Ties that Bind

by mizvoy

PART 3

Several weeks after Part 2 (and following the conclusion of “Endgame”)

“You can’t be serious.” Kathryn Janeway dragged her attention from Voyager’s EMH to Admiral Carol Jocasta, the chief of Starfleet counseling, for confirmation. “You have records from Quarra? What kind of records?”

“Everything we could find about the crew,” the doctor answered, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Employment records, medical files, personal journals, photographs, letters.”

Janeway was so amazed that she stared at him open-mouthed until she finally recovered her voice. “You’ve kept this information hidden from me for all these months?”

“If you recall, Captain, the decision was made to shield the crew from this ‘lost period’ of their lives, and so I sealed and encrypted them.”

“Why didn’t you just delete them?”

He gave her a condescending smile. “The files, especially the work and medical ones, were instrumental in the restoration of your memories.”

“And the other records? The journals, letters, and pictures? What possible good can come from keeping those?”

“He kept them on my advice, Captain,” Jocasta broke in. “There was the possibility that some of you might spontaneously regain troublesome portions of your memories or that some complication might arise based on ‘repressed’ experiences from your time on Quarra. These records would provide invaluable background information for treating those problems.”

Janeway could feel her heart pounding. “They could also create incredible conflict between members of the crew.”

“At first, that might have been true,” the doctor interjected. “When you initially returned, everyone was tentative about what this ‘other self’ might have done. But, most of the crew has distanced themselves from the event, and those who were caught up in more complicated situations have had time to discuss and work through what happened to them.”

Jocasta agreed. “It’s significant that four of the six couples have re-established a relationship that will allow them to parent their child, and the fifth has managed to find a way to include the third partner. I think their success shows us that the best way to deal with this is to get everything out in the open.”

“Are you suggesting that we open these files to the crew?” Janeway asked, stunned at the sudden turn of events and hesitant to mention the fact that the sixth couple, Chakotay and herself, had seen their close friendship torn to shreds by what had happened on Quarra. “Let people access their records, just like that?”

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting,” Jocasta answered her, holding up a hand to stop her from protesting. “I can understand why you implemented this no-tell policy on the ship, but time has passed, and we should be willing to make the necessary adjustments. No one did anything to be ashamed of on Quarra, Captain, and keeping secrets only leads to unnecessary speculation and uncertainty. One week from today, the doctor will give everyone access to the Quarran files that were about them and to their personal journals or logs. Whether they take advantage of the opportunity to review the material will be up to them.”

“So why am I here?” Jeneway fumed, wishing she could stand up and scream her objections at the top of her lungs. “You’ve already made up your mind. You don’t want my opinion.”

“Protocol requires that I inform the ship’s captain when I’m reversing a significant policy established while in deep space, even when I’m confident that the change is in the crew’s best interest.” Jocasta hesitated, taking in the fury that Janeway was struggling to control. “Captain, does your negative reaction to this indicate that you remain troubled by what happened to you on Quarra? If so, I want to offer you my services should you need to work through some lingering problems.”

Janeway pulled herself to her full height and shook her head. “I’m not convinced that this is the best course of action, Admiral, but I acknowledge that you are the expert, and I know how to follow orders. As for my personal reaction to this, I have no desire to talk about that with you or anyone else.”

“Very well. The offer stands, nonetheless.” The admiral’s eyes shone with empathy. “I promise you it’s for the best, Captain.” She paused, as if waiting for something else to be said before she finally dismissed them.

Janeway and the EMH walked out of the admiral’s office suite in complete silence. Once they were in the quadrangle of Starfleet Headquarters, the doctor began to hum quietly to himself, enjoying the warm afternoon and the buzz of people passing them on the sidewalk. Suddenly he realized that the captain was no longer walking beside him and turned to find her standing in the middle of the sidewalk glaring at him, fists on her hips, eyes blazing.

“Captain?”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me about these ‘files’ from Quarra?”

He stepped back in surprise at her vehemence. “You said to protect everyone from what happened. You even said that you preferred to know as little as possible about what happened.”

“I didn’t mean that you should hide something this important from the captain of the ship.”

“During the period of your absence on Quarra, I frequently consulted with Starfleet about the situation. When I told the counselors of your captivity and of the memory loss I knew would occur when you returned to duty, they recommended that I gather relevant files in case I would need them during your readjustment-and they did come in handy. It’s important to keep in mind that you received alien medical treatment and-.” His voice trailed off as the captain strode past him like a locomotive with a full head of steam. He hurried to catch up with her. “Captain?”

“If we were still on Voyager,” she muttered through gritted teeth, “I’d . . . I’d-.” She stopped so quickly that the doctor nearly ran into her. She stared at the brickwork of the walkway. “You had no right to hide that material without at least informing me of its existence. As captain of the ship, I need to have access to any and all information that might affect the crew’s well-being and performance of duty.”

The doctor was insulted by her lack of faith in him. “Begging your pardon, but is it the captain who’s upset about this or is it Kathryn Janeway?”

The captain was trembling with anger, her quiet voice filled with restrained emotion, as she answered his accusation, “Doctor, don’t you dare start this with me. I’m furious that you neglected to inform me of this information and that I find out about it seven months after we left Quarra and from someone who isn’t even part of the crew.” She waited a moment, closing her eyes as she took a deep, calming breath. “Is there anything in these documents I need to know?”

“Not on an official basis,” he started, “but . . . some of the data is rather personal.”

“Personal in what way?” She steeled herself for the answer. When the doctor paused, she glared at him. “Well?”

“The Quarrans made sure that the humans lived and worked in close proximity, no doubt in order to encourage you to make friends and be happy workers. I’ve told you that the crew spent a great deal of time with each other in their off-duty hours.” He smiled at her tentatively, but plunged on when she simply waited for the other shoe to fall. “I haven’t read the personal journals, but I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that many of them made note of each others’ relationships in their personal logs.”

Janeway rubbed her temples with her fingertips, realizing that her romance with Chakotay would probably be documented in the crew’s records as well as their own. “You mean they probably talked about couples who were together on the planet.”

“Well, yes.” He paused, hesitant to continue. “And then there were the weddings.”

Her head snapped up. “Weddings? I thought only Tom and B’Elanna got married on Quarra.”

“There were eight weddings among the crew.” His eyes widened as his captain’s face grew pale with shock and she seemed unsteady on her feet. “Are you all right?”

She crossed her arms across her chest and shook her head slightly. “Just get on with it.”

“Tom and B’Elanna’s marriage was the only one we didn’t have annulled, since they were already married on Voyager.”

“Oh, my God.” Janeway stumbled to a nearby bench where she collapsed and leaned forward to cradle her head in her hands. The world was spinning and she was struggling to keep from throwing up.

“Captain?” the doctor asked as he sat down beside her on the bench, nodding at passersby to assure them that everything was under control. He lowered his voice, “Annulments of this sort are justified when the crew enters the marriage in an altered state, as you know. The regulations require us to dissolve marriages made while individuals were not their ‘real’ selves, and so we worked with the Quarrans to do so.”

“That’s not the problem,” she sighed as she sat up and pushed her hair back from her face with both hands. “It’s not that the annulments were inappropriate. It’s just that . . . I should have been informed of all of this, Doctor. I assure you that I’ll be speaking to Tuvok about this omission at my first opportunity.”

“I’m sorry, Captain. Perhaps I didn’t think it through.”

She shifted to face him. “These marriages. Is there anything else you’ve withheld from me? Anything else that might hit me blindsided?”

“One thing.” He looked terribly uncomfortable.

“Let me guess,” she tried not to let her voice betray the foreboding that gripped her. “I was one of the crew who got married.”

The doctor nodded, unwilling to look her in the eye.

“And the record of my marriage and annulment will be part of what Admiral Jocasta makes available to the crew next week? To me and my . . . ex-husband.”

He nodded again, glancing up at her briefly, “Although I’m not quite sure the term ‘ex-husband’ would apply.”

“I assume that the crew’s journals will have interesting details about our courtship and marriage. And God knows what else.” She stood up, her voice gaining volume as she began to pace back and forth in front of the bench. “Employment problems. Illnesses. Failed romances. Weddings.” She stopped and closed her eyes. “And maybe even the decision to become pregnant and start a family.”

“Captain, we shouldn’t talk about this in public,” the doctor said, getting up and propelling her toward a small alcove, waiting until they had a modicum of privacy before continuing. “As the admiral said, most of the crew has come to terms with what happened on Quarra. These things will be set aside as something in the past-a mere curiosity.”

“The problem is that not everything that happened on Quarra is going to remain in the past.”

“I beg your pardon?”

She narrowed her eyes. “The babies are very ‘real’ in the present and will be even more ‘real’ in the future.” She put her fists on her hips. “Won’t the crew be amazed to find out that the captain was the cold-hearted bitch who refused to carry her own baby? And won’t they be astounded to learn that she wouldn’t change her mind, even when the baby’s life was threatened by complications? Even after the long-suffering father pleaded for her help? Even after the ship returned to the Alpha Quadrant?”

For a moment, the doctor simply opened and closed his mouth in surprise, but then he said, “I’m sure they’ll understand.”

“Will they understand, Doctor? Will they? I’m not even sure I do.” She wrung her hands and turned away from him. “I don’t think Chakotay understands, and I know Taya won’t.”

“Taya?” The doctor frowned, trying to think of when and where he’d heard the name.

“Never mind,” she said, pausing to look at him in despair. “It’s too late now. If the crew sees me as an insensitive bitch, well, I deserve what I get. No one can really avoid the consequences of a decision, you know. Sooner or later ‘the chickens come home to roost,’ as my grandmother used to say, and that’s how it should be. I’m not going to hide the truth any longer.” With that, she turned and walked away from him, ending the conversation. “That’s all, Doctor. I’ll be expecting to hear from you in one week.”

The doctor resisted the urge to follow her and attempt to convince her that everything would work out. She needed time alone to come to terms with what had happened, and he would have another chance to reassure her.

What concerned him was her use of the name Taya when she referred to the child. The EMH remembered that Chakotay intended to use the name “Taya” if the baby was a girl, but he doubted that the captain would ever have gotten to the point of discussing names with her first officer. In addition to that, only he knew the baby was a female, and since he hadn’t told anyone, there was no way the captain could know.

So how had she known? Unless she could see into the future . . . or unless someone had told her about the future.

He knew at once that Admiral Janeway had told her about the baby. He knew that she’d tried to use her knowledge of the future to manipulate the crew, and she wouldn’t have hesitated to use information about the baby to influence the captain. She’d even tried to enlist his help.

The night before their second, and successful, attempt to return the AQ through the nebula, the admiral had activated Voyager’s EMH just hours before the mission was to begin. He became conscious of the sickbay, as he always did when he came online unexpectedly, and quickly ascertained that the facility was empty except for Admiral Janeway.

“If you’re wondering about the Borg virus,” he said, anticipating the reason for her presence, “it won’t be ready for several more hours.”

“That’s not why I’m here.” She fingered an isolinear chip before extending it to him. “I was hoping to be with you when you made use of this information, but my plans have changed.”

He took the chip and sat down at his desk to review the contents, his eyes nearly popping out as the data scrolled by. “Amazing. This is an astounding compilation of data on artificial gestation devices and viral medicine from dozens of different species.”

“All of it collected between here and the Alpha Quadrant. It became a favorite hobby of mine.” Her eyes were luminous with tears. “Perhaps ‘obsession’ would be a better word.”

He nodded, thinking of the tiny embryo in stasis in his lab. For a moment, he considered asking her to tell him what happened to the baby in her future, but then he thought better of it. He could tell that she was already distressed, and he didn’t want to add to her discomfort. He looked up from his screen and said, “This is just a compilation of raw data. I don’t see that you’ve worked toward a real solution to the baby’s problem.”

“That’s true, I haven’t. You see, in my timeline, the maturation chamber failed.” She turned away, suddenly fascinated by the data displayed on a nearby wall panel. “The father was too impatient and frustrated to wait for us to find a solution to the power problems and relied instead on Seven’s ‘stasis’ solution.”

“The chamber failed? You mean . . . the baby died?”

“No, she didn’t die, but she suffered irreparable brain damage. She lived almost three years, although-.” Her voice was a whisper. She cleared her throat. “I don’t know why I picked up all of that research when it was too late to be of any help. Maybe, in the back of my mind, I hoped to make a difference, somehow.”

“It will make a difference.” He looked at the data again, scrolling through page after pace of a detailed index. “However, even with this help, there is still a great deal of work to be done. Essentially, we’re trying to build an artificial womb.”

“I know. That’s why you must force the father to wait until you’re sure the chamber will function properly. Promise me that you’ll make him wait.”

“I promise.” He circled the desk to stand beside her. He’d noticed that she’d referred to the “father” rather than using Chakotay’s name, a deliberate and significant choice. “Have you shown this information to the captain?”

She answered with a short laugh. “No, I haven’t shown it to her or to anyone else. And I don’t want you to show it to her, either. Not until the time is right.”

“If we’re successful in returning to Federation space,” he argued, “perhaps the captain will relent.”

“And carry the baby herself?” She laughed again. “How well do you really know her, doctor?”

He bristled, unwilling to have his captain criticized even by an older version of herself. “Better than you think,” he quipped.

The admiral sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose to ease the headache that threatened to blossom there. “I just meant that she’s unwilling to be perceived as weak or vulnerable, and she’s used to denying herself as a way of atoning for her actions. She’d refuse just to make herself miserable.”

“I can’t disagree with that,” he answered; after all, this sad and tormented woman was the living result of the captain’s habit of self-denial.

“If this precarious plan of hers works and you manage to get home soon, then you can share this with Starfleet medical and help them develop a workable chamber. If the plan fails . . . well, either way, you have the information to help you.”

“Perhaps if you talked to her, you could help her change her mind.”

“Talk to her about the pregnancy?” She shook her head, her eyes sad. “Only one person could sway her to change her mind, but he’s too angry, and it’s simply too late.” She stopped, too embarrassed to continue. “You’ll know when to tell them about this, Doctor. In addition to the raw data, I’ve included a few pictures and a message I made for them. Use them if you must.”

She’d left a short time later, and he’d stored the information in an encrypted file for later use.

Now, as he watched the captain’s figure disappear into her office building, he resisted the urge to run after her and beg her to reconsider her decision. Perhaps the admiral had been right and only Chakotay could change the captain’s mind, but the doctor doubted that the commander would discuss the subject with her again.

He wished he could force the two parents to address their mutual problem together. Chakotay wanted to give his child the best possible chance at life, and the doctor knew that convincing the captain to carry the baby was the only one that was guaranteed to work.

If only Chakotay would swallow his pride and give the captain a chance to change her mind about the pregnancy. If only the captain would realize that she was now in a position to change her mind.

He decided to think of a way to force them to work together.

One week later

In the week that followed her meeting with the EMH and Admiral Jocasta, Kathryn Janeway’s feelings wavered between anger, fear, and resignation.

There were times when she was so furious over the way the doctor had hidden the Quarran information from her that she was tempted to access the doctor’s program and decompile it one byte at a time.

There were times when her anger gave way to fear at how the crew would react to her decisions and how soon someone would leak her involvement with Chakotay to the press. She knew the reporters would have a field day exploiting the fact that a romance had developed between herself and her first officer, even if their memories had been altered when it had occurred, and she dreaded having to answer questions from both journalists and higher command.

Then her fear was replaced by the feelings of helplessness. She’d made a decision that she couldn’t change; too much had happened in the last months of their journey for her to expect Chakotay to relent and give her a second chance. She didn’t even feel that she deserved such an opportunity. Being home again meant taking orders again and living with the consequences of her actions in the Delta Quadrant, both professionally and personally.

Eventually, toward the end of the week, she calmed down enough to discuss the situation with Admiral Jocasta.

“You shouldn’t be embarrassed about what happened on Quarra,” the admiral reassured her. “You decided to give up the pregnancy because of your duties as Voyager’s captain, and anyone could understand the reasoning behind that.”

That was the extent of the professional comfort Admiral Jocasta had offered, yet it wasn’t very helpful in the long run. Janeway still felt sick at her stomach every time she imagined reviewing the Quarran logs made by her “other” self, and she nearly panicked when she thought about the rest of the crew confirming that she’d been involved with Chakotay on Quarra.

Why couldn’t she put it behind her focus on her work? Why did her mind continually drift off to contemplate what kind of intimate details her personal record might contain?

Every time she slipped into an exhausted sleep, she awakened from bizarre nightmares and terrifying scenarios, including press conferences in which she was asked why she had turned her back on a baby that was her own flesh and blood or confrontations with various members of the crew about failing to support her first officer. In spite of Jocasta’s reassurance, she was still not comfortable with the decisions that she’d made, or she wouldn’t be so upset about them.

The day before the Quarran material was to be delivered, Janeway received a last-minute summons to appear at a diplomatic reception for the new Cardassian military attaché.

“Admiral Hayes,” she protested as soon after the orders arrived, “I’m afraid I’ve scheduled some much-needed leave starting tomorrow and won’t be able to attend the reception. In fact, I have the next three days off so that I can deal with some sensitive personal issues.”

“Kathryn, I know you deserve a break, but this will be just a very slight delay-a few hours at most,” he replied. “The Cardassians are still rattling their swords over Voyager’s Maquis, wanting us to turn them over for prosecution, and the President thinks your presence will let them know that we aren’t about to do that.”

Janeway felt her mouth go dry at the mention of the Maquis and the threat posed by the Cardassians who wanted revenge. “Has Chakotay been invited to this reception, as well?”

“We’ve stopped short of that gesture, for now,” Hayes answered, frowning. “Perhaps in a few weeks, once this man knows we mean business, we’ll bring the commander into this. For now, we think you will be sufficient notice that we will not turn the Maquis over to them.”

She was torn, as usual, between her personal desires and her official duties, and decided to make one last plea for a reprieve. “Sir, I wouldn’t ask to be excused except for a matter of great personal import.”

“Captain, I don’t want to make this an order,” the Chief of Staff warned her, “but I will if I have to.”

“No, sir, that won’t be necessary. I’ll be there.”

What choice did she have? The next day, she put on her formal uniform and arrived in New York City to do her duty, as usual. While the members of her crew poured over the details of their lives on Quarra, she was rubbing elbows with the Cardassian attaché and his staff, smiling through gritted teeth at their polite jokes and sampling fresh regova eggs, sem’hal stew and tojal, both served with delicate yamok sauce, and a weird blue and white zabu stew, washed down with Cardassian ale and several shots of a thick, powerful drink called kanar.

Hating the Cardassians as she did and resenting the fact that she had to attend the reception, Janeway quickly worked the room and then found a remote table at the fringe of the celebration where she quietly overindulged in the kanar. She felt sick at her stomach from the strange food and more than a little tipsy from the Cardassian alcohol when she arrived at the transport station in Manhattan when the reception ended.

The transport chief noticed her inebriation and said, “Captain, since you’ve just come from a diplomatic function, I’m authorized to beam you directly to your home address.”

She blushed in embarrassment. “Actually, chief, I’m thinking that the walk from the neighborhood transport station might do me good.”

“You have a point,” he said, grinning at her. “Energizing.”

Although it was only about 7 p.m. in San Francisco, the sun had disappeared behind a heavy bank of clouds that continued to blanket the entire Bay region in a light mist. Janeway “borrowed” one of the umbrellas at the station and walked into the cool damp air, relieved to find the temperature brisk enough to counteract some of the effects of the kanar. However, it did nothing to lessen the growing taste of metal in the back of her throat.

The walk gave her time to think about the Quarran data awaiting her attention. The rest of the crew had received their information hours ago, while she was brooding at the reception, and she wondered whether any of them had decided that their captain was indeed the heartless “Ice Queen” they’d always suspected her to be. She imagined that a few of them might be itching to write her a poison pen letter about her dogged dedication to duty.

She cut through a small park across the street from her house, enjoying the welcome smell of Earthly vegetation and the distinctive aroma of the rain, and then she came to a complete stop. A familiar figure was waiting for her on the front stairs of her house.

Chakotay. He’d obviously been sitting there for quite some time, for his hair, which had grown longer since their return, was plastered to his head by the rain, and his clothing looked to be soaked through. They hadn’t seen each other in over a week, since before they’d become aware of the Quarran files, and so Janeway was initially glad he was there, only to realize a moment later that he must have an ulterior motive. She assumed that he’d long since reviewed his logs and data from Quarra, and wondered what he’d read that had brought him to her door so quickly.

They stared at each for a few moments before he finally cleared his throat and said, “How was the Cardassian reception?”

She snorted. “It would have been fine, except that someone invited a bunch of Cardassians.”

“Too bad someone didn’t warn you about the kanar.”

She felt another blush warm her face. “Is my condition obvious from across the street?”

“Let’s just say you didn’t exactly traverse the park in a straight line and leave it at that.”

“You’re soaking wet,” she said as she crossed the street. “Why didn’t you wait inside?”

“I didn’t know if I’d be welcome.”

His words surprised and dismayed her. She paused to look up at him, and then tapped her door code into the entry pad, gesturing for him to enter ahead of her. “My friends are always welcome in my home, Chakotay.”

“I guess you could say I came over here without thinking it through. I knew you were in New York City, but I decided to come anyway and wait for you in person.”

Janeway leaned the wet umbrella against the wall, noticing the water that was dripping from his clothing onto the floor. “You need to get out of those wet things. There’s a bedroom with a private bath just down that hallway. Phoebe’s husband usually leaves a robe in there that you can use. When you’ve dried off, bring your wet clothes to the kitchen and I’ll throw them in the ‘fresher.”

“I’ll no doubt find you drinking coffee.”

She smiled. “What else? I’ve got to do something to counteract the kanar.”

She watched him disappear into the guest room and then hurried to the kitchen, glancing briefly into her study where she could see the “message waiting” light flashing on her computer console. The reason for his visit had to be something in the Quarran data. Her already pounding headache worsened as he appeared wearing the robe and carrying his wet clothes wrapped in a towel. There was a time, she realized, that she would have fantasized about snuggling into that robe for a much-needed nap.

“I’ll take those.” She took the bundle and gestured at the pot of coffee she’d replicated. “Help yourself to some coffee or replicate whatever you want.”

“Coffee will do.”

She made short work of the clothes and returned to her half-empty mug with a groan of relief, taking a deep drink before she looked up at him for an explanation. She hoped he couldn’t tell that she was feeling more than a little queasy; her stomach felt as if she’d swallowed a tape worm. “It’s always a pleasure to see you, Chakotay.”

“But what the hell am I doing here, right?” His voice was stern, for the first time betraying the anger that simmered beneath the calm surface for the last few months. “I assure you I’m not here for fun.”

Janeway stiffened as the friendly warmth of friendship turned to a chill. “Well, now that you mention it, what the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m here because I couldn’t find the doctor and decompile his program in revenge.”

Her stomach rolled over in a very unpleasant fashion. “The doctor?”

“It seems he’s decided that we should review our Quarran logs together. I need your command codes to get to my information, and I’m betting you need mine to get to yours.”

“You could’ve just contacted me for those, Chakotay. You didn’t have to come in person.”

Chakotay shook his head. “It calls for your thumbprint, too.”

“He never gives up,” she agreed, refilling her mug and then heading for her computer in the adjoining room. “The sooner we get the information to download, the sooner we can get all of this behind us.”

“Aren’t you interested in what happened on Quarra?” he asked as he followed her into the study.

She paused to think, and then pulled the chair out from the desk for him. “I think the word would be apprehensive more than interested.”

“I feel the same way.”

“I imagine the doctor was hoping we’d talk about what happened, don’t you? He’s such an optimist.” She gave him an apologetic grin, wondering if they could revisit the whole situation again without completely destroying what remained of their friendship. “But, honestly, Chakotay, I feel terrible right now. I think something in the kanar has disagreed with me.”

“You aren’t the first human to have that reaction.” He sat down at the desk and began to call up his personal commlink while Janeway stood beside him, unconsciously resting her left hand on his shoulder. She averted her eyes while he entered his codes and pressed his thumb against the appropriate square on the screen. “Your turn,” he said, pushing back from the screen.

Janeway leaned forward as she tapped the appropriate keys and pressed her thumb against the screen, swallowing back the bile that rose to her throat. She gave his shoulder a squeeze. “There. Now you can store the data and look at it when you get home.”

He pulled an isolinear chip from the robe’s pocket and slid it into the memory slot. “Let’s make sure you can get to your logs before I leave.”

“Good idea.”

He frowned when he noticed that the data was not being downloaded. “Have you been having trouble with this memory port?”

“No, I haven’t. Maybe you have to open the file before you can download it.”

“That’s worth a try.” Grumbling under his breath, Chakotay pulled up the file. “I swear, Kathryn, the doctor is simply getting too big for his britches.”

“You’re right. I may have to do some holographic ego trimming. There, the program is active now. You should be able to store it.”

Before Chakotay could enter the appropriate command, the program started up, and the EMH appeared on the screen with a brief announcement about the material they were about to receive-where it had come from and why it was finally being released. Chakotay tapped a dozen different keys to no effect. “I’m locked out.”

“Each message is specially prepared for its recipient,” the doctor concluded. “If you have any questions or concerns after reviewing this data, be sure to contact me or your counselor.”

“Reboot the hard drive,” Janeway suggested.

Chakotay sat back in frustration. “I think we’re stuck with watching this.”

Of all the people Janeway wanted to avoid sharing this experience with, Chakotay was number one on the list. She pushed back the panic that threatened to overwhelm her and was about to suggest severing the power connection when the program came online. It was not at all what either of them had expected. Instead of an index of log entries and files, it was an active program that had been carefully designed by the doctor.

At first, the screen was filled with a compelling photograph of a relaxed and beautiful Kathryn Janeway. Her hair was brushed loose, curling on her shoulders and around her face, and her eyes looked into the lens with a direct and open expression that was both sensual and restrained. After a moment, it was replaced by a second, then a third photo, obviously a series of shots taken by someone who had made a study of her face.

In the midst of the pictures came a narration in Chakotay’s voice: “I never believed in love at first sight until I saw Kathryn and fell in love with her before we even exchanged a word of greeting. She walked into the bar across from the power plant and suddenly I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t see anything but her face as she smiled at me. I was in a trance when I delivered her usual drink to her table and spent the next three hours talking to her, oblivious to the world around me. Even now, weeks later, I count the hours until I can see her again.”

The photos were followed by a short video of Chakotay at the beach, building a sand castle with the help of Naomi Wildman. His skin was golden brown, making his smile almost blinding white in the sunlight. At first, the only sounds were of the sea and his and Naomi’s voices as they discussed the size and arrangement of the castle, but he frequently looked up at the camera with a smile, at which time Kathryn, who was behind the lens, threw suggestions their way.

Then her voice, from a journal: “Tall. Dark. Handsome. That’s what all women claim to be looking for, but Chakotay is so much more than that. Intelligent. Wise. Kind. Insightful. I trusted him instantly, without hesitation, and I knew I could tell him my deepest, most personal secrets without fear of judgment or blame. I never get tired of his company. Never.” A brief pause, followed by a chuckle. “Oh, and sexy as hell. Did I mention how sexy he is? I melt every time he touches me.”

Chakotay and Kathryn Janeway remained as still as statues as they watched their missing lives unfold in front of them. He was unaware of his surroundings, as if everything else in the universe had simply faded into oblivion. She struggled to keep her composure as the world began to lose its cohesion, her head pounding with a growing headache.

These first two longer vignettes were followed by a dozen more short ones, showing them eating together as a couple, dancing at the bar, working to help Tom and B’Elanna paint their new apartment, attending a picnic with many of the Voyager crew, always together, and nearly always side by side.

Then came their wedding-a simple ceremony that took place at the office of the local justice of the peace. Kathryn wore a pale yellow dress that matched Chakotay’s shirt, and their only attendants were Tom and B’Elanna and the Wildmans. Samantha took a video of the event while Naomi whirled into and out of the picture in a dance of innocent joy.

Once the ceremony ended, the newlyweds stepped out of the courthouse into sunlight, their faces beaming with happiness. From Kathryn’s log, they heard: “I can’t wait to be his wife and know that we’ll be together forever. I don’t want to spend another day without him.” And from Chakotay’s: “I don’t just love her; she’s my soul mate. Nothing can come between us-we know each other too well, love each other too deeply. We want to start a family right away; I hope it’s a girl who looks just like her.”

This moment of triumph ended abruptly and was replaced by the familiar face of Admiral Kathryn Janeway, their savior from the future. She spoke directly into the camera, tears shimmering in her eyes. “I’ve told the doctor to use this short clip only if you two refuse to listen to reason, only if Chakotay is too hurt and proud to ask the captain to reconsider her decision about not carrying the baby and only if the captain is too worried about disrupting the developing relationship between Chakotay and Seven to speak up. You both need to remember that there is an innocent child at stake here, a child that, in my timeline, was so damaged by the maturation chamber that she never spoke a word and only lived to be three years old. Watch this, both of you, swallow your pride, and do the right thing.”

The screen was suddenly filled with the face of a beautiful two-year-old girl who was sitting in the lap of an adult. She had expressive brown eyes, long brown hair, and creamy skin, but she refused to smile in spite of the doctor’s cajoling from behind the camera. Then Chakotay, who was holding her, jostled her slightly on his knee and said, “C’mon, Taya, smile for the doctor. You know he won’t give up until you do.”

At first, the little girl gazed back at her father from the corner of her eye, a saucy, yet familiar half-grin on her face, but then she relented and gave the camera a brilliant smile accompanied by the musical trill of a child’s laughter. The screen froze on that perfect smile. Although she had her father’s coloring, she was the spitting image of her mother-Kathryn Janeway.

The room was silent as the ten-minute program came to an end. Chakotay stared at the child’s face that remained on the screen, oblivious to his surroundings as he studied her eyes, her smile, her dimples, as he picked up on the unique blending of his face and Kathryn’s. Finally, he took a breath and leaned back in the desk chair.

“Taya,” he whispered, his heart in his throat. “A little girl, Kathryn. Our baby’s a girl.”

When she didn’t answer, Chakotay turned to find her slumped unconscious on the floor beside him.

Later that night

From within a red haze, Kathryn Janeway heard her mother’s voice. She focused upon the familiar tones, and even though she couldn’t understand the words, she found comfort in knowing that Gretchen was with her, whether in a dream or real life. She enjoyed the musical rhythm of the words, spoken softly nearby, and the deeper answering timbre of a human male. For a moment, she thought she was listening to her father, but then she realized that the man speaking to her mother was Voyager’s EMH. She groaned softly at the wave of disappointment that engulfed her.

“Katie?” Her mother hovered over the biobed. “Doctor, is she waking up?”

“She can hear our voices,” he replied. She heard a tricorder being flipped open. “I’m not sure she understands our words, though.”

“Darling, something you ate at the Cardassian reception made you sick,” Gretchen explained. Kathryn felt her mother’s cool hand stroking her forehead.

“Severe anaphylactic shock,” the doctor corrected her, snapping the tricorder shut again. “Many humans lack an essential enzyme needed to neutralize the toxin in the clanna root that’s used to thicken the zabu stew. Federation chefs use a replicated root that leaves out the enzyme, but this chef wanted to be authentic. Little did he know that his carelessness could kill humans who are severely allergic to clanna root.”

“I can’t believe a professional chef would be so careless,” Gretchen exclaimed, her voice rising with surprise.

“As am I, although a reaction this serious is extremely rare. Luckily, she arrived at the clinic in time.”

Janeway groaned again. Gretchen leaned over her. “Kathryn? Can you hear me?”

When the doctor mentioned Zabu stew, Janeway remembered tasting the acrid blue and white goo and experienced a renewed wave of nausea. She couldn’t have eaten more than a teaspoon or two of the concoction, and yet the pungent flavor seemed to linger on her tongue.

“This will help.” The doctor pressed a hypospray against her neck, and she felt instantaneous relief. “It’s lucky she was with the commander when she passed out.”

The mention of Chakotay brought to mind a child’s face with laughing eyes and dimples, a face that seemed to smile at her from a vague memory or half-forgotten dream. Janeway struggled to wake up and ask who the girl had been, but the drug was too powerful and pulled her back into oblivion.

Later, her full memory of the Admiral’s message came back to her. Although the doctor claimed that she’d passed out from the effects of the Cardassian toxin, Janeway knew that it had been Taya’s dimpled smile that had pushed her over the edge. She could still see the little girl’s face every time she closed her eyes.

The doctor apologized for forcing her to view the pictures of her daughter without proper preparation, and Janeway graciously forgave him, knowing his heart had been in the right place. He prescribed a week’s rest, and so, after spending two days in the hospital, she returned to her apartment where she slept for twenty-four hours straight.

Her mother had coffee waiting when Kathryn finally emerged from her bedroom.

“It’s fresh,” Gretchen told her as she handed over a large steaming mug, “I didn’t start this pot until I heard you in the shower.”

“After the concoctions I drank on Voyager, Mom, I’ll never complain about bad coffee again.” She took a long sip and then noticed the lovely breakfast her mother had prepared-fresh fruit, juice, croissants with fresh butter, and her own homemade strawberry-rhubarb jam. “Oh, this looks wonderful.”

Gretchen watched with great satisfaction as her daughter tore a croissant in half, slathered it with butter and jam, and took a huge bite. “I’ll fix you an omelet, if you’d like.”

“No thanks, Mom. I’d rather just eat a dozen of these and finish the pot of coffee.”

“Suit yourself. I’m just thrilled that you’re awake and eating something.”

“I’m starved.” Janeway slowly buttered another croissant as she realized how long she’d been asleep. “I can’t believe you stayed here for an entire day and night, waiting for me to wake up.”

“Of course, I waited here, darling. What else would I do? If you can’t count on your mother, who can you count on?”

The sweet, flaky bread turned to sawdust in Janeway’s mouth and tears welled up in her eyes as she thought of the image of her own daughter’s smiling face. “Oh, God.”

Her mother reacted with typical maternal compassion. “Oh, Katie, what’s wrong? Are you feeling sick again?”

Kathryn shook her head and pushed back from the table, anxious to be alone and away from food. “I can’t talk about it, Mom.”

“Is it something from Voyager?” her mom asked, following her into the living room. “Is it classified?”

“No, it’s just something I can’t bear to talk about.” She flopped onto the sofa, her arm across her eyes. “I’m just too upset, Mom.”

“It’s personal matter, then.” Gretchen, who had followed her daughter from the kitchen, took a seat on the coffee table so that she could continue the conversation. “You know you can tell me anything, Kathryn, and I won’t breathe a word to anyone else.”

Kathryn shifted on the sofa so that she was lying on her side. She studied her mother’s face, remembering all the times she’d cried on her shoulder and told her deepest, darkest secrets, and how her mother knew just what to say or just what to do to make everything better. If only her mother could solve this problem. “I guess that’s what mothers do-good mothers, anyway. They put their children first and sacrifice their own dreams.”

“Is this about motherhood, Katie? Are you worried that it’s too late for you to be a mother?”

All at once, almost without Kathryn’s volition, the story of her captivity on Quarra began spill out. Gretchen listened in silent torture as she heard of Kathryn’s impossible dilemma and her ultimate decision to terminate her maternal rights. By the time the story ended, both women sat on the sofa holding each other as they cried.

“Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

“It’s been hard, Mom, to put aside what I want to do in favor of what I have to do.”

“You said that the embryo is in stasis, right? So it isn’t too late for you to carry the child to term.”

“I could do that except that I terminated my parental rights.”

“You did that while you were still in the Delta Quadrant, but now that you’re home, you wouldn’t make the same decision, would you?”

“I don’t know.”

Gretchen frowned. “You don’t know if you would carry a baby that needs you, and only you, if it is to have a chance for a normal life?”

“Well, when you put it that way-”

“What other way can I put it?” She studied her daughter’s profile and gently pushed her hair away from her face and behind her ear. “You aren’t sounding like my girl. She would do anything to preserve a life, even one that isn’t her own flesh and blood. So tell me what’s really the matter, okay?”

Kathryn laughed and glanced briefly at her mother. “Will I ever be able to get something past you?”

“Probably not.” She smiled, but when her daughter remained silent, she said, “It can’t be the baby. She’s your baby, no matter how she was conceived or who the father was, and I know that you’d accept and love her. So, I’m guessing that you must be upset about the father.”

Kathryn groaned with irritation. “Chakotay is a fine Starfleet officer and a good friend. I couldn’t choose a better man to be the father of my baby.”

“All right.” Gretchen nodded. “But having a baby like this, without being married, doesn’t really fit your expectations, does it?”

Kathryn stood up and walked to the window where she stood contemplating the slow rain that was falling. “I always thought I’d be married to my child’s father, Mom, and that we’d all live together in the same house-the way I was raised.”

“Katie, I know how much you’ve dreamed of having that, but you know as well as I do that life doesn’t always work out the way we want it to. It seems to me that you have a chance to have part of your dream come true thanks to this baby.” Kathryn didn’t answer, but simply stared out the window into the distance.

Like most mothers, Gretchen felt her children’s pain as if it was her own, and she knew what Kathryn was thinking about-recalling her first fiancé, Justin, who had been brutally taken from her before they could even begin a life together, and also Mark, whom she’d lost as a result of her exile in the Delta Quadrant. Kathryn knew about life’s unfairness better than anyone, and after a period of grieving, she usually stopped feeling sorry for herself and made the best of it. She just had to give herself permission to carry on.

“Katie, does Chakotay accept what’s happened? Does he intend to participate in the baby’s life?”

“Chakotay’s thrilled about the baby,” she replied softly, “and he’ll be a wonderful father, but he’s now involved with someone else, someone very dear to me, so-.” Her voice trailed off.

“Hmph.” Gretchen let her daughter retreat into own her thoughts while she got up and fetched more coffee and a plate of food from the kitchen. She fussed with putting away the dirty dishes as she went over Kathryn’s story again and tried not to get too excited about the prospect of an unborn granddaughter. Then a thought struck her-Kathryn had married Chakotay on Quarra, and she would only marry a man she loved. While she’d claimed that the she and the woman on Quarra had nothing in common, she also seemed terribly upset that Chakotay was involved with someone else.

Was it possible, Gretchen wondered, that she and the woman on Quarra had more in common than she was ready to admit?

She returned to the living room and put an arm around her daughter’s shoulder. “Katie, the problem is that you’re in love with Chakotay, isn’t it? You’ve dreamed of the two of you being together and having a family.”

Kathryn leaned against her mother with a barely repressed groan. “I would never fall in love with my first officer, Mother. I just wouldn’t let it happen.”

Gretchen held her closer, recognizing her daughter’s usual habit of hiding behind her Starfleet facade. “That was the captain speaking. I thought I was talking to my Katie.”

Her daughter looked up at her with tears streaming from her eyes. “I can’t be in love with him, Mom. I can’t have his child this way if I love him. How can I have his baby, and not have him?”

“Oh, Katie,” her mother whispered, pulling her into a fierce embrace, her heart breaking for her daughter’s pain. “We’ll have to find a way.”

After witnessing Janeway’s brush with death, Chakotay had disappeared. He’d called for emergency medical help and had kept her alive until the rescue personnel had arrived, but then he’d simply faded into the shadows. No one, not even Seven of Nine, had seen him since.

Janeway used some of her recovery time to pour over the logs and records she’d made on Quarra. It was obvious that the Kathryn Janeway who’d written those logs had been completely and passionately in love. The attraction had been immediate, and the consummation had quickly followed. They’d spent the night together after just three dates and only five days after their first meeting, and they’d apparently never regretted their quick decision to be together. She’d never sounded so happy, never in all her life.

While Janeway couldn’t imagine committing to anyone so quickly and completely, she had to admit that the woman who wrote those logs was very much like her Voyager counterpart, in both interests and attitude. She’d worked hard at her job at the power plant and had spent much of her free time researching the technology so that she could understand the system and begin to make suggestions to improve its design. She’d reached out to the other humans on Quarra with the deliberate intent of creating a community among them. And she’d grabbed at her chance for happiness with Chakotay, anxious to put down roots and start a family with a man who seemed to fulfill her every dream of manliness.

Janeway imagined that Chakotay’s logs mirrored her own. She’d blushed when she read how she had brought about their first night together-by pulling away from his chaste embrace on her sofa and quickly and deliberately removing her sweater as his eyes nearly popped out of his head. She could only assume that he’d been delighted with her open and passionate nature, since he’d married her and fathered her child, but she wondered how she would react when, and if, he ever surfaced from his seclusion now that they were on Earth.

She had no doubt that he would eventually appear at her door. Wherever he was and whatever he was doing, Chakotay was not going to let her evade him much longer, and she wasn’t sure how she would answer the elemental question he would ask: Isn’t this exactly what would have happened between them if the Starfleet/Maquis animosity, the demands of commanding Voyager, and the overriding need to put the crew first hadn’t forced them to go against their own secret wishes and desires?

And then there would be the inevitable second question: Shouldn’t they acknowledge and accept this unborn child?

The next day, she awoke from a late afternoon nap on her sofa to find a familiar figure leaning against the door frame.

“You.” Her voice sounded rusty, and she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “Chakotay?”

“I let myself in. Please don’t ask me to leave.”

She lay back on the sofa, draping an arm over her eyes and putting aside the niceties. “Let’s get this over with.”

“All right. After we watched the admiral’s version of our life on Quarra, you died in my arms, and I nearly lost my mind. It happened once before, and watching you die twice was simply more than I could take.”

“I didn’t die, Chakotay, either time.”

“Oh, yes, you did. Both times.” He shivered and crossed his arms over his chest. “This time, your face was as white as chalk. Your lips were blue. And your eyes were open, fixed and dilated. You died. I watched you.”

“All evidence to the contrary. I’m very much alive, as you can see.”

“Don’t belittle what I went through, Kathryn. The doctor says that if you’d arrived at the clinic one minute later, you would have been gone for good. I keep thinking, what if you’d been alone? What if I hadn’t come to your house so I could gain access to the Quarran files?”

“But I wasn’t alone, Chakotay. You were there.” She raised herself up on an elbow to look at him. “Don’t borrow trouble by imagining unsuccessful scenarios.”

“Kathryn, that’s not the point.”

She fell back. “Make your point, then, for God’s sake.”

“My point is this—seeing you die forced me to rethink our recent past, and it made me wonder why we’ve let what happened on Quarra come between us.”

“What are you talking about? How can something we don’t even remember come between us?”

He sat down on the chair that was positioned near the sofa. “Even though we don’t remember it, we know we were married and that we decided to have a baby. Ever since we found out about the pregnancy, you’ve been withdrawn from me and unwilling to discuss any of it.”

“The problem wasn’t the pregnancy. The problem was that as Voyager’s captain, I refused to go through with the pregnancy, remember?” She turned her face away from him, studying the weave of the sofa’s back cushion. “I gave up my rights to the baby. I knew at the time that my decision was permanent, and I’m not asking anyone to give me a second chance.”

“Why not?” He waited for an answer a few moments before continuing. “Why haven’t you asked me to let you reconsider your decision?”

“I have my reasons.”

“Do you mind if I ask you to tell me what they are? After all, it’s our baby we’re talking about.”

“You know why. There weren’t enough hours in a day for me to be Voyager’s captain and a mother, too, not if I hoped to do either job well.”

He nodded, sitting back in the chair. “Those were your reasons while we were still on the ship, but, you aren’t the captain anymore. We’re home safe and sound, and the embryo is still in stasis.”

She shifted to look at him, “You’re point?”

“Now you have time to be her mother.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“It is simple, Kathryn. She’s your baby.”

“I wish you’d stop saying that. She belongs to that woman on Quarra, the one who was free to love you.” Janeway took a ragged breath and closed her eyes. She wanted to tell him how hard it would be for her to be the mother of his child but not the woman in his life. She wanted to tell him that having his child was only half of her dream, and not even the better half. But, she couldn’t tell him any of that. She’d pushed him away, and now he was with the one person in the universe she could not bring herself to hurt. Finally, she opened her eyes and looked at him. “We’re not just talking about eight months of pregnancy and childbirth, but a lifetime of responsibility. Don’t you understand that having a baby means that we’ll be tied to each other for the rest of our lives?”

“Of course, I understand that.” He leaned toward her, resting his arms on his knees. “Are you implying that Taya is going to be a burden and never a blessing?”

She frowned, shaking her head in defiance. “What about Seven of Nine? Won’t she feel threatened by your having another woman, and eventually two women, interfering in your life?”

“Seven has worked hard to perfect the maturation chamber for Taya. She’s a compassionate and understanding person beneath the frosty Borg exterior, a fact you know better than anyone.”

“Does she understand that I’ll be the baby’s mother? Does she realize that I might get in the way.” She sat up, pushing her tangled hair out of her face.

“‘Get in the way’ of what?”

“I might become a problem between you and Seven.” She refused to look up at his face. “Not that I would never want to do that.”

“I think that’s our problem, Kathryn, not yours. Suffice it to say that I won’t let that happen.”

“So you say, but I’m not convinced that the reality of the situation has sunk in.”

“I’m not sure you understand the reality of the situation, Kathryn.” He gripped his hands together and studied them. “You see, Seven of Nine can’t have children.”

She stared at him. “I thought-. The doctor said that with time, she could have a baby.”

“He has since changed his mind. That’s why this child is important to both of us. It’s quite possibly the only child we’ll ever have, and we want to be there for her.”

Janeway lay back down and stared blindly at the ceiling. “She won’t belong to you and Seven. She’ll be yours and mine. Ours. Seven will be a step-parent.”

“We understand that. I’m assuming that you’ll have custody of her most of the time, and I know that Seven will always respect the fact that you’re the baby’s mother.”

Janeway rubbed her temples. “The situation is just too complex to take seriously.”

“Complex because we aren’t together as a married couple?”

Janeway could feel a blush crawling up her neck. “That’s part of it. I never thought I’d raise a child with someone who’s just a friend. I mean, I always thought the man who fathered my children would be my husband.”

“I was your husband when I fathered this child.”

“Well, yes, I know, but I meant after the conception, too.”

He shrugged and gave her a dismal look. “I feel the same way. I expected to be married to my child’s mother, or at least be in a serious, committed relationship with her.” He studied his hands again, and the tension between them became almost unbearable. “I guess you’ve had a chance to review the records from Quarra.”

Because of the passionate and explicit material she’d read about their courtship and marriage, Janeway found it impossible to look him in the eye. She knew what details her logs and pictures revealed about their torrid romance, and she imagined that his were just as unambiguous as hers had been. Somehow, she kept her voice calm, “I’ve gone through the logs and records.”

“It would seem that we-,” he paused, considering the best term to use, “we ‘became involved’ with each other very quickly.”

“Very quickly.” She stood up and walked to the window, grateful to have the expression on her face hidden from him. “It’s out of character for me to commit to a relationship that fast. It makes me think that I wasn’t my real self.”

“So you’ve said.” Chakotay had a determined expression on his face. “But I’m not sure you’re right.”

She stiffened slightly. “I beg your pardon?”

“Who says we weren’t still basically the same people? Maybe the Quarran changes simply removed some artificial reticence that kept us from acknowledging and acting on our mutual attraction to each other.”

“What ‘artificial reticence’ are you talking about?”

“Anything that kept us from facing the truth. Starfleet protocol. The adversarial beginning to our partnership. Mark Johnson. The stress and strain of running a ship in hostile territory.”

“The several women you sampled en route.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Kathryn knew she’d made a mistake. She’d let him know that his involvement with other women had bothered her, and so she added, lamely, “Not that it was any of my business.”

“I’m glad you noticed. I noticed the men you sampled, too.” He studied her carefully, and she knew she was fidgeting. “Why is it so hard for you to admit that we cared about each other? Are you afraid that Starfleet’s ‘protocol police’ will put a blot on your record because you fell in love with your first officer?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He was beside her in an instant, trapping her at the window so that she had no choice but to look up at him. “This concern over hurting Seven’s feelings and this worry about complicating our personal lives is just a cover-up. You want to pretend that we’ve never been anything more to each other than a captain and first officer, but our actions on Quarra bring that claim into serious doubt. You want to believe that what happened was an aberration, not our true feelings finally finding expression. And you want to punish me for moving on, for being involved with Seven of Nine and finding happiness in the Delta Quadrant while you were trapped being the captain.” He stepped back, struggling to control his temper. “Well, find a way to take it out on me without hurting our innocent child in the process.”

“Get away from me.” She pushed him back farther, furious that he would dare allude to the attraction that had remained an unacknowledged secret throughout their seven years together. “I’m not trying to punish you for anything. I’m just trying to keep control over my life, that’s all. I’m just trying to avoid being the latest piece of juicy gossip on the Voyager grape vine.”

“Surely you know that the crew, your family, and the rest of the Federation will understand how the baby’s conception came about. They won’t blame us for breaking protocol, if that’s your worry.”

“Of course, I know that. I’m not ashamed that it happened, but they’ll think that we were involved on Voyager, and we weren’t.”

“Believe me, Kathryn, I know that.” He narrowed his eyes. “Does it bother you to be the mother of my child? Me, a rebel and Maquis criminal? If so, we can put our parental duties into a nice sterile legal document-a joint custody agreement-and have someone impartial serve as the baby’s representative.”

“As if we’re getting a divorce?” In spite of her previous fury, tears of disappointment filled her eyes. For years she had listened to dozens of her colleagues argue with their former spouses over the details of such custody agreements, and she’d never known a child that wasn’t put in the middle at one time or another, torn between the needs of the parents or grandparents, guilty for making one parent sad by choosing to be with the other. She had promised herself never to put her child through that kind of torment and yet here she was, doing just that. “Is that the best we can do?”

“I’m trying to find a solution here.” Chakotay growled in frustration, throwing his hands in the air as he turned away from her. “You say you don’t want to carry the baby because the two of us aren’t involved in a traditional relationship. You bemoan the fact that Taya will be a complication as we try to find other people. You’re unwilling to commit yourself emotionally to this pregnancy, reluctant to take on the responsibilities of being a mother, and unenthusiastic about reducing our responsibilities to a clear impersonal written agreement.” He turned to face her, his eyes flashing. “You tell me how we can do this, Kathryn! Tell me what we have to do to give our child a chance to be born healthy and live a long, happy life!”

To her complete embarrassment, Janeway burst into tears. “I don’t know,” she sobbed, drawing the last vowel out into a wail. “I don’t know what to do, Chakotay. Damn the Quarrans for their meddling in our lives, for putting us in an impossible situation.”

For a moment, Chakotay simply stared at her. He’d never seen Kathryn Janeway cry about anything and found the sight absolutely astonishing. But then he moved toward her, putting an arm around her shoulders and leading her to the sofa where she sobbed into his shoulder.

“I didn’t mean to yell and make things worse,” he soothed her, rubbing her back as she cried. “I know you’re still feeling under the weather because of your illness, and God knows I’m just as frustrated by this situation as you are.”

“I know you are,” she mumbled, finally looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “Do you have a handkerchief?”

He shifted slightly as he fished a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her, smiling as she noisily blew her nose. “I think it’s time to really talk this through, don’t you?”

“I guess so.” Janeway pulled away from him, leaving her arm along the back of the sofa as she turned slightly toward him. “I mean, the situation involves both of us equally.”

“And only us, Kathryn. No one else matters-not family or crew or Starfleet. Not Seven of Nine or anyone you might meet in the future.”

“Okay.” She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. “It’s time to put our heads together and find a solution.”

“I’m going to be brutally honest, Kathryn. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this since we saw the admiral’s message a few days ago, and I’m still unable to resolve what’s happened in my mind. Our beautiful child was the product of a relationship that never existed as far as we’re concerned, but she’s real, and she deserves a chance at life.”

“Yes, I feel the same way.” She rubbed her temple with her fingers. “She’s an adorable child. I hate to admit how often or for how long I’ve stared at her picture, but she only reminds me of what I don’t have—the chance to have a complete family with her.”

“We have a strong friendship, Kathryn, based on years of working together.” He sighed deeply and gave her an apologetic look. “When I realized that you were the mother of my child, I imagined that the solution to the virus problem would be so simple. I didn’t think you would refuse to carry our baby once you knew about the complications we faced.”

“I wanted to, Chakotay, believe me. But I’d already decided it was impossible.”

“I just didn’t understand, and I’m afraid I held it against you. I applied pressure when I should have respected your decision and backed away.”

“You had no idea we’d be home in a matter of months. You were trying to do what you thought was best for the baby, and I knew that.”

“Kathryn, I want you to rethink your decision now that the situation has changed. If you’ll just be her mother, I know that Taya will bring us happiness and fulfillment.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. “You’d let me do that? You’d let me be her mother?”

“She’s your baby, too.”

Kathryn buried her face in her hands as she struggled to regain control of her emotions. “And we would parent her together.”

“I think we could do that. We have a few months to work out the details, and we have friends who have gone through similar arrangements. They can tell us about the mistakes we need to avoid, situations we can anticipate in advance.”

“I won’t do this halfway, Chakotay. If I’m going to carry this baby, then I’m going to be her mother, no questions asked.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less. And I intend to be involved at every step of the way.”

She turned to face him, still wavering. “And Seven is willing to accept this? She’s willing to let you be connected to me this way and for us to share custody of the baby?”

“She knows how much I want this child. She loves me, and she loves you, too, Kathryn. She trusts us to do the right thing.”

Janeway felt exhausted and disheartened, perhaps at the prospect of being a single parent, perhaps at the complications she knew would plague her personal life for the rest of her days. She gave him a brave smile. “I guess I’m going to experience motherhood.”

“And all the joys that motherhood entails.”

Janeway wilted slightly, suddenly feeling a little woozy. “I can’t do it right away, Chakotay. I’ll need time to regain my strength and find an assignment that will accommodate my pregnancy.”

“Of course.” He put an arm around her. “I guess that means no more space duty in the near future.”

“I’ve had plenty of that, thank you very much.” She closed her eyes a moment as she tried to regain her equilibrium. “I can’t believe I’m still reeling from that Cardassian enzyme.”

“They said it would take a few weeks.”

“Well, you know I always try to beat the odds.” At his smirk, she put a hand on his arm. “Do you want to be involved with the pregnancy? Listen to the heartbeat? Be there for the sonograms? Come into the delivery room as my birthing coach?”

“Would you mind if I did?”

“Of course not. She’s your baby, too, and even if she wasn’t, I’d be thrilled to have my best friend serve as my coach.”

Chakotay looked away, his eyes filling with tears. “Kathryn, you have no idea how much this means to me. Except for my sister, Taya will be the only family I have.”

“Oh, Chakotay,” she answered, putting her arms around him and cradling his head on her shoulder. “There are many of us who consider you part of our families.”

They sat in the gathering darkness with their arms around each other, each of them coming to terms with the new relationship they were about to forge. Kathryn imagined what the pregnancy would require of her and considered how drastically the rest of her life would be affected. She hoped that they could work out the demands of sharing custody of their daughter, and she promised herself that she would always put Taya first.

Chakotay took her hand and looked up at her with his heart in his eyes. “Thank you again.”

“I should thank you—for giving me a chance to change my mind.” She pulled away from him and patted his cheek. “I was worried about keeping in touch with you once we went our separate ways. I’m thinking Taya will keep us close over the years.”

“I wonder if our parenting styles will be compatible.”

“I guess we’ll find out.” Janeway stifled a yawn. “We should probably talk that through in the meantime.”

“Speaking of time, what time is it?” Chakotay wondered, checking the clock. “Wow. I had no idea I’d been here this long. Seven will be wondering if I got lost.” Chakotay studied her face, looking at her as if he would never see her again.

“Is something wrong?”

“Have you wondered, since looking at the Quarran records, whether things might have worked out differently for us? I mean, we seemed to be completely besotted with each other when we didn’t have everything else to come between us.”

“It was almost too good to be true, wasn’t it?” she nodded. “I kept thinking that we were almost too perfectly matched.”

Chakotay frowned. “What are you saying?”

“The Quarran doctors were experts at repressing memories that might create a problem in their workforce. Why couldn’t they also accentuate tendencies that would keep the problematic members of the crew happy?” She watched his face as he tried to understand what she meant. “Think about it. A female captain and a male first officer? We were the two people most likely to have leadership potential, so why not do whatever is necessary to make us blissfully happy right where we were. They would have known about our close friendship and our unexplored attraction for each other.”

“Kathryn, what a devious mind you have.” He sat back and relaxed. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Maybe you aren’t devious enough?” she laughed. “Maybe our being together was a dream, or a fantasy, that we both nurtured for awhile, and the Quarrans picked up on that dream to keep us happy.”

“New Earth,” he repeated, a sad look in his eyes. “You nurtured a fantasy, too?”

She smirked. “Are you kidding? You’re a handsome devil, you know, and I’m only human.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, giving her a dimpled grin. “I always forget that about you.” At her look of mock irritation, he continued, “But, you have a point about the Quarrans. If the captain and first officer are blissfully married and expecting a baby, they wouldn’t think to question why they were on Quarra or how they got there.”

“Exactly.” She sighed. “But, that doesn’t lessen our responsibility to the baby. She’s the most innocent victim of all.”

They talked a few more minutes, deciding when she would inform the EMH of their plans and how they would coordinate the implantation of the embryo. Finally, when Chakotay realized that she was practically asleep on her feet, he gave her a fierce hug and left for home.

Janeway was so exhausted by the length and emotional nature of Chakotay’s visit that she felt physically ill. Less than ten minutes after his departure, she crawled into bed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. Several hours later, at precisely two o’clock in the morning, Janeway’s eyes opened and she sat straight up in bed.

“I can’t be a mother this way!” she cried into the darkness, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I can’t!”

She tossed and turned until the first rays of the sun slanted into the room and fell on the small photo of Taya that she’d put on her bedside table. She rolled over and stared at the child’s face as the barriers in her heart finally dissolved completely. The only things standing between her and her daughter were selfishness and petty disappointment.

She picked up the picture and gently touched the glass. “For you, Taya. I’ll do this for you.”

Two days later

The faculty offices at the academy were usually deserted during the early morning hours, but Kathryn Janeway knew that her former security chief made a habit of arriving before dawn. She found a comfortable seat in the department foyer and waited for his arrival, sending up a quiet thank you to whoever on the staff had left the coffee maker set on automatic the night before. She was on her second cup when Tuvok rounded the corner.

“Captain Janeway,” he said, in a tone of voice that revealed no surprise at her sudden appearance. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I probably should have called first, but I came on the spur of the moment.”

“I see you found the coffee,” he intoned, raising his eyebrow as he walked past her toward his office. “Did you finish the pot?”

Janeway laughed as she warmed the coffee in her mug and then followed him down the short hallway to his office. “And people say Vulcans don’t have a sense of humor. I left at least half the pot.”

The Vulcan circled his desk and waited for Janeway to sit down before he took a seat. “You seem to be fully recovered from your recent illness.”

“I’m better, but not back to normal yet.”

“It’s unfortunate that the Cardassian cook was so careless in his food preparation.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was deliberate.” She took a long sip of her coffee. “Good thing I’m not paranoid.”

The Vulcan looked at her expectantly, yet showed his usual patience with his human friend. “What is the human saying? ‘Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they aren’t after you.'”

She smiled. “And your health? You’ve had no more signs of your illness?”

“None since I underwent the fal-tor-voh. But as you may recall, I must remain vigilant for signs of recurrence for the rest of my life.” He folded his hands on his desk and waited for her to speak. All around them, the academy was preparing for a full day of classes, and the pulse of the building was beginning to speed up. They could hear the sound of other faculty members arriving for work in the outer office, and the sidewalks in the courtyard were filling with cadets.

Janeway leaned forward to place her empty mug on his desk, a brief expression of exasperation crossing her face. “Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m here at such an early hour?”

“I assumed that you would tell me when you were ready.”

“As if you can’t guess what’s troubling me.”

Tuvok raised a brow. “Does it have something to do with the Quarran records that were released to the crew?”

“What else?” She slumped in the chair, propping her head on a fist. “You knew from the first that I was one of the mothers, didn’t you?”

“I suspected as much, since I saw you and the commander together on the planet, but it wasn’t confirmed until recently.”

“Why didn’t you warn me about the dangerous waters I was in?”

“What would you have had me say, Captain? You’d made it clear to the entire crew that you were unwilling to become involved with anyone as long as we were trapped in the Delta Quadrant. I had no reason to believe that you would reconsider that decision, especially not when this particular situation was forced upon you by the Quarran manipulation of your memory.”

“But this situation involved the life of a baby. And my decision cost me my best friend.”

“If you’re referring to Commander Chakotay, then I must disagree. I believe the commander is still and will always be your friend. What you have lost is the potential for a more intimate relationship with him.”

Janeway sat back in shock, tears burning in her eyes at his uncharacteristic and matter-of-fact invasion of her privacy. “A more intimate relationship?”

“Captain, have you forgotten that we’ve shared a mind meld since your sojourn on New Earth.”

She felt a blush crawling up her neck. “I thought that Vulcans never delved into private thoughts during mind melds.”

“We don’t actively seek them out, but we are, nonetheless, aware of them. In any event, I haven’t shared your private thoughts with anyone but you, so I haven’t technically betrayed your privacy.”

She gave him a level look, her previous irritation rapidly replaced by righteous indignation. “I don’t deny that I was attracted to him, but I gave up on our being together, Tuvok, years ago.”

“I disagree.” The Vulcan, who was her oldest and most-trusted friend, never allowed her to dodge the truth, and as much as she resented having reality pointed out to her in unemotional terms, he knew that she depended on him to do just that. He also suspected that she had come to him for just that reason—to confront and accept the truth—and so he pushed on. “You may have consciously given up on the possibility of being with him, Captain, but your heart held out hope that our return to the Alpha Quadrant would result in an opportunity to explore a relationship.”

She groaned and briefly hid her face in her hands. “Why would I hold onto a dream like that when it’s detrimental to my own well-being?”

“Why, indeed. My observation has been that many humans persist in pursuing their heart’s desire, even though doing so becomes a source of considerable pain.”

“And you think that’s what I’ve done.”

The Vulcan arched an eyebrow at the challenge in her tone of voice. “Didn’t you just admit that you’d given up on your future with the commander?”

With that comment, Janeway stood up and began to pace, back and forth in front of Tuvok’s desk, trying to think of a way to broach the real reason for her presence in his office. Finally, she stopped, fists on her hips, and found him watching her with an expression of mild expectation. “I’ve decided to carry the baby.”

“I’m not surprised. Knowing you as I do, I would expect you to do nothing less than to accept the child and remain involved in its upbringing.”

“Even though Chakotay is now involved with Seven of Nine?”

The Vulcan studied her face, and Kathryn knew what he was going to say, even before he opened his mouth. “There is an ancient Vulcan saying—our destination changes as we choose our paths. Your own choices have brought you to this crisis, Captain.”

“The Quarrans gave me no choice,” she fumed as she brought her right fist into her left palm with an audible smack. “I wouldn’t be in this predicament if it weren’t for their interference in my life.”

“True, but that was just the first step. Every step since your return from Quarra has been of your choosing.” He paused to let that sink in. “You will accept the baby as your own.”

“Tuvok, it’s so much my own child that only I can carry it.”

“And you are ready to form a blood bond with the commander?”

“A bond? You mean marriage?”

“I mean parenthood.”

She sat down, her heart heavy in her chest. “Do I have a choice?”

“Probably not. Since you know what you must do, Captain, give yourself wholly to it. Perhaps this situation seems contrived and forced upon you, but I suggest that you put aside your reservations and embrace the opportunity to be a mother. After all, it’s something you’ve always desired, and the father is not only willing to support you in raising the child, but he is someone you care for deeply.”

“You mean that I’ve made my bed, so now I have to lie in it,” she nodded with a sigh. “I guess it could be worse.”

“Indeed, Captain. It could.” He looked up to find a cadet hovering outside his office door. “Unless there are other issues you need to discuss, I have an appointment with a student.”

“Oh, of course.” She stood up, unconsciously smoothing her uniform. “I just stopped by on my way to talk to Seven of Nine.”

“I wish you the best in this endeavor, Captain, and offer my counsel whenever you feel you need it. I look forward to meeting this special child.”

Touched by his comment, Janeway blinked back tears. “You know, I’m looking forward to meeting this child, too.”

Six weeks later

Voyager’s EMH stood in the laboratory of the small Starfleet Clinic in Indianapolis while Janeway and Chakotay waited in an examination room next door. He hummed happily as he reviewed the records of Janeway’s latest scans, checking one last time to be sure that her body had been adequately prepared to receive the embryo, and then turned to Seven of Nine, who stood beside him.

“The captain has been unusually cooperative during the tedious hormonal prelude to pregnancy. I’m hopeful she’ll continue to submit to regular examinations during the next eight months.”

“I had no idea the preparation of her body would be so intensive,” Seven of Nine replied.

“Neither did she.” He glanced toward the examination bay where Janeway and Chakotay waited. “If it were a simple task to carry a child, we would have built the maturation chamber easily.”

“Or I could have carried it.”

The EMH turned from his computer console and studied Seven’s troubled expression. “Are you having second thoughts about this situation? If so, now is the time to raise your objections.”

The former drone raised a brow in scorn. “And delay the birth of Chakotay’s child indefinitely? Impossible.”

“It wouldn’t be an indefinite delay, just a few months so that you are both prepared for the demands being placed upon you.”

She shook her head. “I’ve talked about this enough, Doctor, with Chakotay and the captain, and there’s nothing more to be said. They assure me that we’ll be able to handle the joint custody of the child, and I have no choice but to believe them.”

“Neither of them would purposely hurt you.”

“Not purposefully, no.” She sighed and glanced past his shoulder toward the examination room. “But I’ve learned a great deal about emotions since you removed the Borg dampener, and I know that great pain can be inflicted by the most innocent and blameless actions.”

The doctor turned away from her, observing Chakotay and Janeway talking in the next room as they awaited the beginning of the procedure. “Have they done something to upset you?”

“Yes, but not on Earth, and not on Voyager.” At his look of confusion, she continued, “Like you, I saw them together as a couple on Quarra, and while they are unable to remember what their marriage was like, I find it impossible to forget.”

“I understand,” the doctor replied, his voice tinged with sympathy as Seven’s confusing behavior during Voyager’s last months came into focus. “Did your observations of their relationship have something to do with your decision to become involved with the commander?”

Seven glanced away. “I’d hoped to form a bond with him like the one he and the captain had on Quarra. But I’m beginning to understand that such a strong link is the exception rather than the rule.”

“Like catching lightning in a bottle.” The doctor put a comforting hand on her arm.

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“I mean that what the captain and commander had on Quarra is extremely unusual, so rare that the captain thinks that it might have been enhanced by the Quarran’s manipulation of their memories. In any event, ‘love matches’ like the one they had are the ideal that seldom occurs in the real world.”

She gave him a level look. “And yet, I wonder whether they would be as happy together now, if they would only consider it a possibility.”

“You underestimate yourself, Seven. Chakotay has chosen to be with you, after all.”

“Only because the captain turned him down for seven years.” She looked past the doctor into the treatment room where Chakotay stood beside Janeway’s biobed. “Their friendship is unusually strong, and I can’t help but think that they might be happy-.”

“Stop it,” the doctor interrupted her with a scowl. “Their friendship has not prevented some monumental arguments. At times, I wondered if they would speak to each other once their command partnership ended.”

“Even so, the bond between them remains strong.” She sighed and nodded toward his computer screen. “We should complete this procedure before they wonder what has become of us.”

The doctor returned wearily to his work, the joy of the moment totally dashed by Seven’s reluctance. “Give yourself time, Seven. After all, it’s still a new relationship.”

“And one that will be forever complicated by the child and her mother.”

He glanced at her in despair. “She’ll be a blessing, Seven. You’ll see.”

“I’m reserving judgment.”

“Seven, I’m deeply troubled by your pessimism. It would help to talk to someone you trust about your feelings of ambivalence, if not Chakotay, then perhaps a trusted counselor, or even your old, reliable EMH.”

She gave him a small smile. “I’ll get on your calendar.”

“Excellent!” He beamed at her as she gazed again at the couple in the sickbay, a discouraged look on her face.

“Do you have time tomorrow?” she whispered.

In the next room, Janeway and Chakotay were unaware of the gloomy conversation in the lab.

“Are you ready to do this?” Chakotay asked. He stood beside the biobed holding her hand, as he had done several times during the last two weeks as she’d been injected with hormones needed to prepare her body for the pregnancy. He’d been amazed at the amount of time and effort that had gone into the arrangements and with the captain’s willingness to endure it all without a word of complaint.

“Would it make any difference whatsoever if I said no?” she replied with a small shake of her head.

“Probably not.” Chakotay chuckled and squeezed her hand. “To be honest, I’m not sure I’m ready, either. After waiting so long, I can’t believe that we’re finally getting started.”

She closed her eyes and thought about all she’d been through in the last six weeks. She could still see the barely repressed smile on Phoebe’s face when she’d told her about her unplanned pregnancy, and had been relieved when their mother’s barely-restrained excitement had prevented her sister from teasing her. She was even more grateful when her mother volunteered to explain how her pregnancy had come about to her aunts, uncles, and cousins.

She endured endless rounds of questioning from the admiralty as she’d negotiated for a job that would have both regular hours and could be accomplished from the comfort of her home, in case her physical condition or the baby’s required it. While the crew was excited and supportive of the baby, Janeway dreaded the day that the extraordinary circumstances of her child’s conception became public. However, there was nothing she could do about that except forge ahead and deal with the press whenever it became necessary.

She’d spent her free time finding a comfortable home near her family in Indiana. The large, sunny house had a sitting room just off of the master bedroom that would be perfect for the baby’s first year and could be easily converted to a private office later on. Chakotay had already started making a cradle, and he had just shown her the plans he’d drawn for a baby bed, a changing table, and a rocking chair. “At this rate,” she’d teased him, “I won’t have to buy any furniture for the nursery at all. Do you do sofas?”

The large fenced yard would be perfect for the baby’s outdoor play and for the dog that she intended to adopt as soon as possible. And, best of all, there was a separate basement apartment for the baby’s nanny, Tal Celes, although her assignment wouldn’t begin until the baby was born in about eight months’ time.

“Going through your checklist again?” Chakotay guessed, interrupting her train of thought.

“‘Prior planning prevents poor performance,'” she quoted, giving him a wry grin and thinking that he knew her too well. “I’m afraid I might have overlooked something.”

“Well, now isn’t the time to worry about it. And, after all, you aren’t in this alone.” He brought her hand to his lips for a kiss. “I won’t let you down.”

She fought back tears as she looked up at the man who had stood beside her through thick and thin for the last seven years. Her heart nearly burst with a surge of affection and gratitude to the woman on Quarra who had chosen this man to love. Her dream of being with him on their return to the Alpha Quadrant wasn’t turning out as she’d hoped, but she was grateful that they would remain close friends and share the incredible experience of rearing a child together. As had happened so often in her life, she looked for the silver lining and accepted what life brought her, putting the ache in her heart aside in favor of getting on with living.

“You know,” she said, pausing to clear her throat, “I wouldn’t consider having a baby like this with anyone but you.”

“I feel exactly the same way,” he whispered, tenderly brushing a tear from her cheek as he gave her a dimpled smile. “I have a feeling that our resentment and frustration over the Quarrans’ interference in our lives is going to dissolve the first time we hold our little girl.”

She grinned back at him, finding peace in the knowledge that she was doing the right thing. “Maybe so, but I’m not about to send them a thank you note.”

Chakotay was still laughing when the doctor appeared in the doorway of the examining room with Seven of Nine close behind him. Seven stopped just inside the door, her eyes wide with alarm at the obvious intimacy the two parents shared, an intimacy that reminded her too much of what she’d seen between them on Quarra.

“Shall we begin?” the doctor asked as he breezed into the treatment room, his voice cheerful and confident.

Janeway gave Chakotay’s hand a squeeze, never taking her eyes from his. “Let’s do it.”