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It feels strange, having the hum of the ship’s engines back beneath her feet. Not unwelcome, but she’d only just gotten used to having solid ground beneath her instead of the constant thrumming and other white noise of the ship. The sounds of a planet are a far cry from the sounds of a ship afterall, the cacophony of bugs and animals - not to mention the rain storms. New Earth had been a haven for all of it, a practical paradise compared to the metal interiors of a starship. Kathryn had made a defeated sense of peace on that planet that she would never see Voyager or it’s crew again, relying on the fact that they’d get themselves home. It would be she and Chakotay for the rest of their lives.
And perhaps some part of her had been okay with that. Content. Happy, even, for a few fleeting moments. She’d been close to setting her research aside for a cure in favor of trying to build some sort of life there - something long term. Kathryn had made the decision to catalog everything she could about the planet, it’s lifeforms and weather patterns and constellations; a legacy of journals and logs that would perhaps help someone in the future once she and Chakotay were long turned to dust. A cure could eventually happen, but perhaps she didn’t need to put all her focus on it, given that they’d never be able to catch up with Voyager if they could escape the planet. Eventually another ship might pass by and catch their lifeforms, but there was no holding out hope there either - much less that they’d be friendly.
And now, in what feels like no time at all, she’s back on Voyager . Her crew had returned for them, disobeyed her orders - and while she’s slightly annoyed at the disobedience, there is a large part of her relieved they’d come back for them, cure in hand.
Why does a small part of her feel disappointed?
Dinner between them feels familiar, but there is something else too. Some invisible emotion that she can’t place. As they sip at cups of coffee after clearing away dessert, Kathryn feels like a lump has formed in the back of her throat. They don’t have the luxury of New Earth anymore. They’re back to fighting for their lives, their crew’s lives. Determined to get them home.
And she still cannot get that angry warrior story out of her mind. She thinks it might plague her for the rest of her life. She hadn’t understood for a few days afterward why part of it didn’t sit well with her. She understands now, though - the ending. The ending had been disjointed. Like it didn’t belong. She hasn’t outright asked him about it, but she assumes that somewhere along the line that story has been altered - or was done so on the spot, in that very moment on New Earth when he’d been telling her without telling her.
“We need to talk.” She says suddenly, shattering the silence. And the way he looks at her makes her regret it almost immediately.
“About?” He courageously presses, and Kathryn sets her cup of coffee down.
“Us.”
She watches him carefully set his coffee down as well. She can’t clock the emotion he tries swiftly to hide in his face, instead schooling his features more neutral. Professional. Ready to discuss as Captain and Commander, not Kathryn and Chakotay. Kathryn falters half a second, trying to gather her courage. She wishes perhaps they’d chosen wine for dinner instead.
“I know we . . . talked. Before. On New Earth.” She begins. It feels ridiculous to be as afraid as she is. It’s not a rational fear that overwhelms her, but something else. A vulnerability that she rarely, if ever, affords herself while she wears the Captain’s uniform. Because it is a weakness here in the Delta Quadrant. A dangerous weakness. On New Earth it had been . . . well, it had almost been. She’d almost let that barrier fall. Now she felt like she was trying to scurry and put the pieces back into place before they shattered and collapsed again.
“After I lost Justin, I never expected to feel what I felt for him with another man. And I didn’t, not even with Mark. I could accept that. Love doesn’t have to be an overwhelming force of nature to be worth building a life around. But then I met you.” And as she looks at him, she’s instantly thrown back into the moments of New Earth, his hand in hers, his own story. Hers is not nearly so elegantly put, but she’s always been more straightforward about things. Worried it might be misinterpreted if she pretends otherwise.
“Chakotay - the way you make me feel . . . the things that move in me when I let myself imagine everything we could have . . . it isn’t a safe love . . . a love I can control. It’s the other kind. It’s what I had with Justin. I lost that once. It wasn’t my fault, and it still almost destroyed me. That’s what I’d be risking, for a soft place to rest my head at night.”
To his credit, his expression doesn’t waver. Not even a shred of disappointment like she expects - but he’s holding it in for her benefit, she can assume. Always for her benefit. He’d never hurt her, in any lifetime. Emotionally or otherwise. And yet what she’s doing now feels like she’s tearing out her own heart. Being on New Earth had made her come to terms with a grand many things and even as they adjust to being back in their command structure, those thoughts haven’t left her mind.
And if had doubted she could ever care for him in return, doubted she loved him - well, cat’s out of the bag now.
“And I can’t risk it. Not while I’m trying to get us home.”
Before her gaze finds her coffee mug again, his hand comes across the table to capture hers. Not in desperation, but in what she feels is a gesture of comfort as his thumb brushes the back of her knuckles. Always a balm to her soul, his presence, his warmth, his kindness. It’s why she has to set him free, why she must prioritize his happiness over her own. He’s too busy ensuring hers to ever really worry about his. Kathryn sees the future before them, seventy years of fighting and clawing their way back to the Alpha Quadrant. It will be incredibly difficult and there will be more losses, but there is hope to be found. As she’d once deduced, everyone would start to pair up. Establish connection where they can, find their own happiness in the desolate space of this far away hell. She cannot withhold that from Chakotay. He deserves better.
“I’m not selfish enough to give you ideas, Chakotay. To give you hope. Seventy some odd years is a long time to be alone and you deserve the freedom. This isn’t - as much as I want to, I can’t give you that relationship. I can’t commit to that risk.”
When she looks up at him, to her surprise, he looks almost amused .
“I would never ask you to risk that, Kathryn.” He says gently. Understanding in a way she’s come to always expect of him. It’s assuring in every instance - except now. “But I disagree - you give me hope everyday. On that fact that you will get us home, that we will survive whatever the quadrant throws at us. You give this entire ship hope in the absolute darkest of times. It’s one of many things I admire about you.”
“You know that isn’t what I mean.” Kathryn protests lightly and he shakes his head.
“No - but I do. You’re going to get us home. Whether it be now, or seventy years in the future when we’re all old and grey. And when that time comes, perhaps you and I might explore where our feelings lead us. When it’s safer for such a love.”
“Chakotay, you’re not going to be alone all this time -”
“I won’t. I’m committed to my role as your Commander.” He shrugs as if it’s the simplest answer in the entire world. Kathryn feels every possible response leave her mind as he has somehow wholly derailed the conversation she had planned in her head. It’s equally endearing and infuriating, if she’s honest. For a long moment she doesn’t even know what to say or how to respond. She shouldn’t be surprised as she is, especially given their conversations on New Earth. Everything feels fragile and delicate between them, but with one fell swoop he’s managed to make her reconsider everything. Again.
“Being a Commander doesn’t mean being celibate.” Kathryn remarks frankly and he has the audacity to laugh. Frustration builds in her; she’s trying to set him free, to let him move on the way he should. Even if it’s shattering her. Her words had been truthful; the love she feels with him is too powerful, too unstable. In this quadrant she cannot risk it when there are too many relying on her. She cannot trust her instincts to keep her unbiased. It’s terrifying and she’d once admitted such to Justin, not long before they’d been engaged. Kathryn had loved him so fiercely and so boldly and in her foolishness, assumed it meant they were untouchable.
And then it’d gone down in flames. She’d understood how broken hearts could kill. She’d wished her own would put her out of her misery in the aftermath because it would be preferable to the physical and mental anguish Kathryn had been buried in.
With Chakotay, she cannot afford to be back in that darkness again if something were to happen. If she let herself love him freely as he so deserved, she knows without hesitation she would make different decisions, trying to keep him safe. Selfishly. It would cause issues and dangers and with so many lives in her hands, Kathryn cannot let herself become that. For that danger, she must let him go.
“I have no right to ask you to wait.” Kathryn presses on. Determined to have this conversation so she can be done with it. Mourn in private, the loss of what could be the greatest love of her life, hate herself for being so committed to her morals. Chakotay isn’t making it easy. She wants to languish in her bed over her decisions, and he seems determined to otherwise disallow that to happen.
“And you’re not. I’m making my decision to wait of my own accord.” He offers that charming smile again and Kathryn squeezes his hand, feeling equally elated and guilty, a strange and almost sickening combination. It shouldn’t be surprising how readily he had thrown his cards where he had, but a large part of her worries that he will be waiting for too long. That there will be chances missed because he still holds some sort of candle for her that she can’t return until she sees this mission through. It’s a weird dichotomy churning in her belly. Now she definitely wishes they’d been having wine.
“Chakotay, you’re being ridiculous. We could very well be on our deathbeds of old age by the time we get back.”
“And what if? We’ll still have grown old and gray together.”
Kathryn feels a lump rising in the back of her throat that takes every ounce of her self control to swallow back down. New Earth had been a realization, a shared moment between them that couldn’t be returned. And perhaps if Voyager had been a few weeks or months later, they’d have agreed to try things romantically outside the parameters of the command structure. Part of her is grateful it hadn’t happened - because trying to go back after that barrier was crossed would destroy her, just as much as if she’d lost him. Just as she’d lost Justin.
She doesn’t think her heart will take it. Not again.
“I can’t make you change your mind.” Kathryn says after a moment; it’s an observation, not a question, her voice low. Chakotay only offers that damned smile again and if it were any other situation she might have kissed it right off his face. But they stay apart, separated by the safety of the table, a couple of PADDS, and two cups of tepid coffee.
“But if I tend to encourage things that might hurry us home,” Chakotay adds suddenly, reaching for his coffee. “Don’t judge me too much.”
Kathryn laughs, the spell between them broken for the moment and the conversation shifts, falling into familiar and comfortable patterns. She can’t pretend she doesn’t feel something for him, especially since New Earth - but she has a promise to her crew. She cannot allow herself the privilege of happiness when she’s the reason her crew is stranded here.
Eventually she knows this will be a generational ship, that Chakotay could very well be waiting for the rest of their lives - which eats at her with a nasty, dark guilt. There are any number of lovely women on the ship she’s certain he could find a long term relationship with, someone to make him happy. But she fears even broaching the subject again, how firm his answer had been. She doesn’t want to cause a fight - or should she? If he hates her or she pesters him enough, he might be encouraged to find someone else to bestow his love. It would kill her in the end, but she must prioritize others before herself. One of many sacrifices made by Captains in such situations.
The worries she has about their relationship, were they to enter one, already exist in some capacity. Already she cannot imagine a day without him. Isn’t that what a relationship is, boiled down to it? How can she possibly run a ship when her second in command would be in her bed - how can she make unbiased decisions? She doesn’t trust herself is the unfortunate truth. And it might break her if she has to lose him to everything else the quadrant has already taken from them. They spend most of their free time together, fight about who is going to throw themselves into danger first - it’s the skeleton of a relationship hidden beneath the structure of command, and Kathryn worries if she dares give in, she’ll have her heart broken. It would be one thing to lose him as a commander. It’s another to lose him as a lover, as something more.
But as they fall into other discussions and she watches him talk animatedly about something they’d discovered, she feels her heart lurch into her throat.
She knows her own answer. Without even thinking about it.
She’ll wait for him, too.
—
The quiet is overwhelming, the desolation that comes with the silence of the bridge. She should be happy, elated even - they are home. After seven years struggling and fighting and clawing their way back to Federation space, to see Earth through the view screen had been an absolute moment of joy. Relief. She had felt it ripple through the ship with the announcement, the realization that they were no longer stranded or lost.
Starfleet had made their spectacle, the hero's welcome home. There's a celebratory dinner in a little over an hour with the crew, their families, and upper brass - and tomorrow the real work begins. Hours of testimonies and debriefings and all the politics that comes with Starfleet. She's going to get dragged across the rug until she's ripped open and raw, forced to relive every crew loss, every decision she has to make to keep them alive. She won't regret them, but the emotional toil will be difficult. Not to mention how much she already expects to have to fight to keep the entire Maquis half of her crew from being arrested. Starfleet is playing nice for tonight, but tomorrow will be a brand new fight.
She's so tired of fighting.
But, she won't stop.
She cannot.
For this family they've forged, their trauma bonding them deeper than anything else over the course of the past seven years.
Kathryn will fight tooth and nail for them, until the ends of the universe - while they have hit home soil, her work is not done. Perhaps it will never be done, her life sworn to Starfleet the way it is. It's the life she signed up for - sort of. To explore, to seek out new life. Not to fight bullshit bureaucracy. It's one part of being home she hasn't missed, the politics that comes with serving the Federation. She has tried hard to uphold the rules and regulations but there are just some things that don't apply to the Delta Quadrant. Quite a few things.
While the ship hasn't been shut off entirely, it is still and quiet and calm. The crew have disembarked to secure housing to continue the reunion with their families and friends and prepare for the event that evening. Tomorrow, engineers will start pulling apart the modifications made to Voyager in the pursuit of survival. Stripping her home down to its bulkheads. It'll be retired of course, or refit into a ship that isn't Voyager at all - nothing ever will be. Not even close. It already breaks her to know this is the last time she will stand on the bridge of Voyager as it is, as it has been. Home.
It's why she cannot bring herself to leave just yet.
With no warp engines, no major systems running, the only sound is the soft and idle hum. She can barely feel it through the floor, another reminder she is on solid ground. Her fingers brush against the arm of the captain’s chair; it isn’t that she’s stubborn on letting it go, but it’s the memories this ship holds for her that make her linger. She isn’t in a hurry to join the festivities (her mother and Phoebe won’t be in the city until tomorrow) so Kathryn finds herself consoled by the familiar atmosphere while she still can. She’s already said her goodbyes to the ship and knows she’ll have to get up, put on a smile, and saunter down the gangplank to be transported to the party soon. But not yet.
Leaving this bridge feels like leaving a whole other life behind.
“I thought I might find you here.”
Chakotay’s soft voice isn’t a total surprise; not here on the bridge. Not at first. Kathryn looks up - she hadn’t heard the turbolift but there he is, stepping onto the bridge. For the last time, too. She wonders briefly if he’s here of his own accord or had intentions of seeking her out, but either way it’s a sight she sears into her memory for the last time.
“Just doing a final round.” Kathryn remarks lowly as he crosses to sit in his usual place at her side. Captain and Commander. There’s something in the air she can’t quite put her finger on - a melancholy sadness, perhaps. That an era is at an end. For all the hell of the Delta Quadrant, they’ve survived because of each other. Blood, sweat, and tears between them have gotten their crew home, fulfilled a promise seven years in the making. Frankly she doesn’t think she could’ve done this without him. Neelix had once likened them to the head and the heart of a person, guiding and leading in tandem - though she had never asked which one of them was which.
God, it’ll be so strange without them all.
Not that Kathryn won’t have another crew. She suspects if she survives being raked across the coals in front of the brass, they might give her another command. It won’t be the same of course, and she wonders if she’d even accept the command of another ship. The idea of being grounded for a while sounds awful nice.
“Going for a ‘fashionably late’ entrance to the party?” Chakotay inquires with his usual soft teasing, and Kathryn chuckles.
“Does it count as late if I don’t show up at all?”
He frowns; she can practically hear it without looking at him.
“You don’t want to go?”
“No - I mean, I do. Partly. I don’t know when we’ll all be together in the same room again.” She sinks further into her captain’s chair, fingers drumming out a silent rhythm as she studies the viewscreen and it’s vista of earth beyond. Fireworks had painted the sky earlier but now it's merely stars against the only blackness, though the lights bleeding in from the city make it difficult to make out most of them.
“I’m sure no one would blame you if you left early.” He offers.
“Are you making excuses for me?” Kathryn tilts her head, smiling faintly. Chakotay looks like he might admit to such a tactic, but he only gives that charming smile as he meets her gaze. Her heart does a bit of a skip in her chest without warning, a delicate warmth that blooms into her lungs and seizes her for half a second.
In the dim lighting, he looks the same as always. Her number one, the partner she’s come to rely upon and trust above anyone else. His rugged handsomeness is still there, though perhaps there’s a fletch of grey in that hair of his (and frankly Kathryn expects she has a few silver hairs of her own these days). She’s always admired him, both professionally and personally. His generosity, his fierceness, every facet of him is carefully polished. Even beneath that surface of gentleness there are sharp edges that linger, pushing through when he or his crew are threatened. Or her.
No, she would not have made it through the Delta Quadrant with him. As a partner, as a friend. She’s the luckiest woman in the damned galaxy with his unwavering loyalty and constant support and sometimes, Kathryn wonders what she could’ve done to deserve it. She dreads the start of tomorrow when he'll be questioned and interrogated as her commander, as a Maquis.
Beyond that, she’s felt the innate draw between them since the second they’d met. Seven years ago she chased this man into the Badlands with the intentions of arresting him and his entire crew. Now . . . now she’ll do whatever it takes to keep them out of prison and ensure they’re all promoted. More, if they needed. Her crew has spent years making sacrifices - she won’t let them anymore.
Not that she hasn’t also made sacrifices - but it’s expected, as Captain. She is the one who carries the blood on her hands. She’s long since held the belief that command all wear red because it helps hide the blood stains of those sacrifices and crew losses - and serves as a heavy and constant reminder, suffocating each and every Captain.
Kathryn instinctively reaches over to touch Chakotay’s arm in a familiar gesture, meeting his gaze with a soft smile.
Nothing’s changed - except, it has. Everything has changed.
“I can come up with some cover for you.” He speaks again and she shakes her head, sighing. Their hands drop as she forces herself to her feet, him half a second later. Still, she remains rooted to the floor. Unwilling to yield.
“Not this time. I’ll go. There’s just . . . things on my mind I need to tend to.”
“Anything I can help with?”
Always eager to ease her burdens; some things will never truly change.
“Maybe.”
Something in the air between them shifts, as if they both know the topic rising to the surface. It hasn’t been seventy years as expected, but it’s been seven. Long ones, too. But they’re home.
He’s waited.
They’ve waited.
And like fighting, Kathryn is so weary of it.
“I knew you’d get us home in the end.” Chakotay hums quietly. “Looks like all our hope wasn’t misplaced after all.”
“Perhaps not.” She remarks in a low voice. “Sooner rather than later, too.”
She cannot think of the Admiral, the timeline she was desperately trying to avoid from occurring. The future is theirs to write and rewrite and form in spite of the future presented to them by the Admiral and her retellings. A clean slate. Empty and waiting for the pages to be written. The ones of Voyager in the Delta Quadrant have come to a close and even with the veritable hell laid out politically before them with Starfleet brass, the fact remains the same.
They’re home.
Unofficially-officially, he’s no longer under her command. There is not a crew relying on them to fight the horrors of the quadrant and get them back to their loved ones. Even standing on the bridge as they are now, the Captain and Commander are gone, the armor removed. Dismantled the same way Voyager herself will be soon enough. What remains is Kathryn and Chakotay and those feelings roar to the surface again, the ones she’s tried to ignore for seven years. The ones she’d nearly tempted at New Earth. It leaves her throat dry and her face warm and she wonders briefly, perhaps, if Chakotay has changed his mind or not.
Their conversation seems ages ago, now. The air between them feels heavy still, the near silence of the ship almost overwhelming. They've been here before, too many times, but perhaps not this close. Staring, silent. A thousand decisions running through them both. His hand comes up to touch her arm and it seems to snap the reality around them, shattering whatever barrier might have been left.
After that, she isn't sure which of them moves first. Perhaps they both do, their usual tendency to react without words. Her fingers tangle in his uniform collar to pull him to her as his other hand cards into her hair - the destination is the same for both of them in the end.
His mouth against her own in a kiss that could send her straight into orbit. She's imagined it, kissing Chakotay, but the reality is something Kathryn couldn't predict. He's gentle, but restrained as if he still worries she might change her mind. Fat damn chance. Her hands crawl up his neck to cradle his face, lips parting to allow him full advantage - which he thankfully takes, deepening the kiss until her lungs ache. The same warmth as before washes over her, pooling in her belly. Seven years in the making, and Kathryn feels gratified in a way that her fears had been true. If she'd relented to him before, there'd be no going back. Now she doesn't have to worry about it, and is suddenly very keen and eager to find out where this love might take them.
It's always been love. Nothing else. The dangerous, risky type - and with no immediate consequences awaiting her, Kathryn intends to take full advantage of the situation. Seems to her Chakotay does too.
The rest of the world fades away as she presses against him, his hand curling into her hair while the other settles at her waist, holding her tight. She tilts her head enough to drag in a hefty lung full of air, feeling halfway intoxicated by Chakotay’s mere presence. She takes half a step back, pulling him with her. The back of her legs hit the Captain's chair and she nearly falls back into it - he's there to catch her (as he always has been), chuckling faintly against her lips as he keeps her upright. She has the briefest idea of throwing him in it and ravishing him right there on the bridge with as long as she's waited for this, but last thing she needs is someone walking in on them.
The reality of being able to kiss him, to be free to love him - she’s transported back to New Earth, the moments between them outside of command. Building a life together. She wants it so desperately with a sudden aching need . Building a life with Chakotay here on this Earth had been a far off dream - now faced with the reality, Kathryn is nearly overwhelmed with the possibility. No matter what happens tomorrow or in the days after - they’ve survived the Delta Quadrant, they can survive anything. A blossom of hope seeds itself in her chest and in the back of her mind she wonders if it’s the same feeling her crew held these past years, holding faith their Captain would see them through.
And maybe it’s foolish that she hopes this now for a man of all things, but Chakotay is so much more.
There’s no feverish kissing between them as she’d expected, having waited so long. It’s a warmth and love that is almost lazy in nature - and perhaps it’s because they’ve spent so long simmering in their emotions that they’re instinctively exploring things slowly. It will take her time to adjust to this sort of relationship, but God does she want it. He presses soft kisses against her jawline, dipping to the column of her throat. There will be time for further exploring later, she knows. And maybe a delayed, frenzied, desperate need to be with one another. Both, if they leave the dinner event early.
Provided they ever show.
He releases the arm at her waist enough for her to drop the rest of the way into the Captain’s chair. She doesn’t know what she expects, but it’s not for him to drop to his knees before her. Kathryn sits up properly to cradle his face in her hands, searching his gaze with a half smile curling at the edges of her lips. His expression is one that’s mixed - adoration and something else she can’t quite place. Happiness, perhaps. That damn dimpled smile.
“Worth the wait.” He murmurs suddenly and it’s her turn to laugh, low and throaty, before she ducks her head to kiss him again. Soft, gentle, no hurriedness to it. His nose brushes against hers and his hands tighten on either of her thighs - whether a warning or a promise, Kathryn is half delighted to find out.
“Is this your attempt at an excuse for me to miss the dinner party?” She asks with the raise of a brow when she draws away. His eyes darken briefly in a way that makes her breath catch in the back of her throat.
“Is it working?”
“Incredibly well, I’d say.” Kathryn hums, and for good measure claims his mouth again. Mostly because she can . Because she’s finally allowing herself this luxury, to feel these emotions. Chakotay seems all too happy to oblige, his nose brushing against her own when they part. He doesn’t seem eager to put any distance between them, nuzzling into the crook of her neck with a few more soft kisses to her skin. She squirms beneath him, his touch, dragging his mouth back to her own once she’s had a brief moment to catch her breath.
The chirp of a communicator shatters their encounter and Kathryn has never wanted to launch a device into the sun more than she does now. It’s Chakotay’s surprisingly, not her own; he half groans - but Kathryn beats him to slapping it to answer.
“What?” She all but snaps, probably more fiercely than she means. There’s a silence that seems to stretch eons.
“ Uh, Captain ?” It’s Tom Paris. Chakotay shakes with laughter he’s trying to surprise.
“Yes, Tom?” Chakotay offers after a moment. “What is it?”
Again, the length of silence is nearly unbearable. Kathryn can only assume they’re connecting dots in every which way.
“ Just - seeing if you had convinced the Captain to join us ?” Tom finally ventures. Kathryn arches a brow at Chakotay, who squeezes her thigh again.
“We’ll be right there.”