SUNSET

Every evening when the weather was fair, one of them would say, "Care to take a walk, Admiral?" To which the other would invariably reply, "Why, thank you, Admiral. Don't mind if I do." Tonight was no exception.

Arm in arm, they made their way slowly out of the back door, across the verandah, and down the worn steps. Chakotay paused at the bottom, eyeing them critically. "I must get someone to fix these before winter."

Kathryn grinned to herself, thankful that at last, Chakotay was willing to accept help with some of the tasks on the property.

His sharp eyes caught her look. "What?"

She shrugged. "I guess you actually can teach an old dog new tricks."

He tapped her nose with a long, thin finger. "That's not the first time you've called me a dog. Or was I the pony?"

Her peal of laughter rang out in the still evening air. She knew he was referring to her grumble each time Starfleet paraded out Voyager's command team in what she called yet another 'dog and pony show.' "I'll let you choose. With age comes wisdom, or so they say."

"Whoever 'they' are," he added.

They paused, where they always did, in the small copse of trees that Chakotay had planted over the years, one for each of the family. Two of equal height, two slightly smaller, and then four more trying to catch up. He waited while she touched each tree. When she rejoined him, she commented, "My mother used to say that rituals are the pegs on which life is hung. Have I told you that?"

"Once or twice," he replied diplomatically.

Her eyes slanted sideways toward him. "Hey, I'm ninety-five, I'm entitled to be forgetful."

"You're ninety-four, Kathryn. I'm the one who's ninety-five."

"There! You see?"

Shaking his head at her, Chakotay let his hand drift up her back that was only just starting to bow, to ruffle the wisps at the bare nape of her neck. Time had gradually muted their hair tones - black fading to gray, red softening to pale peach - until they met in the middle in pure snowy white. But that was where the similarities stopped. Now they had almost reversed places from their early years, as Chakotay wore his in a long braid, while hers was cropped short. The haircut made her slender neck look long and delicate, the pale skin soft like crinkled ivory satin. He dropped a quick kiss on the side of her neck, enjoying her small intake of breath. "I still love this hair cut. Gives me more access to your sexy neck," he murmured.

The feel of his breath on her skin made her shiver and she leaned slightly closer. "I did it when we got home because it was time for a change, and it was easy to handle."

Chakotay had his suspicions that another reason lay submerged in the swirling depths of Kathryn's being: the desire to change any similarity she could between herself and the unhappy admiral who had shown up on Voyager from the future. But this was a topic they had never discussed, so he took a light approach and teased her instead. "And also because your mother hated it. Admit it. Underneath all that Starfleet finery, you really are a rebel at heart."

She shrugged diffidently, knowing he understood much more than he let on. "Okay, yes, because Mother never liked it.. She said it made me look like a twelve-year-old boy." Kathryn looked at him with a rueful expression. "I still miss her, you know, even after all these years."

"I miss her too," he murmured as he drew her against his side to nuzzle her hair. Gretchen had lived until the day after her one hundredth birthday. At the traditional Irish wake, Chakotay had surprised everyone when he'd had too much to drink, and then regaled the mourners with tales both hilarious and tender, revealing the depth of his affection and respect for his mother-in-law.

Kathryn turned her mouth upward to receive the comforting kiss she knew was there for her. She relished the familiar feel of the soft lips against hers and the slide of his hands around her waist pulling her closer to his wiry strength. Another change the ravages of time and a life of battles had wrought; Chakotay was slightly stooped and whip thin, while Kathryn's hips and waist had spread and rounded. A thought popped into her head and she began to smile against his mouth.

"Does that amuse you?" He tried, but knew he failed to sound offended.

"I was just wondering how many times we've kissed over the years." It was her turn to look offended as a loud burst of laughter escaped him. "What's so funny about that?"

When she would have pulled away, he tightened his arm around her. "Well, I was wondering how many times we've made love over the years."

An indulgent smile crossed her lips, despite the rolling of her eyes. "Oh, that figures. Typical male, always thinking about sex."

"Hey, just who woke who up in the middle of the night last week?"

While their coupling over the years had become less frequent and less vigorous, the increase in emotional depth and intensity had multiplied exponentially. The connection that had manifested itself between them at the very beginning of their journey, had become so tangibly strong as to make others occasionally uncomfortable around them. Glances shared across crowded rooms at receptions or reunions would elicit teasing comments such as, "Admirals, please, there are children present." "Aren't you guys a little old for that?" Or "You could peel the paint off the walls with looks that hot."

He quirked his eyebrow at the sly look on her face.

"The Capilano Bridge in British Columbia," was all she said, but it was enough to bring forth tender smiles from them both. The forging of their long history together had tempered their relationship into the strength of iron such that they often communicated with single words or phrases that created a host of memories, both happy and sad.

Phrases like, "Neelix's cheese," would dissolve them both in laughter. The one word, "Tom," was enough to bring out both smiles and tears. "New Earth," stirred a whole tempestuous sea of emotions. Sweet memories of an idyllic time long ago were complicated by the knowledge of a thriving settlement growing by leaps and bounds on "their" planet.

Chakotay turned to her. "How's your shoulder feeling after your weights this morning?"

Exercising for the couple had evolved from Klingon training programs and the boxing ring, to yoga, Tai Chi, walking, and swimming. Years ago, the doctor had advised them both to continue resistance training with light weights as long as possible to slow down the inevitable loss of muscle mass.

She patted his arm. "A little stiff, but I'm fine. Don't fuss, Chakotay."

"I'm not fussing," he retorted with a frown. "It's only been two weeks since your fall."

"I'm fine," she repeated. "Did you see that the publishers want to update our book on our Delta Quadrant experiences?"

Chakotay knew it was a distraction technique, but as usual, he allowed it. "What's to update? Travel to the DQ is common now." Traveling had been constant for them as they were always in much demand as lecturers, and only recently had they begun limiting their schedules. There had been a few trips back to the Delta Quadrant, and they'd briefly considered staying, but ultimately the siren call of the Alpha Quadrant had drawn them permanently home.

At the sudden sound of Chakotay's sharp intake, Kathryn's snowy head whipped around. He was definitely limping more than usual. "Are your feet hurting?" she asked. It was like inquiring if the sky was blue. Despite the doctor's skill and many surgeries, Chakotay's feet had never been the same after his abduction by the Ayartians while on a volatile diplomatic mission that had turned sour. The endlessly long days of searching, and then the horror of what they found when he was finally located had been one of the most gut-wrenchingly stressful times of her entire life.

"Somewhat."

The quiet and unusual admission from him told her all she needed to know, and she turned them around to head back to the house.

"Kathryn, I'm okay," he protested.

"We haven't contacted Caitlin yet today, and I'd like to do that before sunset."

A sigh escaped him, but again, he allowed the ruse to pass, and they began their leisurely return to the house. Kathryn Janeway was still the most stubborn woman in the galaxy he'd ever met, and although he'd had plenty of opportunity to develop the knack, resisting her was not a talent he possessed.

Glancing down at the small woman who had stood beside him for so long, he knew he couldn't put off any longer telling her the piece of news he'd received while she'd been exercising in the morning. The moment she opened their console, she would know.

"Kathryn…"

Although he'd tried to keep his voice neutral, she recognized the tone, and stopped walking. Continuing to look straight ahead, she dully asked, "Who?"

After a brief pause, he quietly replied, "Mortimer."

A momentary tightening of her mouth was her only response before they resumed their slow homeward trudge. Over the years, they had attended many weddings, child dedications, and naming ceremonies. Last year it had been the dedication of Naomi's grandchild. But, increasingly with the passage of time, there were more funerals and memorial services.

Oddly, one of the first to go had been the doctor. He'd been on a book tour when an intraphasic bolt of plasma lashed the transport he was on, and the small ship had exploded. The loss of the doctor had eventually led to the loss of Seven of Nine. Dr. Icheb had been in the Gamma Quadrant the next time her remaining Borg implants began to fail, so no one in the Alpha Quadrant had the necessary skill and understanding to save her. Both Kathryn and Chakotay had been with her at the end, and it had not been a quiet, easy death.

Unlike Tuvok's gentle passing. Fal-tor-voh was a ceremony that could only be performed once, and when the neurological disease had returned a second time, the Vulcan had chosen ritualistic suicide with his family and closest friends by his side. Chakotay had been deeply fearful of his wife's stoic response to the loss of her oldest friend, and it was T'Pel who counseled Kathryn that it was not healthy for her as a Human to try to submerge her emotions. The snapping of her unnatural reserve was like the breaking of a chain, and the storm of Kathryn's grief had raged loud and long, but eventually a healthy, tear-washed calm was restored.

There had been other deaths within their extended family, some heroic, some simply the capricious grip of Lady Luck and the passage of time, and the sad inevitability was accepted. At each reunion, there were less of the original Voyager family, and more of the third and even fourth generations. Every person, no matter how young, knew by heart the amazing stories of the Federation Starship Voyager that now sat as a museum on the grounds of the Presidio.

But it was infinitely harder to take whenever death struck the younger generation. When Cadet Yamata Kim died in a freak accident at the academy, it so devastated his grandfather that Harry retired early from Starfleet. Joe Carey's youngest son had followed in his father's footsteps and entered Starfleet, only to also die at the hands of hostile foes, this time in the Beta Quadrant.

Kathryn lifted her face to the sky and released a long cleansing breath. "B'E's going to come for dinner on Friday this week."

"How long did the argument last this time?"

Every second week, they would have dinner with B'Elanna, and squabbling about whose turn it was to host was part of the ritual. "About fifteen minutes. She's so stubborn."

Chakotay attempted to cover his laughter with a cough, but she caught him and leveled the famous glare at him. "Put it away, Kathryn; I'm immune to it now."

Their small house appeared as they rounded a curve in the path. Chakotay asked, "What did you think of Ed's plans for that new facility on Primus III?"

"Impressive. Just like everything the boy does."

"Kathryn, that 'boy' is almost forty-six."

"He's still my boy. Let's call him as well as Cait when we get back to the house." They well knew how short life was, and made a point to connect daily with Ed and Caitlin. As different as Vulcans and Talaxians, Ed had married young and produced four children, while Caitlin remained devoted to her political career that had advanced her to the position of Federation Vice-President. Neither had ever considered entering Starfleet, but two of Ed's children had. Lieutenant Liam Janeway had been a part of the forces that drove back the last attempted invasion of the Borg three years prior, while Ensign Juanita Janeway was presently on the Charleston speeding its way to build another settlement in the Delta Quadrant.

Calls completed, Chakotay and Kathryn took their evening coffee and tea to the waiting chairs positioned at the front of the house to watch the living painting evolve before them. The panorama of bright blue sky seeped away into pink and gold, which slowly dissolved into streaks of mauve and deeper purple.

Sighing contentedly, Kathryn mused, "I never tire of watching this. There's nothing so beautiful in all the galaxy quite like a terran sunset." There was no response to her comment, and she glanced over at her companion of over half a century. Even here on their verandah, his chair was to her left. Her heart pounded at the sight she beheld.

Chakotay was slumped in his chair, eyes closed, face slack. Cautiously, fearfully, she reached for his hand. "Chakotay?" she whispered, and the answering twitch in his hand, and slight rumble of a snore eased the grip of icy fingers from her heart. A warm tidal wave of relief swept through her, and with her hand still clasping his, she turned her face back toward the darkening sky once more.

The End

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© Brianna Thomas, August 2004 Please email me to post/distribute elsewhere.