WISHBONE

Rated G
Disclaimer: Paramount owns Voyager. I own this story.
Summary: Post-endgame fluff. Janeway has some decisions to make about her future.

Part One.

They strolled through the corridors, side by side, somehow matching each other step for step. They were deep in conversation, as usual, and people smiled indulgently at them as they went by. The Captain and the Commander. Always together, people would whisper, and would look at each other knowingly.

The whispers were a sign of how peaceful life just then; they were in a friendly region of space, giving the crew the chance for some well earned rest - and innocent speculation. Both the Captain nor the Commander were aware of these effects, but although they rejoiced in the former, the latter was never mentioned. At this precise moment, they were discussing the latest celebration Neelix had dug up from the databanks.

It was impossible not to notice the sense of anticipation in the air. In fact, as a group of Ensigns went past, Janeway overheard them singing something about an animal with a luminous nose. She supposed this was a song Paris had taught them, or possibly Neelix, who had always maintained singing was good for morale.

As they approached the Messhall, the rich aroma of cooking greeted them, and Chakotay raised his eyebrows. "That actually smells quite good," he said, with quite genuine surprise, and Janeway laughed.

"You know, I did have reservations about letting him hold a Christmas celebration," she admitted, "But apparently it was this or - on the twenty-sixth - the Varin mud wrestling celebration."

He shook his head "And why didn't you consult me about that decision? I would have advised you - "

"I know what you would have advised me," she interrupted, smacking him playfully on the arm, "And that's exactly why I didn't ask your opinion."

As the doors opened, the scent of herbs and spices grew stronger, and Janeway felt a vague sense of nostalgia creep over her. They had done nothing special as a ship for the last two Christmases, but this time they weren't in hostile territory, they had plenty of supplies, and Neelix was adamant. She had always felt Christmas was a time for family, and three years into the journey she really believed that was what the crew had become.

Neelix came rushing over to them as they entered, brandishing a ladle. "Captain! Commander! So good to see you! I'm afraid it's just a cold lunch today, as I'm busy preparing the meal for tomorrow."

"So we see," smiled Chakotay, glancing at the numerous pots and pans on the stove.

"Yes, there are so many to cook for, I actually decided to make some of the dishes the day before - also serves as a practice run, of course. But I haven't found anywhere to fit in Leola root just yet. Still, there'll be so much else to eat I doubt many will miss it." He fixed them with a beady eye. "Talking of missing, I assume you are going to make it to the meal tomorrow? Both of you?" His gaze shifted to the Captain. " I'm aware that some people forget that they need to eat…"

She gave him a mild glare. "I'm here now, aren't I? To eat?"

"Yes, that's true, but probably only because Commander coerced you."

Before either of them could respond, smoke started billowing from the kitchen and Neelix rushed to avert the crisis. Grateful for the interruption, they picked up two salads from the counter and went to sit at their table by the viewport.

They ate slowly, talking all the while, delaying the moment when they'd have to return to their crew evaluations. As they ate, people came streaming into the room, lured by the delicious scents drifting through the corridors. Naomi and her mother were at a nearby table, who were then joined by Kes and Harry. The two senior officers paused their conversation to greet them all.

Naomi had her eyes closed and was intently stirring some ice-cream. "She's making a wish," said Sam, and explained that Neelix had been telling them about the Christmas traditions he'd been researching. "There's one about making a wish as you stir the pudding, but I don't think Naomi quite understood." They all laughed, and Sam launched into a description of the other traditions. Before long, almost everyone in the room was listening with interest - some from curiosity, but most to be on their guard. People exchanged glances when mistletoe was described, and wondered if Paris was aware of that tradition.

Soon Neelix came bustling over, pleased to see that everyone was getting involved with his venture. Sam was just finishing describing the wishbone tradition.

"So, two people hold a turkey wishbone, then each person pulls on the wishbone, snapping it, while making a wish. Whoever gets the larger piece of bone, their wish will come true. But you mustn't tell anyone your wish."

"That's right, Ensign," said Neelix, "Or it won't come true. So you were listening! And talking of wishbones, I have one right here!" He beamed around at the assembled audience.

"Now, all we need is two people…" his gaze moved round the different tables, and quickly settled on the small table by the viewport. Janeway suppressed a sigh, and managed to smile as he moved towards them.

"Captain! Commander! I think it should be you two who get to give the first wishbone a try! Besides, I'm sure you can both think of something to wish for."

Suddenly the Messhall went very quiet, as if the onlookers had read a deeper meaning into these words. The commanding officers turned in unison to look at each other, both with unreadable expressions.

"I'm sure we can," Janeway replied, without looking back at Neelix. He handed them the wishbone, and they each took hold of an end. Still they didn't break eye contact, but both felt the rest of the Messhall watching them.

"Wait," said Naomi, who had looked up from her ice-cream. "What if they both wish for the same thing?"

There was a silence.

"Then whoever wins, both wishes must come true," said Kes, and Naomi seemed satisfied.

"Make a wish, Kathryn," Chakotay whispered, so softly only she could hear. They both pulled the wishbone, and with a snap it broke, leaving her with the larger piece. She looked at it with a faintly puzzled smile, for obviously he was the stronger of the two. Had he let her win?

"Well done, Captain," said Neelix, "Now, remember you mustn't tell your wish, or it won't come true. Now, I'll have more wishbones soon enough, who would like to try next?"

Soon the Messhall was buzzing with chatter again, and the crew had turned back to their own tables. Only the table by the viewport was silent; one of the occupants watching the rest of the crew, and the other, staring at the piece of bone held in her hand.

Part Two.

She woke with a start, and wondered why everything was so silent. Her hand was automatically reaching for her com badge before she understood - the familiar hum of the ship's systems was absent because she wasn't on Voyager any more.

She took a deep breath; it had been the dream that confused her. She'd dreamt of the wishbone, the first time they'd celebrated Christmas in the Delta Quadrant - back in the third year of their journey. Back when Naomi was only a year old, and had just learnt to talk. Back before Kes had left them. And when Seven wasn't on board.

A familiar coldness settled over her heart, as the full reality of events came back to her. How things had changed since the day of her dream. The Borg. The letters from the array. The continuing years of struggle and doubt. The arrival of her future self, with an ambitious plan, which had sent her from one kind of exile into another.

She couldn't complain. It had been what she'd wanted, the goal she'd been reaching towards all those years. Earth. She wasn't to know that the distant, shining blue orb would turn to dust the moment she touched it.

With a sigh, she sat upright and looked around. Such thoughts were overdramatic and self-indulgent. But somehow, she couldn't help it. The dream had taken her by surprise, left her off balance, forced her to remember a time she'd rather forget. Obviously, she was happier to be home again. Obviously.

Though, back in the Delta Quadrant, she'd had Chakotay by her side. His presence had made even the most hopeless situations seem bearable. On the other hand, she doubted she'd have enjoyed staying on Voyager and watching his and Seven's relationship develop. She might even have had to perform their marriage ceremony. She was safe from that duty now, it would fall to someone else. Assuming they weren't already married, of course. Maybe they were. She didn't know.

A dull, familiar pain crept through her body, almost like tiredness, but she'd only just woken up. She ignored it. That was one of her best gifts, the ability to ignore pain, to persevere, to endure. That ability had served her well.

The events since their return played out in her mind; the endless debriefings, having to talk with counsellors - managing to convince them that her unease was related to the shock of getting home, rather than a more personal issue. That was one of her most successful deceptions, she decided, even more so than with the Devore. The counsellors hadn't suspected a thing. Having been examined and questioned and cross questioned, she was finally promoted to Admiral. She got the feeling this was because they didn't want her to run off with another of their ships, but she accepted anyway. Then came the business with the Romulans. Although she didn't like to admit it to herself, it was a relief to have other people be responsible for once.

By the time that was all over, she realised that most of her old crew had scattered. There were messages and invitations dating for months back that she hadn't had a chance to read, mixed in with all the other thousands of messages from the press, old friends, and press posing as old friends. At first, she had tried to keep up, but returning home at four in the morning to find eight thousand new messages made the task simply impossible. Even her aide couldn't deal with it. She'd tried filtering out everything except messages from her family and old crew, but soon found people could devise incredibly sophisticated ways of posing as someone she knew. She'd have been impressed if it wasn't so frustrating.

As the crises in the quadrant escalated so did her workload, and she'd had to give up with the messages altogether. And so did her correspondents, eventually. However, when she finally got a chance to go back and read them, she saw how persistent everyone had been. There were also a few tentative messages from Chakotay, suggesting they meet up. She wondered what he'd thought when she hadn't responded - did he know she hadn't responded to anyone's messages? Probably. He would have asked around. Made excuses for her. That wasn't his job. He shouldn't have been forced to make them, it was her own fault she'd missed the birthdays, the anniversaries, the weddings. Her own fault.

A week later, she resigned. Still, it was actually two months before she'd got all her projects finished and affairs sorted out. She hadn't wanted her sudden departure to cause problems. Finally, on the fifteenth of December, she walked from the building a free woman.

She'd visited her family briefly, but had found it difficult to organise her thoughts and work out what to do next while constantly surrounded by people. Then a friend of Mark's had offered her a chance to stay this cabin deep in the wilderness, where she was guaranteed solitude. She took up the offer immediately, assuring her worried family that she'd be back for Christmas.

That had been three days ago, meaning today was the twentieth. She looked out of the window - snow was falling softly, and the only sound she could hear was her own breathing.

***

The kitchen was cold. She made some coffee - real coffee (she hadn't quite become used to the wonder that was real coffee) then decided to replicate some breakfast. She wasn't hungry, but it was important to create some vague semblance of routine in her day. Or something.

However, when she asked for some fruit, the replicator provided her with a daffodil on an otherwise empty plate. The same happened when she asked for bread. And for cereal. And yoghurt, asparagus, ice cream, orange juice, meringues, spaghetti - and a raincoat, just to check it wasn't only food that was the problem. Soon she'd acquired a large stack of crockery and a bouquet of flowers, but nothing to eat. She folded her arms and glared at it. Possibly the replicators had their own secret organisation, and were now all in league against her. She addressed it sternly. "Have you been talking to the replicator in my old quarters? Because if so, I assure you, none of what you heard is true." Not particularly to her surprise, it didn't answer. She could probably fix it if she tried, but as she wasn't hungry she didn't bother. She was used to skipping meals.

Before she could block them out, a flood of memories overwhelmed her. She remembered Chakotay's various lectures about her eating habits; hundreds of them throughout the years. Sometimes he'd lecture her with a concerned expression. Sometimes with coaxing smiles, other times with barely concealed annoyance. She remembered the times she'd laughed and asked him to join her for dinner. The times she'd ignored him and been forcibly marched through the corridors to the messhall. The time - the only time - he'd actually carried her there - herself laughing too hard to manage to escape. She remembered the way he'd involve the doctor, or try to bribe her, or form plans with Naomi.

It was ridiculous to feel homesick for such moments, but she did. If she forgot to eat here, no one would tell her off, or argue with her. She actually missed the arguments. All of them, not just about eating. Even the petty ones, even the bitter ones. At least then they'd been talking.

But she hadn't come out here to think about that, she'd meant to try and plan her future. However, when she'd accepted the offer of the cabin, she'd conveniently forgotten that inactivity and isolation only made her depressed. In fact, she did her best thinking when she had someone to act as a sounding board, someone to bounce ideas off. Someone like -

Well, he wasn't there, so it didn't matter, she told herself firmly. What else helped her to think? Walking. She also did her best thinking while walking, and had walked her way to many an unorthodox solution while on Voyager. She'd stubbornly kept this habit even when Chakotay had explained it unnerved people. When she'd told him why she did it, he'd laughed. "Then let them be unnerved, if it's keeping the ship together." After that, they'd taken to often walking the ship together when trying to solve a problem, and -

She shook her head, it was too easy for her mind to creep back to that topic. "I'm going for a walk," she told the replicator, and pulled on her jacket and boots.

It had stopped snowing, but when she stepped outside she was hit by a wall of freezing air. Ignoring the cold, she walked down the steps, and headed out into the shivering forest.

***

The forest was quiet; there were birds singing, but all sounds were slightly muffled by the snow. She could hardly hear her own footsteps as she made her way more deeply into the trees. The snow was not very deep, about ankle high in most places, but over knee-deep in the drifts. Between the snowclouds, she could see blue sky - a colour that was faint but also brilliant, like the heart of a pale sapphire.

A strange feeling fluttered in her chest - a sudden delight just to be looking around, and seeing, for the first time in what felt like years. Ever since they'd arrived home, she'd been busy - answering questions, writing reports, defending her crew. Then she'd become an Admiral, and had spent long days and long nights in an office, negotiating, arguing, reading, writing, giving orders. Then she would stumble home blindly and fall asleep fully clothed, to dream of people she once knew - her crew, in another life, another world. Only to wake alone, and glance guiltily at the unanswered messages before having to rush back to the office again.

But now, suddenly, there was no office, and no work to be done. Just a forest, a pale sky, and a clearing of pure, untouched snow. She hesitated for a moment, reluctant to walk over the shining expanse and mar it with footprints. Then she shook her head and laughed at herself; the snow would melt and disappear regardless of whether she had walked on it or not.

At the back of her mind, she realised this scene was similar to how she imagined her future. The future stretched out before her - a white, blank expanse, like a snowfield or desert waiting to be walked, or a great sheet of paper waiting to be written on. The future would melt away and become past whatever she did - so why was she hesitating?

Suddenly, the sun emerged from behind the clouds, and the scene was bathed in warm light. Everything glittered, the surface of the snow, the frost on the trees, even the air seemed to sparkle. As she looked at the snow, she realised nowhere was it truly white. In the sunlight, the snow shone a rich gold, and in the shade it gleamed a dark, cold blue. Taking a deep breath of the icy air, she started walking again.

As she reached the other side of the clearing, she noticed a large branch had fallen on to the new snow. It was leafless, and had broken from the tree in the shape of a Y. Or, not exactly a Y, she realised, but the shape of a wishbone. The dream came back to her, but the details were indistinct now, it had been much clearer when she'd first woken. The more she tried to remember it, the further it receded. She had a vague sense that there was something important in it, but she finally dismissed the feeling. She knew how that story ended.

That had been the first wishbone, that year, the first of something that became a kind of ritual between them. The next Christmas, Neelix had solemnly and wordlessly handed them another wishbone. They had pulled it, and she had got the larger piece, again. This time, however, Paris had told them how he'd found another part to the tradition. Apparently in some places, the person who had 'lost' was made to tell his wish.

Chakotay had laughed. "I'm afraid I can't do that," he said, and the others had looked at him, intrigued.

"Why not?" asked Harry, and Chakotay had smiled.

"Because then I can't use the wish again next year, having told it, can I?" he explained, and his eyes flicked towards her.

The next year, in the fifth year of their journey, they pulled the wishbone again. They were alone this time, for Neelix had decided to bring it to her Ready Room. She had won, yet again, despite the fact she'd given it little effort this time. She'd looked at Chakotay carefully.

"You let me win, didn't you? You gave me the wish."

He touched her hand lightly. "I didn't. Besides, I have other ways of wishing."

She 'd always had a feeling they were wishing for similar things, but there was no way of asking. "I know you can't tell me your wish, but is it the always same thing you wish for, each year?"

He'd looked at her. "Yes. Always. And you?"

"Yes. Though I don't think my wish is fair."

"Fair?" He'd thought for a moment. "Wishes make you conscious of what you want most, regardless of how feasible it is. And want has little to do with fairness."

As she stood in the snow, at the edge of the clearing, she knew she had lied that day. She'd told him she didn't think her wish was fair, where in fact she knew it wasn't. She knew, and yet that didn't stop her wishing it. And all those years, he had let her make the wish, make the calls, set the boundaries. She'd been both amazed and grateful, though she knew she didn't deserve it.

Another Christmas went by, and she made the wish yet again. She began to hope, against her better judgement, that it might come true.

Then, the Admiral had come. Her future self had given her a way to finally get her crew home. But in return, the Admiral had taken something, destroyed something just as precious. Hope.

For the first Christmas home, after all the trials and debriefings, the crew had all met up to celebrate their freedom and good fortune. As Captain, there was no way she could have got out of it, so instead she'd made an appearance, talked to everyone, and smiled until she thought her face might crack. She'd spoken to both Chakotay and Seven, but they hadn't mentioned their relationship, and she realised they thought she didn't know. Just when she'd been about to make her escape, Chell had come rushing over, dragging Chakotay with one hand and holding a wishbone in the other.

"Just because we're home doesn't mean we should give up on our traditions," Chell had said, enthusiastically, and made Chakotay stand beside her. Chakotay looked very uncomfortable, and wouldn't meet her eye. She understood. Everyone around them was watching. She understood perfectly. When Chell gave her the wishbone, she had simply handed it to Chakotay.

"I don't think it should be me this time," she said. "After all, there isn't much point in me making my wish now." She emphasised the last word slightly and smiled at Chell, to show she meant that, as Voyager was home, her wish was unnecessary. "Of course," he'd grinned back, "I suppose there's not much to wish for now."

She agreed, glad he accepted her explanation, but she'd meant something quite different and wondered if Chakotay had picked up on it. Suddenly she felt bad about it, she didn't want him to worry. But when she glanced at him, he was scanning the crowd, completely oblivious to her.

As she slipped away, she'd heard Chell's voice above the crowd. " - someone else try the wishbone. Seven's never tried it, has she? Where's Seven?"

Stepping out of the large function room into the corridor, she couldn't help but feel Seven had no need of wishes either.

Part Three

The sun was lower now; she had no idea how long she'd been walking. The wish-bone branch was a long way back, and her cabin even further. She wasn't even sure what time she had left. She'd been unable to sleep last night, she remembered, so she'd probably slept in late in the morning. If she'd woken at eleven hundred hours - no, eleven o'clock - then she'd left maybe at twelve and it was perhaps two by now.

Looking up, she saw a thin crescent moon hanging above the trees. The sky was still blue, but a slightly different shade, with strands of filmy cloud combed across it. She hadn't made a single plan for her future, but her mind had finally emptied and she'd experienced a kind of calm she hadn't felt in months. Still, she should turn back or she wouldn't reach the cabin before it got dark.

She was just about to turn when she spotted a strange shape in the snow ahead of her. With a few quick steps, she was standing beside it - in the snow was drawn an unmistakable arrow. Whirling round, she stared back down the path she'd travelled. No one in sight. There was no one ahead of her either, or around, but with the trees it was difficult to be sure.

Looking back at the arrow, she realised with confusion that were no footprints around it. The only footprints in sight were her own. Possibly the stranger's footprints had been covered by the new fallen snow - but if that were the case, then the arrow shape should have been filled in too.

A hundred different possibilities ran through her mind, but each one required a level of effort and planning that seemed absurd, considering the result. Maybe the arrow had formed naturally - she sincerely doubted it - but it was a possibility. If she followed the arrow and found another, she'd know for sure the effect was intentional.

After walking a very short distance, she discovered a second arrow. She now knew they were there for a reason, but this reason was just as puzzling as the method used to create them. As she continued in the direction the arrow pointed, she wondered if they were intended for her or not. As far as she knew, she was the only person around for miles and miles. And she'd given strict instructions that absolutely no one should be given her whereabouts.

It occurred to her that she could easily be walking into some kind of danger, or trap, without anything to guide her or defend herself with. Yet still she kept going. She knew what people used to say about her, on Voyager. They said she had no concern for her own welfare, that she was 'reckless' to the extreme. Back home, those who admired her called this behaviour 'brave'. Those who didn't called it 'suicidal'. She didn't think she was either of these things. But either way, she'd certainly been in a lot more danger than following a mysterious trail of arrows through Terran woodland.

She found a third arrow, then a fourth and fifth. She kept an eye on the trees - the side of the trunks covered in snow indicated North. After she found the sixth arrow, she saw a distant splash of colour. She walked towards it; the snow was deeper here, well over her knees. As she drew closer, she saw the colour belonged to a plant, a flowering bush of some kind, growing among the leafless trees. It was a rose bush, half buried in snow, with a single rose blooming on it.

She approached it carefully - the snow was completely undisturbed around it, it appeared to have sprung up from the ground naturally. The petals of the rose glistened with frost. She extended her blue, numb fingers to touch it.

"Kathr…"

Someone touched her arm, and instinctively she thrust her elbow backwards, smashing it into the stranger behind her. Caught off balance, the stranger fell heavily back into the snow. She turned to face him, adopting a defensive stance. He was heavily built and dressed in black; and male, she was assuming. All of his face was covered except for his eyes. Dark eyes.

Familiar eyes.

"Chakotay." She didn't mean to say his name, but she heard herself breathe the word as though naming him would make him real. He seemed real. And she'd know those eyes anywhere. She knelt down in the snow next to him.

Still half buried in the snow, he took off his hat and pushed down his scarf. "Kathryn Janeway," he said, giving her a wry, dimpled grin. "I can't believe I forgot how dangerous it is to be in your presence."

She didn't know what to say. For all her eloquence, all her famed articulacy, she was at a loss. She knew thousands of words, but none of them seemed to express what she was feeling, or what she wanted to tell him, or what she wanted to ask.

"I'm sorry," she said, finally. And it was true, she was sorry for many things, but it wasn't a word she often seemed to say.

"Don't worry about it," he smiled up at her, as though taking it as an apology for her sudden attack. "I'm okay - it was a soft landing." But she knew he understood. How she'd missed that feeling - to be completely understood, in so few words.

Suddenly she found the whole situation ridiculous. It was Chakotay, he was here. And she'd pushed him into the snow. He lay there, half buried, looking up at her. She started laughing.

And then he was laughing too, which made her laugh more, and then he was laughing so hard that the walls of snow around him collapsed and buried his face. She grabbed his hand and he tried to sit up, but they were both weak with laughter and he just sank back down again.

When they'd finally recovered, he sat up and looked at her. "I'm here to tell you off," he said, in answer to the question she was just about to ask.

"Chakotay, I'm sorry, I didn't keep in contact, and - "

He shook his head, "Not about that. We all knew you were busy. I'm here to lecture you about the stupidity of walking in the snow for hours, wearing only a thin coat, with no supplies, when no one knows your location."

"It was just a stroll," she said, raising an eyebrow. "But how are you, Chakotay?"

"Concerned. My former Captain, for no apparent reason, just resigned from her job and disappeared alone into the wilderness. When I find her, she's trying to kill herself by walking around in sub-zero temperatures."

"She is not. And the fabric of the coat is state of the art; I am perfectly warm. But you didn't answer my questions, are - "

"You don't even know what time it is, do you?"

She shook her head, apparently he needed to get this out of his system before he spoke about himself. "No."

"And what did you eat before you set off?"

She ducked her chin guiltily. "Breakfast."

He sighed. "You used to be an excellent liar. You can do better than that."

"Breakfast," she repeated, firmly, "Black coffee, three cheese sandwiches and an apple - a Golden Delicious. The apple was slightly bruised."

His mouth twitched, but he managed to keep looking stern. "That's better."

"But - and answer me now, Chakotay - how are you? I can't believe I don't know what you're doing at the moment."

"I'm actually between jobs right now. And I'm cold, so can we stand up?"

He pulled her to her feet, and looked at her seriously. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," she said. She glanced at his left hand, but his ring-finger was hidden under a glove. She pictured him standing in his best clothes, and Seven looking glacial in a white dress.

She knew what she wanted to ask next, but she had no right. Would he read the question in her expression? He was so adept at reading her; that was one of the reasons she'd avoided him since their return. She didn't want him to read hurt in her eyes. She didn't want pity, or for him to feel guilty. She didn't want to jeopardise the new happiness he'd found.

It was better to forget about it just now, pretend it had never happened. Better to talk to him as though their friendship had never been interrupted. "How did you find me?" she asked, finally.

He gave her a wide grin. "I was Maquis, remember? We have our ways. And yes, it was I who made the trail, and planted the rose. With help, of course."

"Transporter technology," she said, and he nodded.

"We beamed down a metal arrow shape, then beamed it up again, so it left only an imprint. But no footprints."

"We?"

"I expect you have a pretty good idea who was involved."

"But why did you do it? Why not just visit if you wanted to talk to me?"

His smile faded. "I wasn't sure if you wanted to talk. You did come here to be alone, after all. You could have locked the door and ignored me."

She stared at him incredulously. "Why would I have ignored you?"

He didn't meet her gaze. "I can think of some reasons. Anyway," he moved swiftly on, "I decided that special tactics may be needed. And luckily for me, I had access to the best expert on Kathryn Janeway."

"Modest."

"It's the truth. So I decided to let your insatiably curious nature to lead you to me. And it worked."

She narrowed her eyes. "Am I really that predictable?"

"You really are."

She made a sudden movement, and he was blinking snow out of his eyes before he knew what had hit him. As his vision cleared, he saw her standing a short distance away, smiling a crooked smile. "If I'm so predictable, you should have seen that coming."

He had to laugh. "Well, I may be slightly out of practice. But didn't it occur to you that maybe…" In a swift movement, he grabbed a handful of powdery snow and flung it at her. She shrieked and leapt to the side, easily dodging the missile.

"You'll have to do better than that, Cha - " Before she could finish the sentence, another snowball hit her on the forehead, and she stumbled backwards. She stared at him with a slightly glazed expression, and waited. It didn't take long.

"I'm sorry Kathryn, are you alright?" He moved towards her, and received a snowball on the nose by way of reply.

He brushed the snow away and gave her a feral grin. "So that's how it is. Now you are a dead woman." He took a handful of snow. "Good aim, by the way."

She smiled. "Thank you. But I was actually aiming for your tattoo. Perhaps…" The rest of the sentence was lost as she leapt away from another snowball.

They continued back and forth for quite some time, until finally they collapsed side by side onto the trampled snow. Tears of laughter had frozen on their cheeks, and they were both breathing hard. Kathryn's fingers were burning with cold, but all she felt was warmth.

"You went to all this trouble just to attack me and put snow down my neck?" she asked.

"Apparently so, but that wasn't the original plan." He handed her his gloves. "Here, put these on before your hands fall off."

She took one and handed the other back to him. "So what was the original plan?"

"Well, the original plan didn't start with you throwing me backwards into a snowdrift."

"I'm sorry, I didn't…"

"No, don't apologise, it was just reflex. It serves me right for having tried to surprise you. People who surprise you get hurt, I should've remembered that. Anyway, I intended to speak to you, ask you how you were. I intended to give you the rose over there. Then I intended to invite you to a party. A Christmas party. The whole crew's going to be there."

She stared at him, trying to imagine seeing all those people again. Those people from her old life. The family. "The whole crew?" she asked, and he shook his head.

"No, but there are only three not accounted for. The first is Roberts, he's on a deep space mission. The second is you, because obviously I've only just asked you. And the third is Seven. She's in the middle of some Vulcan meditation ritual."

"What kind of ritual?"

"Something to help her control and understand her emotions - I've heard it lasts about three years. She's about six months into it already. At least, I think so."

"You think so? You mean, you're not sure?"

He looked at her steadily. "I'm not sure. I wasn't really in contact with her when she left." He paused. "Kathryn. You heard something about us, didn't you?"

She hesitated. "I did." She wanted to say that she'd been pleased to hear it, and happy for her two friends, but it would be a lie. She stayed silent.

"You did." He sighed heavily. "I thought so, though I can't see how. But I want you to know everything. It lasted barely a week. It was nothing. And I have regretted it every day since."

What was she supposed to say? She heard the birds singing, she felt the ice-tears melting on her cheeks. His face full of remorse. She wondered what this meant. She didn't want to hope, didn't dare, but why else had he told her?

"I'd have told you this even if I didn't think you knew," he said, then stood and turned away. With a flare of panic, she turned to see if he was leaving, but he just went to the rose bush, then returned with the rose in his hand.

He knelt down and handed it to her. "I don't… expect anything. I just wanted you to know. I'm sorry."

She lifted the rose to her face, and breathed deeply. The scent was vivid in the sharp air. The petals were soft; yellow bleeding into apricot, then tipped with pink. She lowered it and leaned towards him.

"Chakotay. You have nothing to apologise for. Nothing. Do you understand? You were free to make your own choices. Our…," she hesitated, "friendship shouldn't have affected them. Besides, I should be the one apologising. So many months with no word. Can you ever forgive me?"

"Kathryn, you don't - "

"Can you?"

"Only if you forgive me."

She smiled and jabbed him in the stomach. "We're ridiculous. Do you know that? How about we just agree to forgive each other?"

He laughed. "Done. Though I haven't forgiven you for pushing me over just yet."

Suddenly he was looking up at the sky. He sat up and brushed the snow from his coat. "Will you stop doing that?"

"But you make it so easy."

"That's not a good reason. And you never used to push me over on Voyager. Well, perhaps metaphorically."

"You weren't a pushover! At least, not all the time. Anyway, there was never snow on Voyager."

"Can you imagine?"

"Unfortunately, I can."

"We wanted to have the party there, you know. But they wouldn't let us. You've agree to come, right?"

"Yes, I have. And that's a shame about Voyager. But I suppose at least the carpets will stay clean."

"The carpets were never clean."

"I know, not in the Delta Quadrant. Here, however, they are. You know, that's the only reason I brought us back. To find someone who could clean the carpets properly."

"I obviously failed you as a First Officer. But I'm not entirely sure carpet cleanliness was my department."

"I made it your department."

A small part of her listened to their exchange from a distance, slightly removed from the conversation. She couldn't help but notice the slight awkwardness, and what they weren't talking about. It was a hard habit to break - for so many years they had carefully perfected the art of not talking about it. They could 'not talk about it' for hours on end. But that had to stop.

"Chakotay, as much as I'm enjoying this conversation, could we walk back to the cabin? It's freezing here and someone happened to cover me in snow."

Instead of laughing, he looked concerned. "Are you very cold? You're not dressed as warmly as I am. And it's a long walk back." He thought for a moment. "Chakotay to Paris."

"Finally!" came a voice, "You've been ages! We're dying up here! What's going on? You could have at least left the channel open."

"Everything's fine, Tom" said Chakotay, and a deafening sound of cheering came from his communicator.

She raised her eyebrows. "How many people were in on this plan?" she asked, as the cheering continued. He looked awkward and tugged his ear. "Just a few close friends." She stared at him, and held up his hands. "Okay. And their friends. And their friends, too. And some of their neighbours." He spoke into the communicator again. "Can you beam up the rose bush, and send down my bag and another coat?"

The plant shimmered and disappeared, then a bag and coat arrived in its place. "Thank you Tom," said Chakotay. "We'll contact you later. Now go home. Chakotay out."

***

The walk back took very little time, partly because they walked swiftly, and partly because Chakotay had a tricorder and knew a shortcut.

They walked mainly in silence, watching the colours of the rich sunset as it filtered through the trees. Their silence was a comfortable one, and she thought of the times they'd sat in her quarters, late at night, not feeling the need for words. They both knew they had a lot to discuss, but there was an unspoken agreement that it could wait until they reached the cabin.

She felt a lightness that was more than freedom, it was as though she was finally herself again. She stole a glance at him and he immediately turned to meet her gaze, his face melting into a smile. It was strange how at ease they were with each other, after being apart for so long, after all the misunderstandings and petty betrayals. It was this rare quality that had allowed them to continue working with each other, even after vicious fights and disagreements. She was simply happy to be with him, and he seemed to feel the same way.

Everything glowed in the low sun. The snow was alight and the trees cast long bars of deep shadow. She would remember this place, every detail. The frozen droplets hanging like crystals from the filigree of branches. The faint blush of pearl pink on the silver birch. The burning clouds. And the steady, silent presence walking beside her.

Part Four

The cabin looked welcoming as they approached from the shadows. Kathryn unlocked the door and they took off their boots, then went inside.

"I need to put this rose in water, then time for coffee," said Kathryn briskly, and led Chakotay into the kitchen. He looked around admiringly. The room was both a kitchen and living room, with soft chairs, a sofa and a traditional fireplace.

"Shall I light a fire?" he asked, spotting a basket of firewood in the corner.

She looked up with an expression of mock fear, and moved so there was a counter between them. "Stay away! You're not getting any of my hair this time."

He laughed, even though she'd been teasing him about it for the last five years of their journey. "That's the reason you cut it, isn't it? To make sure that wouldn't happen again, the next time we were stranded on some planet."

"Hey! I knew we wouldn't be stranded again, thank you very much. But yes, please make a fire. I'm soaked to the skin."

He pushed away the mental image that formed with those words, and looked at her instead. Her skin was pale but her cheeks were flushed from the cold wind. Droplets of water fell from her tangled hair.

"That's a point, your hair would be too wet to light a fire with anyway."

She lifted a hand to touch it, and gave a start of surprise. "Can you believe it, Chakotay? It's actually frozen solid! It feels so strange!"

He moved towards her and lifted a hand to her hair. Sure enough, the hair wet from the snow had frozen in the cold air. A bead of water ran down his thumb.

"It's melting now we're back in the warmth," he said. They looked at each other. He was suddenly very aware of how close they were standing, and the way he was touching her hair. He remembered a far off time, in a small shelter, when she had sat before him and he had smoothed her hair away from her neck.

Here they were again, in another wilderness, the only two people for miles. Still, so much had changed. She had changed, he had changed, everything was different. But he couldn't draw back. One thing was the same. That feeling, hammering in his chest, was still as bright as fierce as it had been all those years ago. And so he stood, his hand frozen in a gesture of unintentional intimacy.

It was finally her who pulled back, laughing quietly. He drew a sharp breath, as though slapped, but then realised her laughter was entirely without bitterness.

"I'm sorry Chakotay, really I am. But just then, I couldn't help but feel Tuvok was going to hail us at any second."

So she had felt it too. He laughed with relief, then laughed harder as she reached for her com badge and found it wasn't there. At the back of his mind, it occurred to how much he'd been laughing during the last hour or so. In fact, more than he could remember laughing during the whole time since their return. Of course, there had been polite laughter at functions and parties, but nothing like this. He leaned on the counter for support, and she grabbed his arm, then promptly let go of it again.

"You're still soaking wet," she said, "And so am I. Do you have something to change into?"

He stood up straight. "Yes, I brought some clothes. And even a tent. I thought I may have to camp outside the cabin for quite some time, so I came prepared." He crouched down and searched through his bag. "Wait. I don't believe it."

"What's wrong?"

He looked sheepish. "I thought I'd packed a spare outfit as well as night clothes, but it isn't here."

"So put on your night clothes," she said, airily.

He stared at her.

"I've seen you in your pyjamas before, and there's no one else here. If it makes you feel more comfortable, I'll put on mine too."

"Done," he said quickly.

"There're lots of spare blankets, we can wrap up in them, then sit by that fire you're busy making. Now go and have a shower and get changed. Then make the fire." He opened his mouth to suggest she go first, but she held up a hand. "Don't argue. I need to get this coffee made."

He knew better than to come between her and her coffee, so he picked up his bag and went off in search of the bathroom.

***

Chakotay sat and watched the fire, waiting for Kathryn to return from getting changed. He used the time to replay the events of the afternoon in his mind - it hadn't gone too badly. It amazed him that she'd agreed to talk to him at all; he hadn't needed any of his carefully planned arguments and reasons. Still, he couldn't help worrying that she was currently climbing out the window in an attempt to escape him.

No. It was a stupid thought. She'd made it perfectly clear she was glad to see him. They had practically been flirting. Or had they? It occurred to him that Kathryn Janeway's normal manner bordered quite close to flirting. It had been most useful in many diplomatic missions, but had wreaked havoc on his own emotions. There'd been a hundred occasions where he'd read more into her actions than was actually there.

This next stage of the plan was the difficult part: explaining how he felt after so many years of trying not to show it. He didn't have any legends that would make it easier. For the thousandth time, he cursed the moment of doubt and weakness that had allowed him to be swayed by Seven's unexpected request.

In all fairness, there was only one reason he didn't turn Seven down. He'd honestly believed there was no chance for him and Kathryn.. But afterwards, B'Elanna and countless others had furiously told him otherwise. What he didn't think they realised was that he would have tried again anyway. He couldn't have lived with himself if he didn't make one last attempt. He only hoped this wouldn't drive her away again.. The long months since their return home had shown him how empty life could be without her.

"Chakotay?"

He turned, and saw her standing by the door, dressed in a silk nightgown. It was only after she'd walked to the table and started pouring the coffee that he managed to start breathing again.

She didn't seem to notice. "Would you like coffee or tea?"

"Coffee," he said, "And can I have - "

"Three sugars. I know." She smiled at him, and he felt a rush of delight at the fact she'd remembered this detail, however tiny.

It was a wonderful feeling, being in the company of someone who understood you so completely. But it was more than that. He'd forgotten what it felt like, the strange elation that was simply being in her presence.

She brought the coffees over to the sofa. "I'm sorry, but the replicator's broken and there isn't much food in the house."

He produced a container from his bag. "I had a feeling you'd be starving yourself, so luckily I brought some food. Including a highly nutritional coffee cake."

She pounced on it. "Coffee cake? Now I remember why I keep you around. What do you say to coffee cake dipped in coffee?"

"That sounds disgusting," he laughed, and she gave him a withering glance.

"If you don't want any, then I'll just have to eat it all myself."

"Hey, I didn't - "

"Too late. The coffee cake now belongs to me. But the replicator's serving daffodils if you're interested."

***

An hour later, they were still sitting sprawled on the sofa, just as they used to sit in Voyager's ready room. The only difference being they were both in their nightwear, and wrapped in several large, white blankets.

The coffee was finished, the fire was burning low, and Chakotay had managed to bring Kathryn up to date on what the crew were all up to. Discussing the crew had then caused the conversation to turn to some of the more memorable moments of their journey.

Chakotay was talking animatedly. "And then - remember - Jenny threw her tap shoes at him. And, after the Doctor had escaped - "

"Don't say it," Kathryn begged, choking with laughter, "Don't. I swear, I'll fall off this sofa if I laugh any more."

Chakotay continued on mercilessly. "After he'd escaped, Tuvok slipped on the yolk from the broken eggs…" he paused, struggling not to laugh.

"…landing on top of Harry," said Kathryn, beginning to recover.

"…Harry and his clarinet…" managed Chakotay

"Which got stuck in his nose," gasped Kathryn, and promptly fell off the sofa, dragging Chakotay with her.

They lay there, shaking with laughter. Finally Kathryn managed to sit up and wiped her eyes. "Yes, I can see them now. I hate to think what the Taquin Ambassador thought of us. It was definitely one of our more memorable talent nights. Probably the most."

"I don't know," said Chakotay, standing and pulling her back on to the sofa. "I think the first one was pretty memorable."

He remembered every detail of that evening vividly. Or rather, every detail of her dance. The way her white dress had glowed in the spotlight, every graceful movement of her slender arms…

"Janeway to Chakotay!" She was waving a hand in front of his face, laughing.

He turned. "Sorry, what?"

A blanket landed on his head. "Thanks," he said, his voice muffled. "I think I might just stay under here. Protects me from further missiles."

"You're safe, I promise you. No more attacks," came her voice, as she pulled the blanket off him. "Aw, your hair's all rumpled." She made a slight movement with her hand, as if she'd intended to smooth it down, then had decided against it.

"But seriously Chakotay, we've been talking for ages, and you still haven't told me what you've been up to since I last saw you. You told me all about the crew but didn't mention yourself."

He smoothed down his hair and looked at her. The truth was probably the easiest answer, though he didn't think she'd like his reasons. "I was teaching at the Academy."

She flinched. "The Academy? So close! How is it I didn't know about this? Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"Probably no one told you because they all assumed you knew. And as for me - I wanted to meet you in person to tell you, but you were never free. And I wasn't sure if you even wanted to see me"

A shadow of guilt passed across her face. "I'm so sorry Chakotay, I didn't - "

"I know," he said. "Don't worry about it."

She pulled a blanket round herself and offered him the other half. "But teaching, Chakotay? What were you teaching? Did you enjoy it?"

"Oh, I was giving lectures about some of our 'Delta Quadrant Adventures'. And yes, I enjoyed it. But people had difficulty believing the things that happened to us - if I hadn't been giving a first-person account, they would probably have just laughed at me."

She smiled. "I suppose, in retrospect, some of it does seem a bit far fetched." She paused. "Okay, all of it. Some things I have difficulty believing myself."

He gave her a look of mock-horror. "Really? Come on, you were the one who said "Weird is part of the job". By the way, did you hear they were considering putting that on the application form?"

"Oh, really," she smirked, then pretended to consider it. "Yes, it would be quite eloquent. 'Join Starfleet. It's Weird.'"

"Both accurate and concise. So, shall I get some more coffee?"

"Stop sidetracking me," she said reproachfully. "Why did you choose teaching? There must have been hundreds of options open to you."

"There were, but I liked the sound of teaching. And also," he bit his lip, "I wanted to stay near where you were" He looked at her cautiously, but her face betrayed nothing.

"Still keeping an eye on me," she said, but it didn't sound as flippant as she'd intended. She cleared her throat. "So go on, tell me more about the teaching. I'll put a log on the fire, and make that coffee you suggested."

As she made the coffee, he regaled her with various anecdotes from his lectures. He was a natural storyteller, she thought, and realised how much she missed the way he used to weave the smallest incident in the Messhall into an epic tale.

"Here's the coffee," she said, handing it to him, then nestled back into the cocoon of white blankets.

The drank in silence for a few moments, then something occurred to her. "Chakotay - you said earlier that you were between jobs. Did you quit teaching?"

He stopped drinking. "To tell the truth, I was getting a bit tired of it. It was always the same questions, about the Borg, about Q, you know what I mean. And although I explained as clearly as I could, it became obvious I was never going to get them to understand what it was like out there, not for a second. But that's not the reason I left as soon as I did."

He gazed towards the fire for a moment, then continued. "Well, even though the term had ended, there were a number of meetings I was supposed to attend before Christmas. But suddenly, news came that you'd quit your job and had disappeared entirely. I was worried and wanted to go and look for you, but I was told I had to attend these meetings. And I said I couldn't. They told me they couldn't make special allowances just because I was famous… did people ever say that to you? I hate that."

Kathryn nodded, "Yes, they did. It drove me crazy."

"Well, they explained that the only way I could get out of the meetings was to resign. So I did." He laughed at her shocked expression. "Don't worry, it wasn't just for you, I was intending to leave soon anyway. Billy is taking over for me, he's really looking forward to it."

She shook her head. "You're unbelievable. A Maquis rebel to the core. But do you mean Billy Telfer, lecturing? He's got some much more confident since, since - "

"Since you took him out for a fieldtrip and an alien burst out of his neck." She stared at him, and he patted her arm. "No, really Kathryn, it did him the world of good."

She sighed. "I try my best."

Chakotay squeezed her hand. "I'm being serious. You did a lot for everyone on our crew."

"Not as much as you. How you managed to be both Commander and Counsellor at the same time I'll never know."

"I managed," he grinned, then looked at her soberly. "But they've missed you, you know. They were always asking me about you. Oh, they all understood how busy you were. B'Elanna hacked into your schedule once and almost had a heart attack. Is that why you left?"

"In a way," she admitted. "I really left because I hated not having time to see anyone. It finally occurred to me that I don't owe anything to Starfleet, whereas our crew is a different matter. I missed them all so much, it was like…" she lowered her voice. "It was like a constant ache."

She tried to go on, but the words wouldn't come. Glancing up at him, she saw he understood anyway. He always understood. He was still holding her hand, silently giving his support, not asking for anything in return.

"And I missed you," she whispered. "All the time."

Tired of fighting impulse, she gave in and leaned against his shoulder. He wrapped an arm round her and turned to speak into her hair. "I missed you too."

***

They sat like that for a long time, without speaking, watching the fire burn low to embers.

It was Chakotay who broke the silence. "This is how I imagined it, when I pictured us reaching Earth again."

She opened her eyes and looked up at him. "No long trials or prison?"

"No, though sometimes I thought of that. But this one was my 'best case scenario'. The one to think of late at night - you know those nights, after a long day of casualties and repairs? When you'd lie awake and think of what life would be like once we got home?"

"Yes, I know those nights. This is how you imagined it?"

"Exactly. Sitting before a fire, in a cabin deep in the wilderness, drinking real coffee with my best friend."

Kathryn smiled in response, but her heart sank. Best friend. She was delighted to be his best friend, but if he'd pictured them together as friends, then she'd been interpreting his recent behaviour all wrong. She'd actually begun to think it wasn't too late. Ridiculous. It was foolish and self-centred to imagine that - just because he'd explained he wasn't with Seven - he meant he wanted to be with her.

His voice broke into her thoughts. "How about you? How did you picture being home again?"

She laughed lightly. "Oh, I had lots of pictures. Being with my family. Going for coffee in the Night Owl. But those weren't the ones I most often thought of."

"And what were they?" he asked, softly.

"I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

She looked up at him. Big mistake. She knew he would read it in her expression, what she wanted to say. Suddenly, she didn't care. She was so tired of hiding.

"Why not? Because you're in them, Chakotay."

Comprehension dawned on his face; she looked away so she wouldn't have to see the pity that would follow.

"And I know they're not possible," she said, trying to put him at ease. "I know it's too late."

He was silent. Finally she was forced to turn and look at him. She found him gazing at her with an expression she hadn't seen for many years. It made her catch her breath.

"Are you so sure it's too late?" he asked her. She suddenly remembered the clearing of snow, back in the forest. The way she'd hesitated before it. Almost as if she'd been waiting for something. Or someone.

"What did you wish for, each year on Voyager?" he whispered, and handed her something he'd been hiding behind his back. "I saved this for you, from the party after we got back."

Kathryn stared at the small bone she was now holding, then looked up at him.

He smiled. "Make a wish, Kathryn."

The End

Feedback or constructive criticism? Please.

© Violet, December 2004. Please email me to post/distribute elsewhere.