at the correct bits of machinery. Not to mention helping me figure out which end of an interference-flux calibrator was which without looking like an idiot."

"But you're such an adorable idiot," she laughed, sitting up. He rose and helped her to stand. Following her into the bedroom, he watched her settle Miral into her crib. He reached in and tucked K'Halor the Targ in close to the baby as B'Elanna tucked a soft pink blanket around her.

"Where's the Captain's blanket?" he whispered.

"She came and got it today," B'Elanna replied leading him back into the living room. "She promised to get it back to us in a few days with 'Miral Kathryn' embroidered on it--she was so enthusiastic about it, although where she'll get the time for hand embroidery, I don't know."

"Tell me about it," he laughed as they settled on the couch again. "She's personally overseeing the ablative armour repair and already has teams scouring the system for asteroids containing useable ores--at least until we can get power systems up and running at peak capacity again. Plus she has to deal with everything else that's going on. I don't know how she does it."

Her voice was soft and gentle as she turned into him. "And I don't know how you do it--how you always know the right thing to do for other people." Tom felt privileged to be the one person who saw this side to her on a daily basis.

"Not always," he said regretfully.

"Perhaps not," she replied. "But it was very sweet of you to give Miral her name--I think she needed it just then."

He rubbed her shoulders thoughtfully. "I hope you don't mind that I didn't consult you first--there wasn't time--"

She pulled his head down to kiss him. "It was a perfect, wonderful gesture."

"You should have seen her, B'Elanna, when we ended up back in the delta quadrant again," he said. "And lately, she hasn't been getting much personal support from Chakotay. Tuvok's great, but let's face it--our logical Vulcan friend can only go so far. And there's something else in the mix, but I've been so caught up in our lives in the last few months, I'm not sure how long it's been going on--"

"How long what's been going on?" she demanded.

"First you have to promise me you won't fly off the handle."

She pulled away from him indignantly. "I do not fly off the handle!" she shouted and he gazed pointedly at her. B'Elanna puffed her cheeks and blew the air out noisily. "Alright, what do you mean he hasn't been supporting her--last time I looked, he was still her First Officer and best friend."

"But when was the last time you really talked to him, B'Elanna?" Tom asked.

"Lots of times--in fact, we talked a lot after Quarra," she said. "And I know that the Captain was a big part of why he was so frantic about getting the crew back."

"And within the couple of weeks we were gone she'd fallen in love with a complete stranger and moved in with him--was ready to marry him--"

"What?" B'Elanna stared at him incredulously. "How can you compare--she was brainwashed, Tom! Her entire identity stripped from her! Hell, I didn't even know who you were and I'm you wife! You're completely wrong! It's like blaming a rape victim for what was done to her. How can anyone--least of all Chakotay--possibly blame her for that? He cares about her."

"Yeah, and we both know how long he's cared for her," Paris said soberly. "And for years she's given him no encouragement that she might consider a relationship with him. So I think that he got tired of waiting for her--of waiting for something that would never happen--and moved on. On Quarra, I think that he saw Kathryn Janeway, the woman, completely free of Captain Janeway perhaps for just the second time in the seven years that we've known her and he knew that once she was back on Voyager--once she was Captain--he wouldn't see Kathryn again. Therefore, he cut his losses, because exactly the same thing happened the last time he saw Kathryn Janeway--after we rescued them from New Earth."

She settled back--unhappily--in his embrace, her face thoughtful as she considered her oldest friend on Voyager. "Alright, supposing I could see your point," she conceded. "What makes you so sure he's moved on?"

"Something Chell said today set off a few alarm bells regarding some other things I've noticed lately, but hadn't paid that much attention to. All the pieces of the puzzle just sort of fell into place," he replied.

And something about the impatient look in her eyes told him that he'd better get to the point before he ended up on the couch that night.

"A couple of weeks ago, just before we ran into the Borg nebula for the first time, I met Chakotay in the turbolift outside of cargo bay one. He smelled of potato chips and cherry cola--and I should know--I programmed them into the replicator myself. Anyway, today Chell was joking with Mendez about getting his picnic basket back from Seven of Nine, so that they would have something to carry the engineering tools in."

B'Elanna's eyes widened with disbelief as she realised what he was leading up to.

"Apparently, she's been brushing up on social skills of a more personal nature," Tom quipped, "and they were speculating about which lucky man got to share her chips, cherry cola and sandwiches."

"You've got to be kidding me," B'Elanna growled in a low, dangerous voice. "Not Seven!"

He shook his head. "And then there's the fact that I caught Doc studying Seven's cortical implant at around the same time--more specifically, studying the deactivation of the failsafe circuitry that governs her emotional balance so that she can safely experience a wider range of emotional states. Then there was the way Admiral Janeway reacted to both Seven and Chakotay--I'm not sure, but I think she said something to them and probably to Captain Janeway as well. Finally, there's the way Chakotay and Seven have been acting lately. He seems awfully fond of Astrometrics all of a sudden and a lot less fond of the Captain's company. Furthermore, given the way Seven acted at this morning's briefing--lets just say that 'smug' doesn't even begin to cover it."

B'Elanna gaped at him. "What do you mean?"

"The Captain ordered her to turn the astrometric scanning over to Icheb and report to Engineering--after all, personnel from every department not involved with essential systems was helping out with repairs. But Seven, being Seven, felt that her work was too important to interrupt and felt it necessary to point out to Janeway just how important that work was," he said, grinning as he cut off her intended protest. "I know, I know, everyone's used to Seven's insubordination, but today there was a little something extra going on--the proprietary way she looked at Chakotay, the smugness dripping from her insubordination. It wasn't our ex-Borg automaton stating the bald facts about her superior astro-cartography skills, it was more like watching a sixteen-year-old tell another sixteen-year-old to keep her mitts off her man--except--"

"Except Janeway's no teenager and he was her man long before we'd even heard of Seven of Bloody Nine!" B'Elanna finished savagely.

Paris grinned. "Worse," he said, surprising her again. "Except Janeway's the Captain and the only acceptable response to her orders is 'Yes, Captain.' Looking back now, I think that Seven was counting on Chakotay loyalty--counting on him to intervene on her behalf so she could get her own way while rubbing Janeway's face in the fact that he was hers now. And when it didn't come off, boy was she ever pissed!"

"Damn!" B'Elanna muttered. "How far do you think it's gone?"

"I don't know," he replied, all traces of amusement gone now, "far enough that Seven feels possessive towards him, but exactly how far that is for him?" He shrugged. "A couple of dates, maybe more--"

"Bed?"

"Possibly," he acknowledged. "I haven't been paying attention long enough to gauge."

"Damn," she repeated softly.

Chakotay stood on the threshold of Astrometrics watching Seven as she moved briskly between consoles, entering commands. She could hardly fail to notice he was standing there, but she continued to ignore him.

Finally, he stepped further into the room and allowed the doors to close behind him. "I thought we had a dinner date scheduled at 1900 hours," he said quietly.

"I have work to do," she replied, without a hint of apology for standing him up. She'd refused to answer his hails. Finally, after half an hour of waiting, he'd gone looking for her, wondering what the hell was wrong now. It had taken time to persuade her that the Admiral's version of the future needn't come to pass and he had a feeling her actions now stemmed from more of the same insecurity.

Damn Kathryn Janeway anyway--past, present and future!

"It's usually polite to let the other party know when you can't make an appointment," he said placidly. "And by my reckoning, you've been off-duty for the last three hours."

She continued her tasks without stopping to make eye contact. "I would have gone off-duty as scheduled if Captain Janeway had not allowed Icheb to run these scans. Already, I have found two errors in his performance of the sensor sweeps. He simply does not have the analytical skills required."

"So you found two mistakes in three hours," Chakotay mused studying her. "I guess we'll just have to string him up from the yard-arm," he chuckled.

She deigned to stop and look at him, her lips thinning in disapproval. "I don't see anything about the situation that warrants your amusement. If you had supported my position this morning, this would not have happened!"

"No," he said quietly. "If I'd supported your position, I would have been wrong. The Captain has every right to reassign you as she sees fit. She has the right to reassign any crewmember where she feels they can be most useful and in this instance she was entirely correct. You're helping to get the warp engines back up to capacity and Icheb is learning new skills performing some very valuable scans."

"Scans he performed inadequately!" she snapped, banging her hands on the console, before turning to climb the steps to the platform in front the massive holographic viewscreen.

Chakotay stared at her in shock before following her to the computer interface to the left side of the viewer while she continued her tirade.

"And while he is learning, this ship may well miss the only opportunity to re-establish contact with the alpha quadrant. If we miss the broadcast by even 30 light minutes, we might as well miss it by 30,000 light years. Or perhaps that is what the Captain wants!"

"I think you know better than that, Seven," he replied, catching her arm and turning her to face him. "What is this really about?"

The young woman looked away and Chakotay saw a single tear slide past her defences. "The Captain--" Seven began softly.

"She has nothing to do with us, Seven," he said, wiping the tear away with his thumb. "She's a friend and a colleague--nothing more. It's all she's ever asked from me and unless I'm mistaken, she has always been your friend as well."

"But there was a time when you wanted more from her," she said, staring past his shoulder and refusing to look him in the eye. "You wanted to explore a relationship with her."

"Yes, and now I want more from you," he answered, drawing her close to him. "I want to explore a relationship with you, Seven of Nine. Was I mistaken? What do you want?"

He felt the tension leave her shoulders. "No, you were not mistaken, I do want to explore this relationship with you," she said, smiling brightly through her tears as she turned her face up to him. His lips hovered millimetres from hers and he allowed her to reach up and initiate the kiss.

Her lips were soft and lush; he pulled her closer.

And lost in the sensations of kissing her, he didn't hear the astrometrics doors close once more behind him. Indeed, he'd never even heard them open.

#

Part 2

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