A continuation of my “Safe Harbor” post-Endgame series, this is set after Voyager’s twenty-fifth reunion celebration. J/C have been married for nearly 20 years. At seventy years of age, they pause to reflect on one of the most critical moments of their lives.
Note: In this universe, the funeral Harry Kim apologizes for missing in “Endgame, Part 1″ was Chakotay’s. The date on his gravestone must have been a typo.
Disclaimer: Chakotay and Kathryn Janeway belong to Paramount. No infringement intended.
For JinnyR
Mirror Image
by Mizvoy
“Twenty five years.” Kathryn Janeway snuggled into her husband’s side and watched the moon rise as they relaxed on the porch of their Lake George retreat. The glider creaked softly as they rocked. “Twenty five years since Voyager returned, Chakotay. I can’t believe it’s been so long.”
“Did you enjoy seeing everyone as much as you thought you would?”
She smiled up at him. “It was wonderful. Starfleet was generous to provide the whole Voyager crew with transportation to Earth. Of course, they also enjoyed the good public relations from the reunion, but that was a small price to pay.”
“Miral Paris is a twenty-five year old lieutenant in Starfleet.”
“And a pilot with as much talent as her father. Everyone looked so different, so much older.”
Chakotay nodded. “I didn’t recognize half of them at first.”
She laughed. “Well, they all recognized me!”
“Only because they saw the other admiral at this age twenty-five years ago.”
She self-consciously touched her white hair. “Sometimes I surprise myself when I see my reflection in the mirror. I think, ‘What’s that woman doing here?’”
Chakotay pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head. “You’re much prettier than she was.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere, Chakotay. She was me.”
“No, she wasn’t. You didn’t live the life she did. You didn’t suffer through another sixteen years in the Delta Quadrant, and that shows in your face. Your eyes aren’t as haunted. You seem happier, more relaxed than she ever was.”
She shifted so she could see his face, touching his cheek. “Thanks to you.”
“You know, we’ve never really talked about the admiral.”
“What’s there to say?”
“Why do you think she did what she did? Why destroy twenty-six years of history?”
“You heard her, Chakotay. She said she wanted to correct her mistakes. She realized too late that there were times when she should’ve put the crew first.”
“I heard her say that. I just didn’t believe it.”
“Why not? Why would she lie?”
“I don’t think she lied as much as she told only partial truths. Maybe she didn’t really know why she was doing it.” He smiled at the skeptical snort she gave him and pushed on. “Kathryn, you know as well as I do that she was playing a part from the very first. She very carefully manipulated us into doing what she wanted us to do.”
“But we didn’t do what she wanted us to do. She intended to come back with us. And she never intended to destroy the hub on the way home.”
“She forgot she’d be dealing with an immovable force—Captain Kathryn Janeway.”
Kathryn smiled. “My idealism frustrated her.”
“She envied the fact that you still had that idealism.”
Kathryn pulled away from him and gave him a puzzled look. “I’m getting the idea that we have very different opinions of the admiral.”
“I may not be a scientist like some people, but I know Kathryn Janeway like the back of my hand.”
“Oh, you do? So? Why do you think she came back?”
“Because she lost her nerve.”
“Lost her nerve?”
“She said that the hub was the one chance for Voyager to cut the trip short, but she’d been unaware of its presence inside the nebula. I’d bet that it was the only time she backed down when faced by a mystery.”
“Have you forgotten that she and I share that decision, Chakotay? I didn’t pursue that option either.”
He looked thoughtful. “Right. I hadn’t thought of that. Why didn’t you investigate the nebula, Kathryn? Why weren’t you curious why there would be such a ‘hive’ of Borg cubes in one place?”
“There was no way I’d risk the ship to find out. I was overwhelmed by the sheer number of cubes we saw, and the near-miss when we were in the nebula scared me half to death. I felt unsettled by the danger there. For once in my life, I was less concerned about solving that mystery than I was about staying alive.”
“Strange. I always thought curiosity was your middle name. And you have more courage than anyone I ever met.”
“I felt . . . ,” she paused and stared into the distance. She wanted to say that it was too soon after Quarra, that she still carried the dream of normalcy inside her like a stillborn child. But she didn’t want to remind him of that incident or of her attachment to Jaffen. Instead, she said, “I felt alone, for some reason. Insecure. Unsure of myself.”
Chakotay felt a chill go down his spine. He’d begun his relationship with Seven just before they’d entered the nebula. Had Kathryn sensed that his attachment had shifted from her to someone else? “Maybe it was me.”
“You? Why would you think that?”
“I’d just started seeing Seven a few days before that.”
“Ah. You think perhaps I missed having the full measure of your attention?” She smiled and leaned into him, slipping her arms around him. “I don’t think so. I always knew you were with me.”
“I hope so,” he whispered. But, in his heart, he believed it was true.
“Anyway, while it was our best chance to get home early, we didn’t know it at the time. We didn’t find out about the hub until the admiral told us, and we didn’t have the technology we needed to survive the trip until she brought it to us.”
Chakotay nodded. “I studied the admiral’s whereabouts on the ship, where she went, who she was alone with. She met with many of the crew one- on-one. She was a master at manipulating us.”
“She knew just what to say to push my buttons.”
“She told you about Seven and me. That we got married.”
“Not just that.” At his curious look, she continued, “She said that Seven would die in three years. She said that our friendship was never the same after that.”
“I find that hard to believe. She must’ve been exaggerating.” The comm system chimed inside the house, and Chakotay moved to answer it. “That’s probably Tom Paris with the details on Miral’s birthday. I’ll be right back.”
“I don’t think so,” Kathryn said once she was alone. She watched the moonlight sparkle on the lake as her mind took her back twenty-five years. She seldom thought of her last conversation with the admiral. It upset her to remember the anguish her older self had gone through, the anguish she herself had nearly experienced.
The ready room lights had been dimmed for night shift, yet the two women sat in the half-darkness sipping coffee and watching the stars stream by. Voyager was speeding toward the nebula where they would put into action their desperate plan to get the crew home and deal a crippling blow to the Borg.
Below decks, the crew worked to prepare for the attack, rechecking the newly installed shields, testing and retesting the upgraded torpedoes, securing the ship for battle, and making last minute repairs to the damage the admiral’s sleek shuttle had taken in its trip through the temporal rift. In this room, though, there was a calm silence that shrouded the true feelings of its occupants.
The collaboration between Admiral Janeway and Captain Janeway had gone smoothly once they had realized that they had no choice but to work together. They had just finished a final review of the plan and had paused for, what else, a cup of coffee. In a few minutes, the admiral would return to her shuttle for a preflight checklist and Kathryn would go to sickbay for the hypospray that doctor was preparing in case the admiral was assimilated. The hypospray would be filled with two drugs–one that would protect the admiral from complete assimilation, the same drug that the captain had used when she’d tried to free the drones from Unimatrix Zero. The second drug would infect the queen with a fatal virus.
“It will be,” the admiral had said with a small smile of satisfaction, “her last assimilation.”
They were both taking a gamble with their lives, with the crews’ lives, in attacking the hub, but only the admiral was facing near certain death. Neither of the two women had slept a wink since the awful outcome of their plan had become clear. Even now the fact of her sacrifice was an prospect they preferred to leave unacknowledged.
Kathryn found it strangely comforting to share her favorite hideaway with the older version of herself. She surreptitiously watched the gray- haired woman sip her coffee, shaking her head at the near-religious experience it seemed to be. There was no sign of the tension she knew the woman must feel, and, she hoped, no sign of her own anxiety. Starfleet captains, and admirals, were hardly the type to let their feelings keep them from doing their duty.
“I always loved this room,” the admiral said, breaking the long silence at last. “It’s the perfect design, don’t you think?”
“You know I do,” Kathryn replied, and they both laughed at the thought of how much they shared. Yet, there were things the admiral knew that haunted the captain, things she had to find out before it was too late. “I wonder if you’d answer a few questions before you go.”
“I probably shouldn’t.”
“You said that Seven died.”
“Well, she won’t now, so you don’t need to worry about it.”
“It’s not Seven that I want to know about.”
“It’s Chakotay, right?” The older woman narrowed her eyes, and Kathryn was surprised to see them darken from blue to steely gray. “I told you that they marry. In fact, they’ve already started dating, although they’ve kept it a secret from everyone so far.”
Kathryn frowned, struggling to mask her surprise. “That’s not it. What did you mean when you said that neither you nor Chakotay were the same after Seven’s death?”
“Captain, I shouldn’t discuss this with you. It might affect your relationship with them once you’re home.”
Kathryn pressed on. “Did you mean we were deeply grieved? I can believe that. It’s just that I don’t believe that anything could damage our friendship. We’ve been through too much together. We know each other too well, value each other too deeply. I love him . . . like a brother. Unconditionally.”
The admiral slowly leaned forward and placed her empty mug on the coffee table, and then leaned back, stretching her arms along the back of the sofa. “You’re wrong about how you feel about him, Captain. You take his attention for granted, when, in fact, he’s always been much more devoted to you than his position as first officer requires, much more considerate of you than you are of him. He deliberately works at lightening your burden. Or he has until now.”
The memory of the angry warrior speech hung between them like a spider web glistening with dew—ethereal and delicate, yet unforgettable.
Kathryn pressed on. “But, it seems to me that Seven’s death would be a mutual loss that would pull us closer together, not drive us apart.”
The room was silent as the admiral studied her. Kathryn knew what she was doing, using silence and scrutiny to unnerve her, and so she listened to her heartbeat, controlled her breathing, and stared back until the older woman sighed and shook her head.
“You won’t let this pass, will you?”
“No. I have to understand what happened between you.”
“If you insist, but it isn’t pretty.” The admiral stood up and walked to the lower level, trailing her hand along the railing and desk and finally ending up at the shelves, where she examined the keepsakes displayed there, picking them up one-by-one as she spoke. “What if I told you that I killed Seven.”
“Killed? You mean murdered?” Kathryn scowled. “I wouldn’t believe it.”
“I might as well have phasered her right here in the ready room.” She placed the sextant back on the shelf and turned to face the captain. “You’ve sensed the change in the crew since Quarra. And in yourself.”
Kathryn gasped in surprise. Her eyes widened as she realized the truth of the admiral’s words. She had been on edge since Quarra, restless and impatient with the sacrifices Voyager required of her, but she hadn’t, as yet, made the connection. “I was happy there. I was blissfully unaware of my past and of my endless quest for home. For the first time in seven years . . . maybe longer . . . the heartbreaks of my life were gone.” The faces of her father and Justin, of Mark, Phoebe, and her mother flickered through her memory. “But it wasn’t real.”
The admiral stood by the steps, her hands gripping the railing. “That’s it, in a nutshell. You weren’t your true self on Quarra, of course, but ignorance is bliss. And the awful reality that it would be thirty more years before you felt that freedom again does something to the crew. But especially to you, Captain. Melancholy. Hopelessness. Irritation. Anger. All of that, and more.”
“Yes.” Kathryn had replied, her eyes unfocused. “All of that and more.”
“To add insult to injury, Chakotay will tell me about his relationship with Seven a few weeks from now, on the very same day that I find out about Tuvok’s mental illness. I felt as if someone had kicked me in the stomach–I literally couldn’t breathe. I isolated myself from both of them, from the whole crew, determined to make everyone believe that I could handle anything on my own.” She looked up and shrugged, heading back to the sofa where she collapsed with a groan. “That’s what the captain is supposed to do, isn’t it?”
Kathryn nodded her acknowledgment. “The buck stops here.”
“About eleven months from now, Mike Ayala and I will be kidnapped while on a diplomatic mission with a species that seemed perfectly safe but turned out to be just another Delta Quadrant wolf in sheep’s clothing. They eviscerated Mike alive in front of my eyes. I can still hear his screams.” She paused, very nearly overcome with emotion. “They took turns beating me just for the exercise. I woke up ten days later in sickbay. It took six weeks for me to regain enough strength to assume my duties and return to the bridge.”
Kathryn was shocked. “Dear God.”
“I guess you could say our luck was running out. Tuvok was immobilized by guilt because he’d failed to anticipate the danger. He spiraled into insanity in a matter of weeks. Chakotay worked ungodly hours until I returned to duty. He spent all of his free time with his new wife, of course, but I was so weak, so out of touch, that I considered his absence from my life, from my recovery, a dereliction of duty and a personal disloyalty. Once I was finally able to work again, we split shifts and never worked together for any length of time. When I was on the bridge, he was off duty, with Seven. When he worked, I was off duty, alone.”
“What about the rest of the senior staff?”
The admiral just shook her head. “Tom and B’Elanna had their baby to care for and a very happy marriage to fill their free time. Harry was the new tactical officer and spent weeks and months learning the job. Neelix was gone. Seven? Out of the question. I did spend some time with the doctor, but mostly I just stayed focused on the work.”
“But you need people,” the captain argued.
“The crew needed a dominant captain more, and so I made the sacrifice of my own desires. And my happiness. You think you’re lonely now, Captain. You have no idea.”
“It must have been awful.”
“It was. I was miserable and irrational. I started taking reckless chances, and Chakotay became more and more apprehensive about me, confronting me again and again about my dangerous decisions. Then one day we came to a cube full of ‘sleeping’ drones. I decided we should beam onto the cube and retrieve its transwarp coil. Actually, I decided Seven should beam aboard–alone, to lessen the possibility of detection. Of course, Chakotay objected to my plan, and, as usual, we argued bitterly about it. Worse than we’d ever argued before.”
Kathryn caught her breath. “And she died on that away mission.”
The admiral continued, unhearing. She spoke softly, as if she were reciting the argument word for word from memory. “Chakotay said that boarding the cube was much too perilous, possibly even a trap. I said the odds were even, that we would keep a constant transporter lock on Seven and beam her back at the first sign of trouble. He said that if we were so desperate to get home that we were sending the crew on deadly missions, then it was time to give up, find a habitable planet, and settle down. I accused him of objecting only because I was sending his wife. I said he was willing to sacrifice everyone else’s future because he was married and had nothing waiting for him at home.”
“Settling down has always been a touchy subject between us,” Kathryn agreed. “He enjoys baiting me with that solution to our problems every once in awhile.”
“True, but this time was different. This time it got personal. I was so livid with him that I lost control of my temper completely, and so did he.” She shook her head, reluctant to continue. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”
Kathryn nodded.
“I suggested that he was using his position as first officer to insure that his wife had the best assignments and the most coveted work shifts. His face turned crimson with anger. He said that I was wrong, that he went out of his way to make sure there was not even a whiff of favoritism and that he’d object to sending any member of the crew to this cube. I rolled my eyes in disbelief, and for the briefest moment, I thought he might physically attack me. He claimed that I was jealous of Seven because he loved her and had married her instead of waiting another thirty years for me. I laughed and pointed out that he was just egotistical enough to assume that every woman he meets would fall in love with him.” She buried her face in her hands. “I pushed past him and started to leave the room, but he stopped me with his next words.”
“What?” Kathryn asked, although she was afraid to hear the answer.
“He said that the whole crew knew that I was in love with him. He accused me of being afraid to admit how much I cared, preferring to hide behind protocol and my position as captain than to face my true feelings. I turned around and glared at him. I denied that I’d ever loved him, swore that I could never love him. I said that he was beneath me. I said that no self-respecting Starfleet captain could fall for a man who would throw away a promising career for a hopeless cause like the Maquis, no matter how noble and romantic it seemed.”
“You said what?” Kathryn asked, incredulous.
“You heard me.” The admiral sighed and wiped a tear from her eye. “Did I mention that we had that argument in the mess hall?”
Kathryn closed her eyes in shock, imagining how quickly the details of their argument had spread through the crew. “You didn’t mean it.”
“No, of course I didn’t. But I was furious and cocky and self- righteous because he always pointed out the recklessness of my plans, even when I knew he was right. I think I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to make him as miserable and lonely as I was.”
“What did he do?”
“What could he do? He stood there looking at me with disappointment and worry in his eyes. We both realized that we’d crossed the line and said things that shouldn’t have been said in private, much less in the mess hall. I wanted to snatch the words back out of the air.” She looked up, misery etched on her face. “But words can’t be taken back. And, despite that childhood rhyme to the contrary, words can cause more damage than sticks and stones.”
Kathryn shook her head in sympathy. “What a mess.”
“Well, before either of us could think of a way to salvage the moment, Seven volunteered to take the mission, assuring everyone that she could retrieve the transwarp coil and return to Voyager safely. The mess hall was a quiet as a tomb. Chakotay put his arm around her and said, ‘Kathryn, if anything happens to Seven of Nine, I’ll never forgive you.'” The tears spilled from her eyes as she struggled to speak. “It was the last time he ever used my given name. Seven was dead less than twelve hours later, and neither of us was ever the same.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, that phrase was my mantra. I wish I had a bar of gold-pressed latinum for every time I apologized to Chakotay, but it made no difference. How could it? Although we continued to work together for thirteen more years on Voyager, the close friendship you have now was gone forever.”
“And when you got home?”
“Chakotay returned to his home world. I saw him now and then, commed him regularly, tried to stay close. He never remarried.” She choked back a sob. “He died two months ago. I was so arrogant, so cocky, so careless with his precious friendship. I always thought that he’d forgive me for anything in time. I believed that our bond was too special, too important not to survive. I was wrong, and I can’t live with that knowledge any more. I’m here to make it right.”
Kathryn had gone to her then, and the admiral had cried quietly on her shoulder. She had soothed her, reassured her, and as she looked at their reflection in the window, mirror images clinging desperately to each other, she promised herself that nothing like the admiral’s tragedy would happen in her life.
“I know how difficult it was to tell me this,” she said as the admiral pulled away at last. “But I thank you for being honest with me.”
“As hard as it was to tell, it was harder to live.”
“I promise it won’t happen that way again.”
The admiral gave her a crooked grin and cupped Kathryn’s face with her hand. “It’s always good to learn from the past, even when it’s the really the future.” She shook her head, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Or a past that won’t happen.”
“Stop!” Kathryn laughed as she put her hands over her ears, relieved that the anguish of the earlier moment had evaporated into a moment of levity. “You’re giving me a headache.”
Kathryn leaned against the porch rail, hugging herself against the cold. Even now, twenty-five years later, she could remember the sadness and resignation in the admiral’s face. The loss of her life was just the last in a long line of sacrifices. Everything of value had already disappeared.
Chakotay emerged from the house chuckling. “The dinner’s been moved from Tuesday to Thursday and from Paris to New Orleans. I’m telling you, Kathryn, their life is like a traveling circus.” He stopped short when he saw her brushing tears from her cheeks. “What’s happened? Are you all right?”
“Promise me that you’ll never leave me.”
He was beside her in an instant, wrapping her in a warm embrace and holding her firmly against his chest. “I have promised you that, Kathryn. Why do you doubt me?”
“Talking about the admiral, remembering how miserable she was, makes me realize how much I need you.”
“What happened to them won’t happen to us, Kathryn. We won’t let it.”
“No. The admiral saved us from that.” She relaxed into his embrace, her voice muffled by his chest. “Imagine what she went through, Chakotay. Tuvok was insane. Her relationship with you was permanently ruined. Yet, she marched through thirteen more years of unrelenting pressure without either of you to encourage her. How did she get from day to day?”
He rubbed her back to comfort her. “They were home for ten years before she finally took action,” he commented. “What took her so long?”
“She spent much of the time trying to figure out how she could’ve shortened their journey. Once she realized that the Borg hub was hidden inside the nebula, she knew when she should have acted. Then two crucial events occurred. You know about the Klingon scientist who perfected the time travel device. She practically stole it from him, I think.”
“And the other thing?”
She pulled back and studied his face. “Her Chakotay died.”
“But I thought they were no longer friends.”
She smiled wistfully. “Not friends, exactly, but their relationship continued, in a way. She said that he remained the best first officer in the Fleet. He was always there for her on the bridge, and she desperately needed that, but their relationship after hours was never the same.” Kathryn cupped his cheek and kissed him softly. “She told me, no matter what happened between you and Seven or any other woman, that I was to be your friend. She said my happiness depended upon knowing that you would be a factor in my future.” Kathryn turned away, looking out across the lake. “She broke when she lost you, Chakotay. She couldn’t face a day without you in it. You’d been gone less than two months when she took the time travel device.”
Stunned, Chakotay tried to reconcile this revelation with what he’d known. Or thought he’d known. “Frankly, I’m surprised, Kathryn.”
“Why?” When she turned, Chakotay could see the tears glistening in her eyes. “You know how much I love you.”
“Now I do, but then?” He shook his head. “Remember the dinner we had, the three of us, in your quarters?”
“Of course. I can’t remember a more uncomfortable meal in my life.”
He smiled. “Did you know I was the only member of the senior staff she didn’t meet with privately? I thought that was strange. The only time we were alone together, when you left the room for a moment that night, she turned to me and asked me how my love life was. She meant Seven, of course, and I was so shocked I didn’t know what to say. She gave me that mysterious smile of hers and said you didn’t suspect yet. But she said, ‘Don’t be afraid to tell her. She really cares about you and wants you to be happy.’” He sighed. “I thought she meant that you didn’t love me.”
“Oh, no, that’s not what she meant,” Kathryn whispered. “She meant that I loved you enough to let you go. She meant that I loved you so much that your happiness was more important to me than my own.” She stared across the lake, remembering. “And she didn’t meet with you alone because she couldn’t trust herself not to try to recapture what she’d lost. She still loved you, Chakotay. I could see it in her face every time she looked at you, and she desperately wanted you to love her back.”
“I did love her back. I always loved you, Kathryn.” They stood together on the porch, their arms around each other’s waists. “Such a waste. So many years when we could’ve been together.”
“I’m not going to regret a past that brought me into your arms,” she replied. “I’m going to live today to the fullest and look forward to all our tomorrows.” She looked up at him and sighed. “No more regrets.”
“I keep thinking of the admiral, how badly I misunderstood her. I wish I could tell her that I loved her, that her Chakotay loved her.”
“She knew. It was impossible for them to be together, of course, with their awful history, with all they had said and done to each other. They may have lost the spark they once had—that we still have—but he was there for her. And she never moved on. For her, there could be no one else but you.”
“Strange. I can’t imagine not being your friend.”
She turned and laid her head on his chest. “Good. They say that the things we can’t imagine will never happen.”
“I will always be here for you. Don’t ever doubt me.”
She snuggled into him, blinking back the tears that suddenly filled her eyes. She remembered the tears that Admiral Janeway had cried that night on Voyager, the way she’d admitted that she couldn’t, wouldn’t carry on without Chakotay’s presence in her life. “Maybe the admiral and I are more alike than I want to admit. I’m not sure I can live without you, either.”
He felt her shiver as a cool breeze blew in from the lake. “We’d better go inside. It’s getting cold, and we’re both tired.”
She gripped him tighter, unwilling to let the moment pass. “Since this is our moment to remember the past, I have a confession to make.”
“About the admiral?”
“No, about my interview today with the Fednews people. I told a lie.”
He looked down at her, recalling the long, formal discussion she’d recorded about their time on Voyager and about their precipitous return. He couldn’t imagine what her lie could’ve been. “It all sounded very familiar to me, your usual answers.”
“And my usual lie.”
“Well, they say confession is good for the soul.”
She took a deep breath. “People ask me what I consider was my greatest accomplishment was out there, and I always say a variation of the same thing.”
He nodded. “Something about keeping the ship and crew together through seven years of hell, maintaining Starfleet discipline, or keeping your sanity through incredible stress and danger. Those are lies?”
“Not lies, but also not my greatest accomplishment.”
“All right, tell me, Kathryn Janeway. What’s your greatest accomplishment?”
“Earning the love of a man like you.”
Chakotay could feel a blush crawling up his neck. “That’s flattering, but I doubt that anyone would believe it. Besides, how did you ‘earn’ my love? You know I fell for you the first day we met.”
She grinned, nodding her head in agreement, remembering the sudden, deep magnetism they’d both felt that first day on Voyager’s bridge. “Was that love? Or was it attraction with a healthy side of lust?” He laughed and pulled her closer, burying his face in her hair. “I’m not talking about the hearts and flowers kind of romantic love, Chakotay, although it’s nice. I mean the durable, lasting love that can withstand thirty-two years of real life.”
“A love that durable takes two people to sustain, you know. I’m only half of the equation.”
“Not from my perspective. You didn’t give up on me in spite of everything I did to turn you away. You saw through all my posturing and denials and protocols and gave me the opportunity, the capacity to love again.” She yawned, suddenly too tired to think straight. “That I met you, befriended you, and still have you beside me–that is the only achievement in my life that really matters.”
He could feel her wilting in exhaustion as she slumped against him. “In light of all you’ve accomplished, I’m flattered.”
She smiled against his chest. “What time is it?”
“Late, even for you.”
She glanced up and saw her reflection in the window, but instead of herself, she saw looking back at her the face of the admiral who had sacrificed her life for them. She felt a pang of grief for the older woman’s misery. “She was successful, you know.”
“The admiral?”
“Seven died a ‘natural’ death, even though she died much too young. Tuvok is a doting great-grandpa several times over. The crew arrived home in time to put their lives back together again. A better future for the crew she loved, that’s all she really wanted.”
“And then there’s you and me.”
“Our marriage.” She looked up at him and gave him a gentle kiss. “My most precious possession.”
He smiled at her, grateful for all the joys and sorrows that they shared. “I think it’s time for bed.”
They entered the cabin, locking the door behind them. Overhead, the moon shone onto the earth as it had for eons, the stars wheeled in their usual pattern, and somewhere, perhaps in the next world, perhaps only at the moment of her fiery death in the Borg queen’s lair, Admiral Kathryn Janeway smiled with satisfaction.
The End