Disclaimer: These characters belong to Paramount. I’m just playing with them!

Here There Be Dragons: Part 7

by Mizvoy

“Splitting wood?” Kathryn repeated, her eyes losing focus as she looked past Tom’s shoulder into the distance. Her irritation with Chakotay for missing the reception evaporated like steam. “But it’s so cold.”

The Republic’s State Department had surprised the three Starfleet ships with a reception that Kathryn had had no choice but to attend. There had been a cocktail hour, a seven-course dinner, and then speeches and awards that seemed to go on forever. Kathryn had become more and more restless as time passed and had finally confronted Tom Paris about Chakotay’s whereabouts.

“It was beautiful earlier today, almost like summer before the front came through. He had a stack of wood big enough for three winters, if you ask me,” Tom continued, noticing how she suddenly grew quiet and hoping it was a good sign. “He seemed almost obsessed by the job. Maybe he knew the cold weather was closing in.”

The region was prone to violent thunderstorms, especially during the months between the summer and winter season. As Essex had arrived at the station, Kathryn had contacted the weathernet and seen on radar the huge bank of angry clouds that had obliterated her view of the capital city and of the hills south of the city where their house was located. According to the locals, the temperatures had dropped from a late summer record high to nearly freezing in less than an hour.

“I love a fireplace,” she sighed, pulling her sweater around her. “It makes a house homier, don’t you think?”

A similar brutal storm the previous spring had brought about the addition of a stone fireplace to Chakotay’s house. High winds had blown down several trees along the creek, and Kathryn had suggested “recycling” the wood by burning it in a cozy new fireplace.

“Let me guess,” Chakotay had laughed, “I get to split the wood. And I also get to build the fireplace.”

“I’ll help,” she’d protested as she’d given him an excited hug. “And then, next winter, when we’re cuddling in front of the fire, I’ll think up special ways to reward you for all your hard work.”

He had been charmed with her enthusiasm and had thrown himself into the project. Their trips to the surrounding hills to find rock for the chimney and the two weeks they’d spent tearing out a wall and replacing it with the hearth had been the happiest moments of their life together. In fact, she realized, she couldn’t imagine how anyone could be happier than they had been as they worked on improving their home.

“You know, Kathryn,” Tom said, bringing her back to the present, “I’m sure everyone here would understand if you decided to call it a night. You’ve been away for nearly three months.”

“I don’t have any transportation,” she said, embarrassed to admit that she had assumed Chakotay would take care of such details.

Tom’s face lit up. “I bet the Essex would beam you over there. Using their transporter would save you a lot of time and aggravation.”

She agreed and began to make her excuses, thanking the Repubic’s diplomats for their generous celebration and promising the Starfleet crew that she’d be back soon. She arranged to beam onto the Essex and retrieve a few belongings before she materialized on the cold and rain spattered front porch of Chakotay’s house. Everything was dark and silent. Chakotay hadn’t even waited up for her, she realized with a sense of alarm.

She let herself into the house and quickly toured the rooms, discovering that it was deserted and cold. She walked to the back of the house and let herself onto the screened porch. The freshly chopped wood was stacked in rows three deep along the fence. She realized that Tom hadn’t been kidding about three winters’ worth of wood. Then she noticed that the ground around the woodpile was scarred with mud and footprints. Chakotay must have finished the job during the driving rain.

Her eyes moved to the small cabin at the bottom of the hill. He always cleaned up down there when he was too filthy “for civilization,” as he put it. She decided that he must have gone there for a hot shower and then decided not to brave the cold for a trip back up the hill.

Kathryn rifled through her bag for the PADD she wanted to share with him, grabbed one of Chakotay’s warm jackets from the peg by the back door, and headed down the hill, following the white rock of the pathway that seemed to glow in the half-light of the moon. It was pure joy and relief for her to be off of space ships and space stations for the first time in weeks. She admired the beautiful clouds and breathed in the crisp air as she walked, the only sound the crunch of the rock beneath her feet. She could see her breath in front of her like white puffs of smoke and relished the lingering aroma of Chakotay’s cologne in the jacket collar as she hunched into its warmth.

The cologne brought with it an aching loneliness she had repressed for too long, and she began to realize just how much she’d missed his company. However, her main concern was Chakotay’s state of mind. He had called her less frequently in the recent weeks, blaming it on his inability to track her down as she traveled about in the Stengilli sector, and she had often let three or four days pass before she had contacted him. Yet he had never chastised her for neglecting him, a behavior she found strangely unsettling. It was almost as if he had expected her to forget him.

She stopped in her tracks, fingering the PADD in her pocket. She knew without doubt that he had expected her to forget him, to put him second or third in her priorities, and she realized, with a feeling of despair, that she had done just that. No wonder he hadn’t come to meet the Essex.

She lifted her head and resumed her walk toward the small cabin, her pace much slower and her mood more pensive. As she had become more and more preoccupied with her work, Chakotay must have thought she’d reverted to her former self. Her withdrawal must have made him think that she’d decided to go through the doctor’s memory-restoring procedure and maybe even to accept Tuvok’s offer to assume command of the small fleet. And she had been too distracted, too selfish, and too damned blind to see things from his perspective.

A deep, threatening growl brought her to a halt a second time. Suddenly afraid, she realized that she had come out after dark, in late fall, without a phaser. Chakotay had warned her about the dangerous packs of tosavou that roamed the hills during their fall mating season. As massive and as powerful as grizzlies, the males emerged in packs at sunset to hunt for food to sustain them in their relentless quest for a mate. She measured the distance to the small cabin in despair. Too far. And much too far to run back up the hill to the house.

She sensed more than saw the shadow moving in the darkness to her right, but before she could drop into a defensive huddle, the shaggy beast was upon her. She screamed as it launched itself at her, batting at her with a paw the size of her head and knocking her up into the air and backwards onto the rocks of the pathway. She landed heavily, too stunned by the blow to move, and felt the tosavou place one of its huge paws upon her chest to squeeze the air out of her lungs, its fetid, hot breath on her face as it opened its dripping mouth to rip out her throat.

She closed her eyes and hoped for a mercifully quick death when she heard another scream from farther down the hill. She hoped it was a second tosavou coming to challenge its pack mate over the kill. Perhaps they would fight each other and give her a chance escape or find something to use as a weapon. Momentarily distracted from his prey, the beast lessened the pressure on her chest and lifted its head to look for the source of the scream. Kathryn was about to push the beast off when events seemed to shift to slow motion.

The tosavou’s head seemed to detach itself from its body and sail through the air. Kathryn blinked in astonishment, but then was drenched in hot, spurting blood and crushed under the dead weight of the hairy animal’s twitching torso. She was about to scream again when she saw a boot kick the carcass off of her, and then saw Chakotay leaning over her. In one hand he held an axe that was gleaming with blood.

“Can you walk?” he asked as he extended his other hand to her, his eyes scanning the area. “We need to get to the cabin before the rest of the pack comes after us.”

Unable to speak, she nodded and threw an arm around his neck, allowing him to lift her from the blood-stained rocks and propel her down the path. Her knees were wobbly, and she leaned heavily on him as he half-carried, half- dragged her to safety, her breath coming in panicked gasps. They hadn’t gone far when she could hear the other tosavou attacking their dead pack mate’s carcass, ripping it to shreds in a feeding frenzy. She shuddered to think that they could have been shredding her body instead.

Chakotay dropped the axe on the front porch, tore open the door, and then carried her into the cabin, pausing to lock the door behind him. She threw her arms around him and sobbed uncontrollably into his neck. She felt him lower her onto the bed and run his hands over her body, systematically searching for injuries. He pulled off his sweatshirt and began to wipe the blood from her face and hair with trembling hands.

“Are you bleeding? Kathryn, are you hurt?”

She found it hard to breathe, her chest bruised, and realized that she’d been chanting the same words over and over again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I forgot the phaser, Chakotay. I’m sorry.”

“Kathryn, listen to me,” he said, giving her a gentle shake and looking her in the eyes, willing her to hear him. “Is any of this blood yours? Are you hurt?”

She was trembling from shock and fear, but finally managed to focus on his question. “My chest hurts where he was standing on me,” she reported, “and I hit the back of my head on the rocks. But I’m okay. I don’t think I’m bleeding.”

“Oh, thank God,” he whispered as he collapsed on the floor beside the bed and buried his face in her stomach. “I heard the pack of tosavou in the area and decided to stay here tonight to be safe. I don’t know why I didn’t realize that you’d be coming home and looking for me. When I saw you coming down the path, I just knew . . . I just knew they would attack you.” He sobbed, and she comforted him, running her hands through his hair.

“It’s my fault,” she told him. “I was in a hurry to see you, and I didn’t think about the tosavou being in rut.”

He looked up at her, his eyes tortured with guilt. “It’s my fault, Kathryn. If I’d met you tonight as I should have, none of this would have happened. You were almost killed because I was pouting like a spoiled brat. If that tosavou had hurt you, I would never have forgiven myself.”

“You didn’t meet me because you were upset with me. And who wouldn’t feel that way? I’ve neglected you, Chakotay. Again. And you’ve been so patient with me, so considerate, so gentle and kind. Who else would let me think this situation through without applying a moment’s pressure or demanding an answer?” Her eyes filled with tears as she gave him a smile. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

“Yes, but I never get tired of hearing it.” He sat up and shuddered at the tosavou’s blood still smeared on her face and in her hair. “I’d kiss you, but you’re a mess.”

“So are you,” she replied, touching the blood on his arms. She sat up on her elbows, seeing for the first time how the tosavou’s claws had shredded the front of Chakotay’s heavy leather jacket with its initial blow. “Good thing I was wearing your coat.”

He nodded and helped her shrug it off of her shoulders, only to pale visibly when he realized that the sweater underneath was shredded as well. “Dear God,” he whispered, his hands trembling as he touched the frayed threads of the sweater, her pale skin unscathed beneath it. “If those claws had gone even a few millimeters deeper . . . .”

Then they were both in tears, holding each other on the bed and sobbing in relief, no longer mindful of the blood and gore because of the sheer relief and gratitude for Kathryn’s narrow escape from death. When they finally regained their composure, Chakotay helped her to the bathroom where she lowered herself into a tub of hot water and rinsed away the evidence of the attack. Once she was clean and wrapped in a thick robe, Chakotay took a quick shower and then joined her in bedroom where she was busily pulling the bloody sheets from the bed.

Their clothes were lying amidst the soiled sheets, so Chakotay picked them up to recycle them, only to have a PADD fall from his coat pocket with a clatter. “Kathryn, is this your PADD?”

“Yes.” She finished smoothing the clean sheets on the bed and walked toward him. She was wearing a simple silk shift that clung to the curves of her body. “That’s what I was in a hurry to share with you.”

He could feel his pulse thundering in his throat. It had been nearly two months since they had been together, and he was finding her state of undress very seductive. “Are you sure that I really want to read it?”

She smiled, “I don’t think it will upset you, if that’s what you mean. Let’s get into bed and read it, shall we?”

“Kathryn, if we get into bed together, I can guarantee you that I won’t be doing any reading.”

She stepped closer and rested her head on his chest. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Chakotay slept very little that night. He could hear the tosavou pack racing along the creek and through the trees and bushes surrounding the cabin as they searched for a mate or, with luck, another tasty meal. The hairy, bear-like beasts seldom came down this far out of the hills, but it had been a dry summer season and foraging had been scarce. The danger was so great that local ranchers had taken to locking up their livestock for the first time in twenty years.
Twice Kathryn awakened in tears from a nightmare over her attack, and he’d gently soothed her back to sleep, promising her that she was safe and secure. And then he worried about the fact that come morning they would probably talk through the decision she’d made. Had she decided to submit to the doctor’s procedure and lose, in the process, the last two years of memories? Would she assume her former rank and return to the Federation?

He wondered what he would decide if he were in her shoes. Without her whole memory, she felt insecure and incomplete, unsure of her behavior and of her proper reactions to her friends and her work. If he could regain twenty years of his past by sacrificing a tenth of that amount, would he hesitate to do so?

He studied her face in the darkness and told himself that this woman, this Kathryn sleeping beside him, would never leave him. But, if the last two years’ experience was taken from her, she would naturally think of herself as a Starfleet admiral with responsibilities to her home region and no real loyalty to the Republic that had welcomed her and been her home.

With those lost memories restored, Kathryn would be the same woman he’d known in the Delta Quadrant and in the years afterwards, disciplined, career oriented, and, in many ways, emotionally inaccessible. She might very well look at their relationship as an understandable mistake, an indulgence of her weakened condition that could no longer be continued once she’d been restored to her “real” self.

And he knew that losing her would be a devastating blow that he would never really survive. She had been all he had dreamed she could be as his lover– passionate and empathetic, brilliant and funny, industrious and playful, honest and generous. They had always been a good team and close friends, and so it had been easy to slip into a life that was built around her constant presence, to allow her into his heart and his bed, even though he’d been concerned about what would happen if her fragmented memory returned. He trusted her as he had trusted no one else in his life, and he reminded himself that whatever happened, no matter what she decided to do, she would never deliberately hurt him. Not deliberately.

The sun began to brighten the eastern sky. Kathryn stirred and reached for him, and he was helpless to refuse her. If their love-making the night before had been fueled by the hunger of a long separation and a danger survived, this morning it was a gentle reaffirmation of their deep and durable bond. The night before they had thoughtlessly taken from the each other the physical release they’d needed, but now they focused on giving each other pleasure and relishing the mutual bliss that their generosity created. Exhausted and totally relaxed, he finally fell asleep in her arms, aware of the fact that his life and his future was in her hands more completely than it had ever been before.

Kathryn became aware of an angry rumbling under her ear and raised her head from Chakotay’s chest to find him blushing. “Sorry. I skipped dinner last night.”
“What time is it?” she said, stifling a yawn.

“Nearly noon.”

“You must be famished.” She stretched against him with a satisfied groan. “Let’s go up to the house and eat in front of the fireplace.”

“I was wondering how long it would be before you started burning the firewood.”

“I don’t think I thanked you for saving my life last night. That tosavou never knew what hit him.”

“Oh, I feel thanked, all right,” he teased, pulling her close and giving her a passionate kiss. When she pulled back and he noticed the twinkle in her eye, he shook his head. “Oh, no, you don’t. You have to feed me first.”

They dressed quickly and headed up the rock pathway hand-in-hand. Kathryn shuddered when Chakotay paused to pick up the axe from the front porch, its razor sharp blade still grisly with dried tosavou blood. “Good thing I sharpened it after all the chopping I did yesterday,” he said as he rested it on his shoulder. “I don’t think we had time for a second blow, do you?”

“No, I don’t,” she agreed, averting her eyes from the blood.

While Chakotay laid the fire, Kathryn assembled a simple breakfast from what was available in the chiller. They sprawled on the sofa in front of the comforting heat radiating from hearth and breakfasted on croissants with fresh jam, sliced mixed fruit, juice, and, of course, plenty of hot coffee. They talked about their friends, Chakotay filling her in on the Maquis’ activities while she’d been gone, Kathryn filling him in on the Starfleet crew. Finally full, Chakotay grew quiet, and Kathryn knew that the time had come to discuss the issue that they had ignored for weeks.

“I apologize for being gone for so long, Chakotay. I never dreamed that I would be gone for two long months.”

“You were busy.”

“Between Captain Argin’s battle drills and B’Elanna’s upgrades for Essex, I met myself coming and going.” She paused and dropped her eyes. “But that’s no excuse.”

“Have I complained?” He took her hand, forcing her to look at him.

“No, but you could have complained. Really, you should have. I deserved it.”

“You needed time to make an informed decision, Kathryn. Getting pressure from me wouldn’t have done any good to either of us.”

“You’re so wise and patient.” She relaxed into the cushion next to him and traced his tattoo. “I love that about you.”

“Wise, maybe. But patient?” He nodded toward the fire and chuckled. “It was impatience that made me chop all that wood.”

“I don’t think I told you about Tuvok bringing my personal logs.”

“All of them?”

She nodded. “Thirty years’ worth of logs. The doctor thought that going through them might help my memory improve.”

“Did they help?”

“Not that much. There wasn’t enough time to listen to all of them, of course, so I had to pick and choose. I started early, just after I graduated from the academy and listened to a few from each year. And I listened to the ones that coincided with important events in my life– meeting Justin, the accident that killed him and my dad, my promotions, my first command, my engagement to Mark. And then, I really focused on the period that is the most incomplete–the ten years starting with the Delta Quadrant until my shuttle disappeared six years ago.”

“Four of which you skipped because of the temporal anomaly. It must have been hard to hear all that again.”

She looked away. “Excruciating.”

“I wish you’d told me. I could’ve helped you deal with it.”

“I thought I needed to do it alone.”

Chakotay studied her face, looking for a clue as to her state of mind. “So, what did you think of yourself as Voyager’s captain?”

“She looked and sounded like me,” Kathryn started with a shake of her head, “but, as you’ve said, she was different somehow.”

“The real Kathryn Janeway was hidden behind a carefully constructed Starfleet façade. Occasionally over the years, I got a glimpse of the real you.”

“I’m glad you saw the real me,” she joked, snuggling into his side. She felt a chuckle rumble through his chest. “Your name kept popping up.”

“What did you expect? I was the first officer.”

“At first, that’s all you were.”

“At first?”

“These are my personal logs, Chakotay, not the official ones. Every so often, I’d make a comment about you–that you’re a vegetarian, that you have a wicked sense of humor, that you’re habitually five minutes early for every appointment, that you seem to know when I need a humorous story, or a cup of coffee, or an evening away for some entertainment. Gradually, the comments were more personal in nature.”

“We were good friends.”

“We were more than friends, Chakotay.”

He sighed and took her small hand in both of his. “Yes, we were. And no, we weren’t. The closer we become emotionally, the more we distanced ourselves physically. Early on, you often touched my hand or arm, or you would rest your hand on my knee or shoulder. Later, as we became emotionally involved, you kept your distance.”

“That was something I talked about having to do. I was the captain, and I thought those touches were . . . interfering with our duties.”

“I thought maybe that was the case. I resented it at first, chafed against the limitations protocol imposed. I loved her . . . you . . . deeply and without reservation, and I thought you loved me back. I wanted the freedom to follow through on those feelings.”

“So did I. But, I just sealed off my emotions. That’s the term I used, ‘seal them off,’ banish them from my thoughts. I did it at a great price, by the way. I resented what it did to me, and I hated that it hurt you.”

“Past history now, Kathryn,” he whispered, but, in spite of his words, a tear spilled down his cheek.

“Sure, past history. I see that.” She solemnly brushed his tears away, her heart breaking to see his pain, even after all these years. “After awhile, you were in the logs every day. Chakotay says this, Chakotay believes that.”

“Well. You relied on me. I wanted to be there for you, and we spent a lot of time together.”

“And then, nothing. When the admiral came back to change her past and our future, your name completely disappeared. I was so surprised that I actually did a search for your name. For nearly a year, I didn’t so much as refer to you in passing.” She turned to look at him. “Was it Seven of Nine?”

He grimaced, unable to look her in the eye. “It was Seven, and the debriefings, and all the turmoil of our return. We were pulled in a dozen different directions, and we weren’t together much. It’s hard to explain.”

“You got tired of me, of waiting for me. And Seven was there.”

“It wasn’t that simple.”

“I never once mentioned that you were dating Seven in my personal logs.”

“That doesn’t really surprise me. Once you heard about us–from the admiral, of all people–you just withdrew your friendship. Or maybe I should say that you redefined our friendship as less personal, less intimate. It was as if I were your sister’s husband or your daughter’s boyfriend, off limits, taboo.” He sighed. “I think that hurt more than anything–to be around you, but not ‘with’ you.”

They were quiet a few moments, thinking, and then Kathryn said, “The next time your name appeared was a year later in an angry rant about your decision to leave the Federation for the Republic. I took it as a personal affront. And I was determined to talk you out of it.”

He grinned as he stated the obvious. “You weren’t successful.”

“I noticed.” She leaned her head against his shoulder. “I couldn’t believe that Seven was staying behind.”

“That relationship was doomed from day one,” he replied, his voice soft. “I can’t think of a more unlikely pair than the two of us. I tried a dozen times to talk to you about it, but you refused to listen. Finally, I realized that the two of us would probably never work things out. The Republic would be too far away for you to be a viable option. It looked like the perfect chance to start from scratch.”

“And you’ve done that.”

“I thought I had. I dated a few women. I found a job I loved. But something was missing. And then we received word that your shuttle had disappeared. I was depressed and spent days here building this house as a consolation. I realized that I would never really get over you, Kathryn, and I learned to live alone, with just the dream of what we might have been to each other. And so, when you miraculously reappeared . . . .”

“That must’ve been a surprise.”

“I was thrilled.” He kissed her hair gently. “I still am.”

“But you’ve been fretting over my decision. You’ve been afraid I’d leave you.”

“You know I have.”

“Well, that’s why I want you to listen to this.” She leaned forward and picked up the PADD. “This is the last personal log I made before left earth and eventually disappeared. Well, the last one in existence, since I’m sure I made a few more after this that were lost in the anomaly. Anyway, I want you to listen to this alone, Chakotay, while I clean up the kitchen. When you’re ready to talk about it, come find me.”

He took the PADD and watched her pile the used dishes and mugs on a tray and start for the kitchen.

As soon as he was alone, he activated the PADD, in some strange way disappointed to find out that it was text only. He’d wanted to see Kathryn as she’d been at the time, not just hear her voice. With a sigh of resignation, he closed his eyes and listened.

“This will be my last personal log before I take a few weeks of leave. I’m going to fly the new Delta shuttle to the Serena Expanse for two months of research with a Vulcan team, and then I’ll return to Indiana for some time with Mom. I may try to talk her into going to Ireland with me, or I may just go alone. I’m looking forward to having some freedom to decide whether I will get up before noon or spend the day in bed.

“I’ve resisted taking a long leave like this. I think I’ve relied on my work to fill my time and interest for much too long, a bad habit I picked up on Voyager. Here I am, home for three years, and nothing much has changed.

“I was so lonely in the Delta Quadrant that I imagined stepping off of Voyager, collaring the first single male within fifteen years of my age, dragging him to the closest available private room, and having my way with him for at least a week. I thought I could drop seven years of celibacy like a snake sheds its skin. I thought that within a year I’d be involved with someone seriously again, ready to make a life-long commitment.

“Yet, here I am, three years later, still alone. Behavioral habits, my counselors tell me, are the most difficult to overcome, because we condition ourselves by continually making certain choices until they become who we are, no longer a choice, but a fact. After awhile, they say, we can no more break those patterns than we could flap our arms and fly.

“The thought of it depresses the hell out of me.

“I remember a vacation our family took when I was a child. We went out West to a ‘dude ranch’ where we could ride horses and experience the hardships faced by the pioneers. It was one of those trips my parents loved because they thought it taught us about the hardships of life that we ignore in the twenty-fourth century. I hated every minute of it.

“I was about twelve and Phoebe was six, I think. The big event was a trail ride the last day we were there. Phoebe and I were thrilled to be given the most beautiful horses in the paddock–Pat and Mike–golden palominos with long, flowing, creamy manes and tails. Imagine our irritation when these two huge animals insisted on walking side-by-side, so close that Phoebe’s leg and mine rubbed together. I was furious. What could be worse than to have my kid sister right next to me every minute? I complained bitterly to Mom about it, and she asked the manager for help.

“He laughed and said, ‘Those two horses worked side-by-side for years hauling visitors around the property in a buggy until they’re only happy when they’re together. Your little girls can’t keep them apart. If one is away from the other, he’s depressed and disheartened. Wherever they are, they seek each other out–they think of themselves a part of a team. They’re only happy when the other one is right beside them.'”

There was a long pause, and Chakotay opened his eyes to see if that was the end of the log entry. A moment later, she resumed speaking, her voice husky with emotion.

“My counselors believe that my solitude is based on years of isolation in the Delta Quadrant, and so it is. Bit I know that it’s so much more complicated than that. In all those years, Chakotay was beside me. You could say that we pulled the Voyager ‘wagon’ as a team for seven long years, and in that time, his presence became so much more than a command relationship to me. Like Pat and Mike, he became a part of who I am, the better part of who I am. I miss him like an amputee misses an arm or a leg for the rest of their lives.

“Like those horses, I fear I’ll never be happy as long as Chakotay and I are apart, and I regret, deeply regret, learning this about myself too late to do something about it. He’s months away, across a treacherous region of space that prevents anything like normal travel or communication. For all I know, he’s married and a father. I hope so. I hope he doesn’t suffer the same regrets I do. I hope he isn’t alone.

“It wasn’t that I turned away from everyone on Voyager. I turned toward Chakotay. I escaped into his friendship and understanding. And in the process . . . in the process . . . I fell in love with him.”

There was another long pause. Chakotay sat up, his mouth open with surprise to hear this woman, this Starfleet admiral, acknowledge an emotion she’d always denied before. The log entry quickly ended, with just a few closing sentences.

“There, I’ve said it. Maybe if I can admit to myself that I love him, I’ll find the courage to move on. Maybe, but I don’t think so. They say the truth will set you free, but not this truth–this truth is a life sentence of regret.”

She paused again, and he could hear her crying softly.

“I should delete this whole message. After all these years, what difference does it really make to admit this? And who would care in the future? I’ve made my choices and will just have to live with them. Computer, file as a draft and flag for review in ninety days. End log.”

Chakotay listened to the log entry three times and then sat staring at the fire for an hour or more. By the time he finally roused himself from his thoughts, Kathryn had finished cleaning up the kitchen and was waiting for him somewhere, probably anxious for him to find her.

She was fast asleep on the study’s leather sofa, wrapped up in one of the colorful wool blankets he’d brought with him from Arizona. He knelt beside her, his heart pounding in anticipation.

“Kathryn?”

Her eyes opened, and she blushed, a little embarrassed by all that the log had revealed.

“Hi,” she said, pulling her arm from the blanket and cupping his face in her palm. “Did you listen to the log?”

“You loved me.”

She smiled and nodded. “Yes, I loved you. I still do. I told you months ago, Chakotay, that the real person, the woman inside the uniform, always loved you.”

He leaned forward and gave her a gentle kiss. “And your decision?”

“I’m not going back. I sacrificed too much of my life while we were in the Delta Quadrant, Chakotay. I’m not going anywhere unless you go with me.”

“Are you going to have the doctor restore your memory?”

“And lose everything I’ve experienced since then? No, I don’t want to do that. I’m thinking that it’s better to leave things as they are. What I know of those missing years is mostly pain, self-denial, loneliness, and hardship. Thanks to my fragmented memory, I no longer have that bad habit of solitude to overcome.”

Chakotay cried out with joy and caught her up in a passionate hug, and she returned the hug with matching enthusiasm. “Kathryn, I’m so glad. I wasn’t sure I could survive losing you again.”

She choked back a sob, relieved to have the decision behind her. “I hope we’re together always. Forever.”

Everyone, Starfleet and Maquis alike, found it difficult to say goodbye. The final weekend was a series of tearful farewells, poignant gestures of friendship, and promises to keep in touch in spite of the difficulties posed by the wasteland separating them. By the time the festivities were over, both Kathryn and Chakotay were exhausted and frazzled by the strain.
Tuvok was the last person to leave. Voyager’s three senior officers stood in the deserted garden of the reception center and regarded each other in respectful silence. Although her memories were spotty, Kathryn had enjoyed listening to them talk about their many years together and the bonds of friendship that the three of them had forged through good times and bad. She was convinced that she could see both affection and appreciation in Tuvok’s eyes, although she suspected that he would not admit having such emotions.

“Admiral, I fear that I will not see you again,” Tuvok remarked calmly, his face impassive. “Yet I am thankful to know that you are alive and well in your chosen home.”

“I’ll miss you, too, Tuvok,” she replied, wistfully shaking her head at his detachment. “But, please, won’t you call me Kathryn after all these many years?”

“Perhaps, Kathryn,” he said with a slight nod of his head, “our scientists will soon solve the communication problems that frustrate subspace communication between the Federation and the Republic.”

She slipped her hand into Chakotay’s as her heart seemed to swell in her chest. “I hope they do. I want so much to know what happens to our crew.”

“I will do all I can to keep you apprised of their lives,” the Vulcan promised. “And I will look forward to similar updates on those remaining here with you.”

Chakotay felt the trembling in Kathryn’s hand and put his arm around her shoulders to comfort her. He knew she was struggling to keep from crying. “Tuvok,” he said, “I’m sure we’ll see you again.”

“I hope you’re correct, Chakotay.” Tuvok solemnly raised his hand and made the Vulcan sign. “Live long and prosper.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” Kathryn said as she stepped close to her oldest friend and gave him a ferocious hug. Her voice was thick with emotion when she said, “I’ll never forget you, my friend.”

“Nor will I forget you, Kathryn,” he replied, gently embracing her. He looked up at Chakotay. “I’m gratifyied to know that the two of you will be together. Take care of each other.”

“We will,” Chakotay said, as Kathryn stepped back to stand beside him. Tuvok shook Chakotay’s hand. “Until we meet again.”

Tuvok nodded as he tapped his commbadge. “Tuvok to Essex. One to beam up.”

Chakotay took Kathryn’s hand as they watched their friend dematerialize. The garden was silent and cold. Kathryn turned and buried her face in Chakotay’s shoulder, finally letting her tears flow. He put his arms around her and comforted her with quiet words of reassurance, and then he gave her his handkerchief and watched her dry her eyes and blow her nose.

“Do you regret your decision to stay here, Kathryn?” he asked her as she looked up at him, a wistful smile on her face. “It’s not too late if you’ve changed your mind.”

“I’m exactly where I want to be,” she replied with absolute sincerity. “It’s just painful to say goodbye to such good friends, especially when it will be years before we see them again. If we see them again.”

“I know.” He pulled her into another embrace. “I remember how hard it was to leave you and the others when we came to the Republic years ago.”

She relaxed into him, grateful, as always, for his steady support and sympathy. “And thank you for consenting to a Federation wedding ceremony.”

She felt his chuckle rumble in his chest. “Somehow, it seemed appropriate in our case. And, anyway, it was a fait accompli, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Yes,” she agreed, reaching up to kiss his cheek. “We committed ourselves to each other long ago–in our hearts.”

“And the engravings in the rings are perfect.” He shifted her slightly and held up his left hand, the simple gold band gleaming in the half light of the late afternoon. He smiled when he remembered the curious looks their best man and matron of honor had given them when they’d studied the words inside their matching rings. “Tom and B’Elanna are going to want to know what the engravings mean.”

“You won’t tell?”

“It’s our secret,” he said, giving her a wink. He felt her shiver as the cold intensified in the growing darkness. “I think it’s a good night for a fire, don’t you?”

“It’s a perfect night for a fire, and for so much more,” she whispered, giving him a wicked grin.

He laughed. They were going to have a passionate marriage and a contented life, just as he had known they would when they found a way to be together. “I’m glad things worked out for us, Kathryn. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

They started for their ground vehicle arm-in-arm, and with each step they took, Kathryn felt the sorrow of saying goodbye to her missing friends being replaced by the sheer joy of sharing the rest of her life with her beloved husband. She looked down at her left hand and smiled, thinking how perfect and how meaningful the engraved names were inside their wedding rings: “Pat and Mike.”

The End