Disclaimer: Paramount owns all things Star Trek. No infringement intended.

Summary: How happy would you be if your most treasured dream came true? J/C

Note: Written for VAMB’s 2006 Secret Valentine gift exchange.

The R Factor

by mizvoy

Sunday, July 2, 2378–Stardate 55499.2

Kathryn Janeway’s quarters, San Francisco

“I’m too tired to go on a vacation,” Kathryn Janeway moaned as she gave her first officer a bemused smile. Sprawled on a chair in her Starfleet quarters, she had her arms behind her head and her feet on the coffee table amidst a clutter of PADDs, coffee mugs, and dirty dishes. “I don’t even have the energy to get up from this chair, much less make travel plans.”

Chakotay was stretched out on the sofa, his arm draped over his face to protect his eyes from the light. He took a deep breath and slowly released it. “Don’t make arrangements. Just go.”

“Don’t make arrangements? That’s a recipe for disaster.” She closed her eyes, fighting sleep. “With my luck, I’d end up stuck in the transport station because the hotels were booked solid with a diplomatic conference or a baton-twirling convention.”

He chuckled but didn’t have the energy to think of a clever response. The debriefings were finally coming to an end, and Voyager’s command officers, the only members of the crew still on duty, had just finished the last of a countless number of reports. This one had been so extensive that they’d had to choose between working both days over the weekend or straight through Saturday night. They’d decided to get it all done at once, finishing just as dawn was breaking on the first Sunday in July.

“I can’t move, either,” Chakotay confessed at last. “Any chance we could just stay where we are for a couple of weeks? I think I need to relax before I have enough energy to get some rest.”

“We’re a fine pair, aren’t we?” Kathryn gazed at him through the “V” of her stocking feet. “We’ve worked and slaved for years to escape from the pressure and responsibilities of serving on Voyager, and when the time finally comes, we’re too tired to enjoy it. I feel about as excited as I did when faced with one of Neelix’s leola root concoctions.”

“Leola root is probably the only thing I won’t miss from Voyager.” He lifted his arm from his face and peered at her. “We used to dream about being home like this while we were stuck out there. Remind me. Where did you think you’d go when you got home?”

“Indiana. I imagined eating an entire recipe of my mom’s caramel brownies and drinking a bottomless cup of real coffee.”

“We all wanted home. That’s not what I meant. Where did you want to go for fun? Lake George? Risa? A baton-twirling convention?”

“Oh, you mean a vacation spot.” She grew thoughtful. “Lake George is too much work. I don’t want to sail, or cook, or clean house. I don’t want to travel anywhere off planet, to Risa or even the moon. I can’t twirl a baton, and I think I’m too old to learn. No, I just want to relax. To sleep. To listen to the wind.”

“Somewhere with a beach then.” He put his arm back over his eyes and let his imagination run wild. “White sand beaches. The endless sound of the surf. Plenty of sea air. Huge plates of fresh seafood. Dozing in the shade while drinking a delicious alcoholic beverage that’s served in a coconut shell and has little umbrellas on top.”

“Hawaii.” Her eyes glazed as she remembered a long-lost holiday. “Maui was nice like that. Not too commercialized, yet very comfortable.”

“Let me guess. You went there with Mark.” Chakotay thought that the mention of her former fiancé’s name might create some tension, and he wasn’t disappointed. Although Mark Johnson was now married and the father of a young son, Kathryn had reestablished a friendship with him that included a dinner now and then when he’d come to San Francisco on business. There had been rumors about them among the staff, but Chakotay didn’t believe a word of it. He’d never asked her about the man directly, of course, because she didn’t tolerate such incursions into her privacy, nor did she pry into any one else’s private life.

“We went there a couple of times, before I took command of Voyager,” she replied after a short pause. And then she added, “You know, he was my friend for many years before we became involved with each other.”

This time, Chakotay not only lifted his arm from his face, he lifted his head from the cushion to look at her. “I understand what Mark is to you, Kathryn. A friend. A connection to a past that you need to have in order to map out a future.”

She nodded, obviously relieved. “I expect there’s been talk about us.”

“I suggest you just forget it. Anyone who knows you would know better.” He resumed to his prone position with a groan. “When you go to Maui, make sure you stay long enough to really depressurize.”

She laid her head on the cushions and closed her eyes, feeling a little depressed about her exhaustion. When she stopped working, the ghosts appeared, and she was tired of dealing with the “might have beens.” It would be so much easier to just keep working. “How long is long enough?”

“Remember New Earth? It took you nearly six weeks to depressurize that time–and you’d only been Voyager’s captain for two years. So, after seven years, I figure it should take you about what? Forty-two weeks?” He waited, thinking she’d come up with a caustic retort to his joke, but the seconds stretched, and then the silence became uncomfortable. He cracked his eye open to look at her. “Kathryn?”

To his amazement, she had jumped to her feet and was hurriedly organizing the mess on the coffee table, sorting through the PADDs and stacking plates and cups so that they could be easily recycled, working with a vigor that seemed out of place when compared to the languor she’d displayed just moments earlier.

“It’s almost dawn,” she explained with a glance out the window, “and we have the grand finale briefing tomorrow morning at 0930. Add to that the fact that my mom expects me to be in Bloomington for dinner tonight, and it’s obvious that I’ll never make it without getting some sleep today.”

“Let me help.” He took the dishes that she’d stacked on the table and carried them into the kitchen. When he returned, she had stored his share of the PADDs in a small satchel for easy carrying and was standing at the plate glass window, watching the warm pink glow of early light. Although her demeanor was outwardly calm, he was certain that he’d said something that had upset her and had brought their easy discussion to an abrupt end. Was she hurt by his implication that she would need months to recover completely from their ordeal? Or had the mention of New Earth caused her pain? Whatever it was, he deeply regretted that he’d made her unhappy. “Captain?”

“I’m sorry,” she stated, giving him a brief glance over her shoulder. “I don’t mean to rush you, but we both need to get some rest. I’m sure you’re just as anxious as I am to put these debriefings behind us and get on with our lives.”

“No apology necessary. I think we’ll both feel better after some sleep.” She seemed unwilling to look at him, so he added, “I’ll show myself out.”

“All right, Chakotay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Without another word, he picked up the satchel and left the building, breathing in the clean, pure morning air and feeling excited about the fact that their long ordeal was about to end. He headed toward his quarters, pausing at the corner to look up at Kathryn’s building. She was still standing in front of the window, visible from the street because her form was lit by the soft golden rays of dawn. When he saw her reach up and wipe her cheeks with the backs of her hands, he realized that she’d been crying.

Wednesday, July 5, 2378–Stardate 55508.56
Starfleet Headquarters

“I thought that my counseling sessions would end when the debriefings did.”

“A common misconception.” Meghan O’Shea gave her counseling patient, Kathryn Janeway, a sympathetic smile. “The two issues are only marginally related. Explaining what you did officially is quite different from showing me how you’re handling things personally.”

“But, Meg, we’ve been through all of that, and you know that I’m fine. If I weren’t handling the stress well, I would have lost my mind years ago.”

“I admit that you’ve done well at keeping your sanity over the last seven years, especially without the help of a counselor on Voyager.”

“We all counseled each other,” Kathryn replied. “We were like a family after awhile, in tune with each other.”

“Who helped you most?”

Chakotay’s smiling face immediately came to Kathryn’s mind, but she tried never to bring up his name when talking to the counselor. Each time he was mentioned, Meghan jumped into a discussion of their relationship with relentless fascination, and Kathryn didn’t feel up to discussing him at the moment. She resorted, instead, to her usual misdirection. “Kes was a wonderful listener. Neelix seemed to have a sixth sense about people as well as an indomitable spirit. Tuvok, of course, has been my friend for many years and knows me well enough to give me great advice, whether I ask for it or not.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Meg sat back in her chair and looked at Kathryn through half-closed eyes. “You know, Kathryn, I’ve worked closely with several of Voyager’s crew, and whenever I ask one of them who they thought was the best counselor on the ship, they always start with Chakotay. Yet when I ask you the same question, you don’t even mention him. Why is that?”

“I suppose because I primarily think of him as a first officer, not a counselor.” Kathryn could feel her face growing warm with a blush. “And a friend, of course.”

“In fact,” Meghan continued, “you’ve never once brought up his name voluntarily during our counseling sessions. Why not?”

“I don’t know,” Kathryn answered, feeling her face grow even warmer. “I didn’t realize that I hadn’t mentioned him.”

The counselor narrowed her eyes and shifted in her seat. “Let’s go back to your original question about continuing our sessions. I feel that there are some personal issues you faced on Voyager that still need resolution.”

“Personal issues.” Janeway frowned, suspecting that the counselor was referring to the period of depression she’d gone through at the beginning of their fifth year of exile. While she’d answered questions during the official debriefings about her two month “retreat” to her quarters, she and Meghan had yet to discuss it. Chakotay’s log, and the logs of the rest of the crew, had undoubtedly mentioned her withdrawal, but Kathryn had hoped that Meghan would decide to overlook the whole incident. No such luck. “Are you referring to the time just before we met the Malon?”

“The first two months of your fifth year? That’s part of it.” She picked up a PADD from the table between them and studied it briefly. “I did a little review of your duty hours–not including the time you must have spent reading reports and making official logs while supposedly off-duty in your quarters. I compared that to the time you spent on the holodeck or shore leave or pursuing some other recreational activity. Kathryn, you had no personal life. I’m surprised you lasted four years with this kind of work schedule.”

Kathryn smiled, inwardly relieved by her change of direction. “As I said, we counseled each other. And, I admit, Chakotay was a good sounding board for me. He did all he could to help me handle the pressure.”

“Weren’t you a little surprised that the two of you got along so well?”

“You mean because he was in the Maquis?” Kathryn shook her head. “We immediately put that behind us. We had bigger problems that we needed to face together.”

“Actually, I wasn’t talking about the Maquis problem. You know, we have a full Starfleet profile for both of you at about the time you were assigned to command Voyager. Out of curiosity, I ran his Starfleet profile and yours through the assignment protocols.” She picked up a second PADD, gave it a brief glance, and then sighed. “You two would never have been assigned to serve together as a command team.”

“Why not?” Kathryn didn’t try to hide her surprise. “We’re a great team.”

“Exactly. You’re too compatible.”

“Too compatible? You mean . . . the ‘R’ factor.” When Meghan nodded, Kathryn stood up, suddenly uncomfortable, and walked to the window. “A tendency toward romantic involvement that complicates the command structure.”

“Yes, and it shows up in nearly every category.” Meghan studied the captain’s tense posture with concern. “With that kind of additional pressure, I’m amazed you lasted four years before needing time alone.”

Kathryn turned to face her. “You’re telling me that Chakotay had something to do with my depression?”

“Well, not on purpose. You resisted the attraction, which completely astounds me. The stress of that smoldering fire added into the endless work, the overpowering tension, the constant attacks from hostile aliens, the unceasing need for supplies and technology?” Meghan shook her head, her eyes soft with sympathy. “The only thing worse than resisting that temptation would have been giving into it.”

Kathryn turned her back to the counselor and ran her fingers over her forehead. “Well, that explains a lot.”

“His involvement with Seven of Nine must have been a blow.”

“It was too late by then,” she answered with a shrug. “By that time, we’d built all the barriers we needed to keep things on an even keel.”

“Out there, yes. But now that you’re back, you’ve been forced to work with him one-on-one for another six months, only this time he’s unavailable because of Seven of Nine. No wonder you’re anxious to get away for awhile.”

“I’m used to that situation, Meghan. Seven isn’t the first woman he’s been involved with since we met, and his decision to date her doesn’t bother me, at all. But I was hoping for a few weeks of relaxation, only to have you tell me I have to stick around for counseling.”

“We could work out a deal if you’re willing to stay on Earth. You could call me two or three times a week, as long as you promise to go to a resort that will keep you busy and involved with people.”

“I was thinking about Maui.”

“That sounds good. I think we could work out a procedure that would let you get away and still continue our talks.” She gave Kathryn an indulgent smile. “How long are you planning to stay?”

“Well, no longer than forty-two weeks.” Kathryn couldn’t help but laugh at the perplexed look on her counselor’s face.

Saturday, July 8, 2378–Stardate 55517.0
Chakotay’s quarters, San Francisco

“A vacation seems like a pointless waste of time.” Seven of Nine stood in Chakotay’s kitchen helping him fix dinner. Five days had passed since his final debriefing, and he had spent them waging an unsuccessful battle for a few weeks away from Earth. “We expended a great deal of energy to arrive here as quickly as possible. I would think you’d be anxious to interact with Federation and Starfleet personnel.”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been doing for the last six months, and I’d like to have a chance to do something completely unproductive for a change.”

“You do realize that the doctor and I start working with the Princeton cybernetic team next week.”

“Can’t that wait?”

“I’m afraid not. The team has rearranged their schedule in order to expedite our joint project. It would be inconsiderate to ask them to delay the start for two weeks after all the trouble they’ve gone to.”

Chakotay sighed. “How long will this project take?”

“Three or four months, unless we decide to expand the parameters once we begin the study.”

He laid down his knife and spread his hands flat on the counter top, struggling to keep his temper. “Seven, by that time, Starfleet will expect me to report to my next assignment.”

“But you haven’t requested space duty. Chances are good that you’ll be teaching at the Academy.”

“If I am teaching, the new semester will be underway by the time your project is over, which means that we couldn’t get away before December.”

She nodded in agreement. “That would be perfect. I’m sure our project will be completed by then.”

He turned away, walking to the chiller to retrieve some onions as he fought to maintain his composure. “I don’t want to wait that long, Seven. I’m exhausted. I need time away from work right now.”

“It would seem that we’re at an impasse.” She looked up from the potatoes she’d chopped for their soup, a pile of cubes that were remarkably identical in size and shape. Her face showed no awareness of his growing exasperation as she continued talking. “And, in any event, the doctor and Lieutenant Torres haven’t as yet perfected the portable regeneration chamber I would need for an off-planet vacation.”

He put the onions beside the cutting board and decided to offer her a compromise. “I’m willing to go somewhere right here on earth so that you can beam up to Voyager for your usual regeneration periods.”

“Oh, I see. That way I could join you during the team’s down times.”

“No, Seven. I mean that you’d be with me all the time–whenever you weren’t regenerating.”

She gave him a look of exasperation. “I’ve told you that I’m obligated to work with the team, Chakotay. I can only be with you when the team wasn’t working and when I wasn’t regenerating.”

“And just how often would that be?” he challenged her, his voice tight with emotion. “It would be less than we have now, wouldn’t it? An couple of hours every three or four days? An occasional evening on the weekend?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, striding angrily out of the kitchen, through the living room, and into the study where his weight bench was located. His hands were trembling as he adjusted the machine’s resistance and then began his last set of the day, relieved to have a constructive way to release his anger.

He used the time to reflect on the last six months of his life. His relationship with Seven of Nine was much different than he’d expected it would be. She was still as beautiful and voluptuous as ever to the unpracticed eye, but he’d found out that the reality of her assimilated body was quite different. There were many implants still buried within her body or covered by her clothing, even thought the doctor continued to work toward eliminating as many of them as possible.

Whatever implants that remained were almost certainly permanent, including her cortical node and the heavy, hard processor that filled her lower abdomen and interfaced with her regeneration chamber. Beneath her clothing were other visible remnants of her assimilation, a starburst of metal on her arm, plates on her upper back and thigh, and a web-like mesh across her stomach, all of which were unyielding and inhuman to the touch. He found it impossible to embrace her without encountering a rock-solid reminder of her time as a drone, but he knew it was unfair to blame her for what the Borg had done to her, and he was willing to overlook all of that as a minor complication.

No, the biggest problem was their impossibly conflicted schedules and her rigid refusal to give their relationship the priority it deserved. On the ship, her odd waking hours had been less bothersome, for no one on the crew followed a normal day/night work rotation. However, life on a planet with its rhythm of light and dark brought her atypical habits into stark relief. She routinely worked for forty-eight to fifty-six hours straight before returning to her alcove for an eight- to ten-hour regeneration period. Often, her free time occurred while he was asleep or at work, and his time off frequently coincided with a project or experiment she was running. They didn’t live together, seldom slept together, and frequently turned to others for companionship.

“What’s the point?” he asked himself as he finished the last set of weights.

“What’s the point of what?” Seven stood at the doorway, tall, statuesque, stunning. “I finished chopping the onions and have put them and the potatoes on to boil. The salad is in the chiller until such time as we are ready to eat.” She paused, looking at him meaningfully. “We have a few minutes’ time.”

He knew what she meant by “a few minutes’ time.” One of the lessons she had learned early in their relationship was to use acceptable euphemisms for the term “copulation,” and Seven had mastered the technique so well that he found her indirect references more irritating than her direct approach had been. Besides, he suspected that she was offering to make love now because she had no intention of doing so later in the evening. Although it was Saturday night and they hadn’t spent more than a few hours together during the week, she intended to return to her work after dinner, or, failing that, when he went to bed. While she wouldn’t spend the night with him, she’d take care to satisfy his physical needs before she left. She was very scrupulous about doing her “duty.”

He stretched out on the work bench and closed his eyes. Just one week earlier, he and Kathryn had been working through their final Voyager briefing in her quarters. They’d worked together non-stop for the two previous days at their Starfleet offices, but had finally realized that they would be more productive in an environment that offered the comforts of home. Not once had they tired of each other’s company. They even had a relatively good time, laughing over the most unlikely things–misspellings that contained a Freudian slip or memories buried in the dry data of some embarrassment or practical joke.

Much to his surprise, Kathryn had left for an extended vacation as soon as the final briefing was over. She left without discussing her plans with him, and he was slightly hurt by the oversight. All she’d said, with a wink that told him she was following his advice, was, “Don’t look for me until you see me coming.”

Had she gone to Maui? Had she made arrangements in advance or had she found herself inconvenienced by a diplomatic conference? He chuckled, remembering their banter as he murmured, “Or a baton-twirling convention?”

“I beg your pardon?” Seven was still patiently awaiting his decision.

He sat up and buried his sweaty face in a towel. “Right now, Seven, I think I need a shower and dinner more than ‘a few minute’s time.'”

“As you wish.” She shrugged off his disinterest as she turned away. “I’ll work on some telemetry I brought with me while you clean up. The soup should be ready in about thirty minutes.”

“That’s more than enough time for my shower.”

Seven walked back into the living room and picked up a PADD, the silence of the house nearly suffocating Chakotay. With a sigh, he headed for the shower with one thing on his mind.

He wondered what Kathryn was doing.

Wednesday, July 19, 2378–Stardate 55546.57
Kathryn Janeway’s cabin, Maui, Hawaii

Twelve days. That’s all it had taken for Kathryn Janeway to start feeling like a woman again.

She lay on a lounge chair on her porch enjoying the cool sea breezes and sipping iced tea, a long-forgotten novel turned upside down on the table beside her. She smiled as she looked forward to telling Chakotay that his prediction of forty-two weeks had been completely overblown. She would have to remember to thank Meghan O’Shea for suggesting the perfect compromise.

“Here’s the agreement,” Meghan had said two weeks earlier. “Go to Maui for rest and relaxation, but on alternate days. Rest one day, and then do something organized and fun the next. Call me on the rest days so we can talk.”

Kathryn had felt a little foolish about the set-up, but she knew it was time for her to get away from San Francisco and start the process of divesting herself of seven years of constant duty. And so, she’d agreed to the plan and had returned to her quarters to make arrangements for an indefinite stay in the Hawaiian Islands.

She took a deep sigh and closed her eyes. The secluded cabin on the west shore of Maui was the perfect spot for her vacation. She was far enough from the beaten path to enjoy her “rest days” in complete isolation, relaxing within view of the stunning white beach and crystal blue water of the ocean. She tried hard, on those days, to interact with only Meg, replicating her meals in the cabin’s small galley or ordering a tray from room service.

Yet, she was close enough to the resort to walk there on “play” days in less than five minutes, and she’d had a variety of adventures, so far. She’d hiked into the crater of the dormant volcano that towered over the island and had spent a delightful day on a small glass-bottomed boat watching for whales while sipping white wine and nibbling on a tray of “pupus.” She’d spent two days taking sailing lessons that included safely landing the boat on a remote beach and sharing a picnic lunch with her handsome instructor. She’d even joined a tour group on a trip to Hana where she’d experienced a wonderful luau and then a wild beach party that lasted until well after midnight.

With each passing day, she’d felt layers of the captain’s façade slowly melting away and releasing a myriad of emotions and pleasures that she’d long since forgotten existed, or perhaps had simply repressed.

There was the joy of anonymity, the liberating knowledge that the people around her were not only ignorant of her identity, but that they couldn’t care less. There was the simple pleasure of choosing her clothing each day, deciding on a color or a cut for a reason that had nothing to do with utility or the easy attachment of a phaser or a tricorder. There was the strange feeling of emptiness because she had no ship or crew waiting for her, no worries about supplies or enemies, no star chart stuck in her head with a destination impossibly far away. There was the freedom to flirt with the men she encountered, first with Kiki, the dashing young man who had lead her group on their hike into Haleakela, and then a more extended, even dangerous repartee with the sailing instructor, Paul Hagen, as they picnicked alone on a tropical beach. Even now, she could feel the first tremors of desire as she thought about his smile, his easy laugh, and the twinkle in his blue eyes.

“Maybe next time, you and Paul should take a tent and spend the night out there,” Meghan had teased when they’d talked about the picnic the following morning. “After all, you are a single woman on vacation.”

But Kathryn had brushed off the suggestion. “I’m not ready for a love affair,” she’d protested, “not so soon.”

Meg had let the matter drop without comment, but the words had lingered in Kathryn’s mind.

Not so soon . . . after what?

So soon after starting the vacation? Impossible. She’d been here two weeks and felt better than she had in years. Besides, Paul Hagen would never be more than just a fling. He wasn’t the type of man she would consider for a serious relationship, and she had never been a woman who would get caught up in casual sex. If she were going to indulge herself, Paul would be an ideal choice and now would be the perfect time.

So soon after Voyager? That didn’t make sense, either, nor did it explain the hesitancy she felt about opening herself to a brief affair. Her responsibility to the ship and crew had been over for almost seven months. She was about to move on to work that would allow her to have a private life, that would give her nights and weekends off, that wouldn’t inhabit her every thought and move for days on end. Yet, somehow, she felt as if she had only just left the ship, as if the end of the ordeal had become real only after the final report had been filed.

So soon after the end of the debriefings? She was about to dismiss the thought when she gasped and opened her eyes. So soon after parting ways with Chakotay.

Of course, that was the problem, and Meghan had known it without asking. The “R” factor, they called it. If she’d been able to run a compatibility match between her profile and Chakotay’s while in the Delta Quadrant, she would have been better able to deal with it, but she had somehow sensed the danger of such a liaison, and she suspected that Chakotay had sensed it, too. All the signs were there. They had been blissfully happy together on New Earth, needing nothing and no one else but each other to feel complete, and that was without adding in the powerful bond of sexual intimacy. What if they’d consummated their love for each other? How could they have survived the push and pull of command when their hearts were ruling their heads? Starfleet records showed that relationships between an “R” factor command team almost always ended in disaster–unless one or the other of them left the ship. They had been doomed from the start.

The thought of Chakotay spending the rest of his life with Seven, or any other woman, brought pain to her heart. She’d ignored his budding relationship with Seven, as she had every other brief entanglement he’d had on their journey, focusing instead on the debriefings, but now she needed to come to terms with everything that had happened and everything that was to be.

Their partnership on Voyager would keep them connected to each other for the rest of their lives. He would visit her often, especially until their lives settled into a routine, and she would be a witness to his life with Seven, their courtship, marriage, perhaps even parenthood. Similarly, Chakotay would be there as she finally turned to someone else (if she ever did), and even though he would wish her happiness and joy, she would always wonder whether, in some small way, he regretted losing what might have been.

Feeling depressed and disheartened, she picked up her resort commlink and cancelled her sailing lesson for the next day. She needed time alone to come to terms with the future. Surely Meghan would understand that she needed an extra day or two to think things through. Suddenly conscious of the oppressive midday heat, Kathryn left her book, her commbadge, her half empty glass of tea, and even her shoes on the lanai and escaped into the air conditioned cabin. She hurried blindly through the living room, burst into her bedroom, and collapsed face-down on the bed where she grabbed a pillow and buried her face in it, letting the tears flow until, emotionally exhausted, she fell asleep.

Saturday, July 22, 2378–Stardate 55554.9
Maui, Hawaii

“So this is paradise?” Chakotay joked as he arrived in Maui and stepped off of the transporter pad.

The transporter chief snorted and replied, “My mom always says that you don’t find paradise, sir, you make paradise.”

Chakotay stopped in his tracks as he considered the truth behind the adage. “I’d say your mom is a wise woman.”

“Aren’t all mother’s wise?” the chief replied as he returned to his work, authorizing the next arrival without noticing Chakotay’s continued hesitation.

“Perhaps I’ll make my paradise, then,” he whispered as he stepped out of the building and took in his surroundings. Hawaii was as beautiful as he remembered, and he looked forward to the long walk down the beach to Kathryn’s resort. He had many things on his mind that he needed to think about before he saw her.

Just two days earlier, he’d finally given Seven an ultimatum–come with him on an extended vacation or call everything off for a period of re-evaluation. He hadn’t been surprised when she opted for the separation, and he sensed this cooling-off period was just the prelude to a permanent breakup. Seven didn’t seem upset by the prospect of losing him, and so he’d decided to put the whole episode behind him and move on.

While discussing this turn of events with his counselor the following day, he’d discovered something fascinating about his years as Kathryn’s first officer, something that made all of his previous bewilderment and aggravation disappear.

“I’m going to ask you a personal question,” his counselor, Greg Whiteside, had started, “so I’ll understand if you prefer not to answer.” At Chakotay’s nod, Greg blurted, “You and Captain Janeway fell for each other out there. Right?”

Chakotay had been so surprised by the question that he’d almost laughed out loud. “I can’t say the feelings were mutual,” he admitted, “but I definitely fell for her.”

“I’m betting they were mutual.”

Chakotay just shook his head. “You’ve never even met her.”

“No, but I’ve finally been able to study her Starfleet profile. I had a brief consultation with her counselor, Meghan O’Shea, after which Janeway agreed to let me review her file.”

“I don’t get it. Why would her profile help you counsel me?”

“Because I think you have some unresolved issues where your captain is concerned.” He spent a moment browsing through his PADD, and then said, “When I run your profile through as a first officer candidate for Captain Kathryn Janeway, I get a red flag. The R factor.” That was all Chakotay needed to hear to have the turmoil of the last seven years finally make sense.

Starfleet was tremendously proud of the officer assignment process they had developed over the last century, especially the one that paired command teams and assigned them to serve together. It was described as a scientific process that had been tested and verified time and again until it was nearly foolproof. It required that command track officers go through extensive psychological and sociological testing beginning in the Academy and continuing as they worked their way up the ranks. In addition, their superior officers completed extensive evaluations on them that included information on everything remotely affecting their performance of duty, including their hobbies, preferred sport activities, and favorite foods.

The party line was that the list of prospective first-officer candidates given to any captain contained individuals who were equally suited to complement the captain’s strengths and weaknesses. They claimed that the captain’s personal interview was simply a nod to an earlier, less organized era and a concession to the insufferable ego of command officers. The captains themselves were a little more skeptical.

Chakotay could remember asking Kathryn about his predecessor, Commander Cavit, who had been referred to her after being matched through the assignment process. He still smiled when he remembered her reply. “Cavit was the best fit of the lot,” Kathryn had answered, “although the whole assignment system is just slightly better than a random match, in my opinion.” She’d laughed and rolled her eyes in exasperation. “I remember thinking that if these were the officers that were best matched to me, I might be better off resigning and finding a research position in some remote lab!”

However, even with the system’s limitations, every officer in Starfleet conceded that the process screened out the worst possible matches, especially those pairings that were doomed to failure by the two most difficult emotional complications–complete incompatibility (the X factor) and near certain romantic entanglement (the R factor).

Chakotay was relieved to learn that he and Kathryn had struggled against the complexities of the R factor. It explained much of the personal agony he’d felt and helped him understand why their recurring conflicts had caused both of them so much pain. Starfleet claimed that R factor command teams were constantly distracted by nearly irresistible magnetism and mutual attraction. Over time, they become more and more dependent on each other, shutting out the rest of the crew and even turning away from their spouses and children. And while he wanted to say it wasn’t true, he knew it was. He’d seen it happen once or twice in his career, and he’d always wondered how such straight-laced and disciplined individuals could give in to behavior that undermined their command. Until now, that is.

Thank God he and Kathryn had never given in to their feelings, he thought to himself. Initially, they’d avoided that disaster because of their unprecedented predicament of being 70 years from home, because of his rebellious Maquis background, and because of her engagement to Mark Johnson. By the time they were able to put those impediments aside, they had erected barriers that had kept them from crossing the line, and they’d replaced what would have been a torrid love affair with an intimate, committed, and durable friendship.

They were able to share their lives in meaningful ways–in frequent, brief consultations during the day, in regular working meals once or twice a week, in public activities and parties with the crew–and they were able to keep their focus on the ship. But he could see that it had been a continuous struggle that had exhausted them both.

And he found that he needed to talk to her about it. Without a second thought, he packed a small bag and arranged for a transport to Maui.

Chakotay’s stroll soon led him to the resort that Gretchen Janeway had assured him was her daughter’s current location. He paused to check his uniform before walking up to the front desk with the confident air of a man doing his assigned work.

“My name is Chakotay,” he said, flashing his Starfleet security badge. “I need access to a secure communication link. I was wondering if I could borrow one.”

The clerk didn’t hesitate. “Right this way, sir.”

Settled at a desk in the resort’s business office, Chakotay logged into the communication system and sent his counselor a message canceling their next meeting. It was hardly a secure message, but the desk clerk didn’t need to know that. Before logging off, however, he deftly accessed the resort’s records and memorized the location of Kathryn’s cabin.

“Thanks so much,” he told the clerk as he left the lobby. “You saved me a lot of time.”

The walk to her cabin was a quick one, but he was disappointed to find the door locked and no one at home. With a quick look over his shoulder, he pulled a tricorder from his satchel, flipped it open, and started a decryption program that triggered the lock mechanism after just a few seconds. With a second look behind him, Chakotay pushed the door open.

“Kathryn?” he asked, pushing the door closed behind him. “Are you here? It’s Chakotay.” No answer.

He glanced around the room, taking in the small eat-in galley and living area before peeking into the bedroom. Everything was orderly and straight, as he expected, and, much to his relief, there was nothing to indicate that she had enjoyed male companionship during her stay. He washed up in the bathroom, changed into civvies, and then returned to the galley where he placed his satchel on the table.

It was mid-afternoon in the islands, but Chakotay was still on California time and worn out from the emotional stress he’d experienced over the last few days. He tried to stretch out on the short sofa, only to discover that his feet extended far beyond the armrest. He stood up and briefly considered stretching out on the floor before he shrugged his shoulders in resignation and returned to her bedroom where the blue-flowered comforter seemed to be calling him.

“I’ll just sleep for twenty minutes,” he promised himself, “and be up and on the front porch when she gets home.”

And so he closed his eyes with a sigh of satisfaction, burrowing his face into the pillows that were scented with Kathryn’s perfume and then falling fast asleep.

Meanwhile, two miles down the beach, Kathryn Janeway packed her few belongings in a backpack and started for home. Disheartened by an argument with Meghan O’Shea that morning, she’d packed up a sandwich, a thermos of coffee, a blanket, and a book before heading out for a quiet afternoon away from her temporary home.
“Our agreement was for an equal amount of solitude and socialization, Kathryn,” the counselor had reminded her during their routine conversation. “This is the fourth day in a row that you’ve stayed in seclusion, just when I thought you were starting to feel better.”

“Oh, I am feeling better, Meg. Really.”

“Don’t try to fool me, Kathryn. Does this blue funk have something to do with Paul Hagen?”

“Paul Hagen?” Kathryn stared at the screen in confusion. “If you’re wondering whether I followed up on that brief flirtation, the answer is no. I told you it’s too . . . soon for that.”

“I’m thinking I need to come over there and see you in person.”

“No, you don’t need to do that. I’ve signed up for the dinner cruise tomorrow night. If you doubt me, you can check with the front desk. And then I’m thinking I might as well come home and get back to work.”

Meghan frowned with worry. “Are you sure?”

“I need something to occupy my mind.”

“Can’t you just read a book? Or are you fixating on something in particular?”

Kathryn could feel the counselor’s eyes watching her. “On everything I regret.”

The conversation had grown serious after that, and once it had finally ended, Kathryn had escaped to the beach for a long walk, a quiet meal, and a few hours of basking in the sun. Hours later, as the afternoon drew to an end, she walked back to her cabin, following the beach just where the waves could wash over her bare feet and keep them cool. She wore a short cover-up over her swim suit and had the empty backpack over one shoulder. With one hand she kept the floppy, wide-brimmed hat on her head while the other hand carried her sandals.

She could tell that she’d gotten too much sun from the way her skin stung under the minimal pressure of the satchel’s straps. Once she got back to the cabin, she’d have to make use of the dermal regenerator she’d lifted from Voyager’s sickbay during the chaos of its renovation.

Her mind wandered to the argument with Meg that morning and the unspoken problem that she was sure the counselor had decided was the root of Kathryn’s distress.

The infamous R factor.

She’d been a second-year cadet when she’d first heard of Starfleet’s celebrated assignment system and had decided to broach the topic with her father during spring break. She’d started by outlining her understanding of the selection process and had just mentioned the R factor when Edward Janeway had interrupted her.

“Are you going to ask me why people don’t use this system to find the love of their lives?” His blue eyes had twinkled with humor at her transparent discussion.

She’d blushed, remembering how the end of her most recent relationship had very nearly ruined everyone’s Christmas just three months before, and knew that he had, once again, seen right through her. “I have to admit that the idea occurred to me.”

He got up from his desk and joined her on the sofa where he could put his arm around her shoulders. “It isn’t as foolproof as Starfleet would make you believe, Kath. In fact, some of the command teams chosen as ‘most compatible’ turn out to be a big mistake once they’re on the ship, although the assignment types try not to let people know about that fact. There are too many variables in a relationship to reduce it to a computer-matching system, and even the best matched couple has to work hard to keep a relationship healthy.”

“I wasn’t planning to sign up for ‘Heart-Throbs’, Dad. I was just curious.”

They both laughed at the mention of the well-known match-making computer business that was run by a few enterprising Betazoids, but then Edward had pulled her close until she relaxed against him, her head on his shoulder. “You’ll find the right man, honey. And when you meet him, you’ll know.”

She grinned, thinking of another family saying. “Will hearts come out of my eyes?”

“Yes, exactly,” he chuckled. “And you’ll hear violins playing ‘Love in Bloom.’”

“Ooooo, not that song.” She’d relished the sound of his laugher as it rumbled in his chest. “I’d just as soon hear a bagpipe play ‘The Hag at the Churn.’”

The bittersweet memory forced her to stop. With tears stinging her eyes, she stared down at the seawater that bubbled around her feet. She’d lost so much in her life. She’d been barely twenty-two when her father and her fiancé had died right before her eyes, and the ripples from that disaster continued to wash against her life.

She held back whenever her heart was at risk. She’d done it with Mark Johnson, refusing to commit totally to their relationship, even as she’d put her all into her career. She’d done it with Chakotay, ignoring their obvious attraction until he’d finally moved on. And now, alone and lonely, she was paying the price. It was time to stop.

Lifting her face to the sea breeze, she resumed her walk, determined to start a new chapter in her life. It had been twenty years since the Terra Nova’s crash, and what had happened on Voyager was finally over, as well. Justin was dead, Mark was a married man, and Chakotay had found another love in his life, but there were other fish in the sea, other challenges to be overcome. Perhaps she’d just sneak into Starfleet and look for a few other eligible “R factors,” in spite of her father’s skepticism. What harm would that do?

Feeling better than she had in days, Kathryn stopped at the resort’s four-star restaurant and picked up her dinner, a delicious eggplant parmigiana, a huge salad, and a bottle of white wine, before returning to her cabin. While waiting for her food, she sought out the activity director and confirmed the late afternoon departure of the dinner cruise the next day. She thought about stopping at the front desk to arrange for her departure on Monday, but her good mood prevailed. Maybe she’d meet Mr. Right in the meantime!

After just one step into the cabin, her good mood evaporated. Someone had been there since she’d left, and it couldn’t have been housekeeping, since they’d completed their work while she was still talking to Meg. She let the door close with a quiet click and headed for the kitchen table where she could put down the meal and have both hands free.

Much to her surprise, a good-sized Starfleet bag rested in the middle of the table. She relaxed a little to know that this person was probably a fellow officer and not a hoodlum looking for loot. She left the food on the counter by the sink, dropped her satchel, and tiptoed into the living room, taking her hat from her head. She found a pair of boots in front of the sofa, but nothing else. Her head swiveled to the bedroom door, wondering who would have the nerve to break into her cabin and sleep in her bed without so much as a by-your-leave. Not Harry Kim. Tom Paris?

She walked to the bedroom door and pushed it open just enough to peer in, shocked to see a large man sleeping face-down on her bed. She pushed the door open farther and realized that the man was none other than Chakotay. Her momentary delight was quickly replaced by irritation. How dare he sneak in like this and scare her half to death.

“You sure don’t look like Goldilocks, even if you are sleeping in my bed,” she cried out as she slammed the door open, watching with satisfaction as Chakotay cracked the side of his head on the nightstand.

“Kathryn!” He sat up and stared at her, rubbing his injured head. “What time is it?”

“Time for me to call the cops, I’d say.”

He grinned at her as she glared at him, her hands on her hips. “I wanted to surprise you, that’s all. I had every intention of being awake and waiting for you on the front porch.”

“And pretending like you hadn’t broken and entered in the meantime?”

He gave her a sheepish grin. “I guess I did surprise you, didn’t I?”

“I guess you did.” She laughed, finally, and sat down beside him on the bed. “Let me look at your head.”

He turned to let her feel the knot that was forming above his ear and noticed, in the process, the angry red shade of her skin. “You didn’t wear enough sunscreen, Kathryn. Your shoulders are going to blister.”

“I have a dermal regenerator.” She got up and headed for the bathroom. “And I also have an analgesic for your sore noggin.”

She soon returned, pressed the hypospray into his neck, and then handed him the regenerator, gesturing at the edge of the bed. “Okay if we do this now?”

“Sure, sit down.”

“Thanks.” Kathryn peeled off her cover-up and dropped the straps to her suit, only to become aware of the hot, sweaty smell of her skin after a long day in the sun. “I really need a shower.”

“In a minute. Let me take care of this first.” He carefully ran the device over her shoulders, gratified to see the red skin return to its normal color and its usual sprinkle of freckles. “So you’ve been here two weeks?”

“Yes, I have,” she said, sighing as the sting of the sunburn vanished. “And I’ll have you know that I don’t need another forty weeks to return to normal, either.”

He smiled, glad that she remembered his previous joke. “So you recommend this as a way to depressurize.”

“Oh, yes. Absolutely.”

“All better.” He looked over her skin for any spots he might have missed. Once he was satisfied with his work, he put the regenerator on the bedside table and scooted to the edge of the bed where he could sit beside her. “I need a vacation, too.”

“Is that what you’re here for? A vacation?” She narrowed her eyes at him, thinking that he was perhaps a little too sure of himself where she was concerned.

“Oh, no,” he countered, realizing that his sudden appearance might look like he’d invited himself into her vacation . . . and literally into her bed. “I didn’t come here to . . . I’m not here because . . . I wouldn’t think of . . . presuming to . . . .”

She laughed at his sputtering embarrassment. “Oh, shut up and come help me set the table. I assume you’re hungry?”

He was relieved that she was willing to move past his outrageous behavior. “I’m starved.”

“We’ll eat first and then call the front desk. I’m sure the resort can find a room for you, even on short notice.”

“I have a better idea. I’ll get dinner ready while you take a shower. I’m sure you’ll feel better once you’re cleaned up and in regular clothes.”

“That’s a deal.” She walked through her bedroom, stopping briefly for a clean outfit, and then leaned against the closed bathroom door in an effort to regain her composure. A thousand questions assaulted her mind. What was he doing here? Why was he alone? Why would he arrive without a word of warning? Was Seven going to be along in a day or two? Did he expect her to serve as their local guide?

She stood under the warm shower a long time, trying to imagine his motivation, but she finally relaxed and decided it was best to enjoy his company while she had the chance to do so. He was here, obviously his usual friendly self, and, whatever his motive was, she’d missed him and would enjoy having him around. Besides, she wanted to find out how he’d been and what had happened with the crew since they’d last been together.

Kathryn emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later to find the tiny dinette transformed into an elegant table for two, complete with linens, flowers, and candlelight. “What the . . . . How did you do all this so quickly?”

“There’s a replicator right over there, remember?” He gave her a dimpled grin as he pulled out a chair. “Madame?”

She sat down without a word and watched as he deftly opened the wine, pouring each of them a glass before handing her one and then sitting down across from her. Soft music played from the other room as Kathryn slowly placed the glass on the table, unnerved by the decidedly romantic atmosphere he’d created. She gave him a level look. “What’s all this about, Chakotay?”

His eyes clouded with distress. “I’ve missed you.”

“You’ve missed me. And so, of course, you beam to Maui without a word of warning, break into my cabin, and think I won’t wonder if you’ve lost your mind in the process?”

He set his glass down and twirled the stem between his fingers, watching the wine swish with the motion. “I can’t come visit my friend?”

“Certainly you can, and your friend is very glad to see you.” She made a face as she looked at the table and its romantic décor. “But this is . . . not like you.”

“I can’t ignore this any more, Kathryn.”

She frowned, confused by his vague response. “You can’t ignore what?”

“I could when there was something important in the balance, when I could justify our pain by looking at the light years we were putting behind us on Voyager. Then it was a worthwhile sacrifice.” He looked up at her, his eyes bright with emotion. “But not any more. Not now that we’re home.”

“Our pain?” She sat up straight, putting her elbows on the table and covering her mouth with her fingers. The sorrow she saw in his eyes broke her heart. “Chakotay, has Seven done something to hurt you?”

“Not Seven.” He got up from the table and picked up his bag, settling it on his shoulder and then standing there, staring at the floor, looking as if he’d lost his best friend. The music changed to a sad song, one of those that addressed the hopelessness of love. “I’m sorry I disturbed your vacation, Kathryn,” he whispered as he started for the door. “Forgive me for bothering you.”

She was in front of him in an instant. “Oh, no, you’re not leaving like this. You can’t show up here without warning and then leave without explaining yourself.”

“You obviously don’t want to hear me out.” He refused to meet her eyes. “Maybe if I’d kept the faith . . . .”

“Kept the faith?” She grabbed his shoulders and forced him to look into her eyes. “Chakotay, would you please explain what the hell you’re talking about?”

His eyes were tortured. “Have you ever heard of the R factor?”

“The R factor?” Kathryn stepped back in shock to hear him mention the very thing that she’d been contemplating an hour earlier. In fact, she couldn’t have been more astounded if he had slapped her. “In the assignment process.”

“I always thought it was just a load of crap, but now . . . now it helps me understand why I can’t stop thinking about you.”

She felt her face grow warm with a blush. “Who told you about it? Your counselor?”

“He says I have unresolved emotional issues about my captain.” He gave her a sad smile. “I’d say he has a definite flair for understatement.”

She rubbed her forehead absently and said, “Nine times out of ten, I think the R factor is a load of crap.”

He gritted his teeth and moved past her, heading for the door before she could see the tears in his eyes. “You don’t have to say anything more. I’ll leave you alone, Kathryn.”

“Will you let me finish?” She grabbed his shirt, forcing him to face her. “Nine times out of ten it’s crap, but not this time.”

For a moment, he stared at her in confusion. “What?”

“I think it explains a lot, too. About our struggles out there, and about my ongoing desire to be with you. I’ve missed you every day since the debriefings ended.”

“You have?”

“Is that the pain you’re talking about, Chakotay?” She stepped closer, putting her hand on his chest. “Is this irresistible pull what you can’t ignore any longer?” Her eyes smoldered as she gazed up at him. “This . . . passion . . . that we share?”

He pulled her into an embrace, thrilled to feel her arms around his waist. “Do we share these feelings?”

“Yes, we do.” She buried her face in his neck. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“Because I married Seven of Nine in the Admiral’s timeline?” Her nod was almost imperceptible against his chest. “I think I know what happened with that. On Voyager, working with you as closely as I did was all that I could ever hope for. As bad as it sounds, I probably used Seven to make up the difference.”

“Maybe so.”

“But when the debriefings ended and you left on your vacation, I discovered that more time with Seven wasn’t going to happen. I then realized that I didn’t want more of Seven’s time and attention. I wanted more of yours.”

She pulled back and smiled up at him. “No more Seven?”

“No more Seven. But don’t feel sorry for her. She didn’t have time in her busy schedule for our relationship.”

“I wondered how long you’d put up with that.”

“I’m through. And besides, I had to find out about you.”

“And so you rushed over here?”

“In the heat of the moment. Yeah.” He shrugged. “When I realized that the R factor had added to the complexity of our command relationship, I had to find out if you felt the same way I did. We aren’t a command team any more, and I was determined to make you rethink our future.”

“I’m willing to do that.” She took the satchel off of his shoulder and set it on the floor, and then she took his hand and led him back to the table. “I know you’re starving, and so am I. Why don’t we talk while we eat?”

They lingered over the meal, discussing the many times that their attraction for each other had very nearly overwhelmed them on Voyager, starting with their first emotional and dramatic meeting on the bridge.

“I thought someone had hit me in the chest with a sledge hammer,” Chakotay laughed. “I couldn’t believe that meeting a little bitty Starfleet captain could make my heart skip a beat.”

“‘Little bitty,’ hm?” She gave him a wicked grin as she kicked him under the table. “I thought you were the handsomest thing I’d ever seen. And when I told Tuvok that you were going to be my first officer, I swear he thought I had ulterior motives.”

“Oh, I wish you had,” Chakotay laughed, giving her a wink.

It was such a relief to share their true thoughts and feelings that they found a second bottle of wine that Kathryn had stashed in the chiller and continued their talk while cuddled on the sofa. When their inebriation demanded fresh air and exercise, they walked along the beach holding hands, watching the thin sliver of the moon sparkle on the water and gazing out toward the stars where their relationship had begun.

“Talking to you like this has done me more good than six months of counseling,” Chakotay admitted as he smiled down at her. “For the first time in years, we can admit how we feel about each other. I feel like I’ve been living a lie.”

“Not really a lie; a half-truth.” She broke away from him and did two joyous pirouettes on the boardwalk, a huge smile on her face. “I feel like dancing.”

Chakotay caught her wrist and pulled her close for a passionate kiss. “You’re so beautiful.” Another kiss. “Enchanting.” She melted against him. “Intoxicating.” A final, lingering kiss. “Being with you makes my heart sing.”

“Chakotay, beloved,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck. “No woman in all of history has ever been happier than I am at this moment.”

They started to kiss again when they heard someone nearby clear his throat and realized that they were standing in full view of the resort’s dining room and bar. Embarrassed, they headed back toward her cabin, giggling like children who’d been caught stealing candy.

“Oops. I forgot to get a room,” he reminded her as they walked up the cabin’s pathway.

“I think two people can be comfortable here–as long as they don’t mind sleeping together.” She stopped on the first step of the porch and turned to hug him, relishing the way her added height gave them full-body contact. “I’d like for us to spend a lot more time here, away from everyone who knows us. I want to get used to thinking of you as Chakotay, not as my first officer. I want you all to myself for a change.”

“We can stay here as long as we want. We both have leave to burn.” He gave her another kiss, moaning as she pressed her body against his and rubbed her thigh against his groin. When they ended the kiss, breathless, he whispered, “Oh, Kathryn, I’ve dreamed of this moment for too many years.”

She leaned her forehead against his, giddy with joy and wild with anticipation. She could feel her heartbeat pounding in her throat and was more than ready to hold his warm body against her own. “I’ve heard people call Maui paradise, but it was just another beach resort until I found you sleeping in my bed.”

“You think it was paradise to find me sleeping in your bed?” His eyes sparkled with mischief as he scooped her into his arms and carried her into the cabin. “Wait until we’re in that bed together–I promise to show you what true paradise is like.”

“Oh, Chakotay,” she whispered as the door closed behind them. “I can’t wait.”