Let Your Conscience Be Your Guide
By Ralkana

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Kathryn stared down into his casket, numb, saying nothing. Mutely, she looked up, staring wildly at those around it. Tom, his blue eyes dull and his face sorrowful, had his arm around his wife, who was straight and stoic, completely ignoring the silent tears coursing their way down her cheeks. Harry was openly crying, his fists clenched at his sides. Tuvok—Tuvok!—looked nearly grief-stricken. And behind them stretched the ranks of the entire crew. The former Maquis stood in front—not by conscious decision, they had simply drifted there—and they were all as stoic and silent as B’Elanna.

Though they stared straight ahead, she felt their minds focused on her. As she watched, they began to look back at her, and there was accusation in their looks. Everyone’s looks. She felt the guilt well up inside her, breaking through the walls she’d fought so hard to put up. You sent him on this mission…

She broke their gaze, unable to deal with that thought. She stared back down into the one face that had never judged her, the face of the man that had always supported her. She couldn’t even say his name, not even in her head. How was she ever going to give a eulogy for him? She had to get it right, for him, for her crew, but she didn’t know how she was going to open her mouth without screaming.

She studied him, able to stare at him now in a way she’d never allowed herself to do before. His appearance shocked her. His death had been quick—a sudden burst of fire from an enemy weapon, on a planet they didn’t even have a name for—and she knew it hadn’t caused him to look the way he did now.

His face was gaunt, and there were dark circles around his eyes. Deep lines bracketed his mouth and his eyes, and he looked… angry.

It felt like a final condemnation. He’d told her once that he had spent his life in search of peace, and for a while it had seemed like he’d found it on her ship. But now, in death, that peace seemed lost, and it could never be regained.

She had no idea how to grieve this momentous loss. She knew it hadn’t really hit her yet, but when it did, she had no idea how she would act. She was not a grieving widow, though some tiny rational part of her brain knew that when it hit her, the devastation it would cause would make the aftermath of Justin’s death look like a picnic. She couldn’t even conscientiously grieve as his best friend; their relationship had been so strained lately, and that was her biggest regret.

She knew she’d been recently distancing herself from him, and she’d seen the hurt in his eyes, but she’d had no choice. She’d felt her resolve weakening in the face of his constant devotion, and she couldn’t allow that. The only way to stop it was to take herself away from his temptation. And now, she’d never have to fight that temptation again. He was gone…

Kathryn felt her knees weaken at the thought, and she locked them, biting her lip to stop her tears from falling. She turned to address her crew, willing herself to get through this, but before she could say a word, she was roughly brushed aside. She fought for a moment to retain her balance, both emotionally and physically, and when she was steady again, she whirled to stare at the interloper.

It was a woman; Kathryn could tell from the back, even though the form was draped in flowing black. She was tall and lithe, and she moved with the kind of willowy grace that made Kathryn feel gauche and awkward.

Before Kathryn could demand to know who this woman was, the tall form stretched out a trembling arm and placed a rose in the casket. Kathryn stared in astonishment at the pink and yellow rose. It was a peace rose, the kind he’d always given her. Always, after an argument or a particularly tense battle, or sometimes just on random days, one would appear in a vase in her ready room. They never spoke of them; it was a custom she appreciated greatly but could never mention. Lately, though, they’d stopped appearing, and now she knew why. He’d been giving them to someone else.

The woman bowed her head in pain and grief, and suddenly Kathryn felt herself being shoved out of the way again. Her crew was moving forward to surround the strange woman, paying little or no regard to their captain. She found herself on the outside of a ring of people, far away from him, from where she needed to be. She pushed and shoved her way back through, back to his side. When she got there, she stepped up next to the woman in black, paying her no attention, and stared down at him again.

What she saw this time did make her cry out and clutch the side of the casket for support. He looked different now, radically different, and while that should not be possible after death, it was true. The harsh lines and planes and angles of his face had faded, as had the dark circles around his eyes. His brow was smooth, and his lips were full and nearly smiling, so different from the thin line they’d been pressed into before. The anger was gone. He looked peaceful now. At peace. The strange woman had given him more than just a peace rose; she’d given him peace itself. The peace Kathryn could no longer give him, he had found somewhere else.

When that realization hit her, she cried out again. It was a harsh, guttural, keening cry that was ignored by everyone around her. She found that she’d been right—once she started screaming, she couldn’t stop. The sound went on and on until it robbed her of her breath.

"NO!" With a gasping, shuddering cry, she tried to leap forward. Her legs tangled in the blankets and she hit the deck, knocking the rest of the breath from her lungs. She looked wildly around her cabin trying to orient herself, unable to stop the sobbing cries from ripping themselves from her throat.

She fought to convince herself that it was a nightmare, but the struggle was useless. It had been the most realistic and disturbing dream she’d had for years—maybe ever—and the sensation of loss was still palpable within her.

Even as the wracking sobs continued, she tried to make sense of the dream. The painful distance she’d acknowledged—the distance she could feel even now—really was there. She’d been trying to pull herself back, to create desperately needed space between them. The evolving, blossoming relationships all over Voyager in the wake of the Paris-Torres wedding had been constantly racing through her mind, and she had felt herself weakening in the face of Chakotay’s constant presence and devotion. Unwilling—and perhaps unable—to give in to it, she’d pushed against it even harder.

He’d been drawing back too, to protect himself. She’d seen the momentary pain that flickered in his dark eyes whenever she declined his invitations to dinner or a game of velocity, and those offers had gradually become much rarer in frequency. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d entered her ready room at shift start to find a peace rose in the vase on the table.

That brought back all the memories of the nightmare, and her crying, which had lessened, began again in earnest. Kathryn knew she’d been winding her emotional control ever tighter around herself, coiling it like a spring, and on an intellectual level, she’d been expecting it to snap soon. She’d dreaded that moment, knowing it would lead to a situation like this. She took a moment to be thankful that it had happened here in her quarters late at night instead of on the bridge in the middle of a crisis.

As she lay on the deck, letting out months of pent-up emotion, Kathryn became aware of a growing sense of disquiet within herself. Something was wrong—very wrong. Then, with another sob, she realized what it was. He hadn’t called her.

She knew her distress was easily audible through the bulkhead that separated Chakotay’s cabin from hers; the soundproofing was not perfect to begin with, and more than six years out here, listening for the smallest change in the ship’s sounds that might signal a problem, had made everyone’s hearing incredibly acute. She’d heard him cry out in his sleep—not often, but it had happened. She’d never done anything about it, but he always had when the situation was reversed. Every time she’d had a nightmare or a minor breakdown—she’d never had one on the magnitude of tonight’s, though—he would call her almost immediately.

There would be the chirp of her combadge, and then the concerned and strained, "Chakotay to Janeway. Are you okay, Kathryn?" The statement was such a perfect blend of professional interest and personal concern; it precisely fit their complex situation, and she always felt like laughing when she heard it. She would brush him off with vague reassurances, as she always did, and tell him it wasn’t necessary for him to check up on her, and he would always agree, but he would still call her the next time she cried out in the middle of the night.

This time though, she’d been crying out—and then just crying loudly—for at least ten minutes, but he hadn’t called. She could think of two reasons why this might be. Either he wasn’t in his quarters, which was quite meaningful at this time of night on a night when she knew he wasn’t on duty, or he just didn’t care anymore. It didn’t really matter though, which it was; either way, it came down to the same thing. She’d lost him. He no longer cared, no longer loved her the way he had before. She’d finally pushed him far enough away.

With a low moan, she curled herself up into an even tighter ball and let her misery overtake her once again. Maybe with some luck she’d cry herself into exhaustion and perhaps she’d fall asleep again—without dreaming this time.

Suddenly, there was a bright flash of light and a sigh.

"Kathy, Kathy, Kathy."

Kathryn pounded her clenched fist on the deck once in frustration. Goddammit. On top of everything else…

"Q, I don’t know why you’re here, but go away. Right now. I’m not in the mood tonight."

Q snickered. "You’re never in the mood, Kathy dear. But I’m here to help you; it’s no fun to torment you when you’re miserable."

She sighed, and still speaking into the deck plates, replied, "I really don’t want your help, Q. Look, you’ve shown some sort of friendliness toward me before, God only knows why. Now, I’m asking you—begging you—if that friendliness does exist, please take note of it and leave me alone right now. I really would rather be by myself."

"But that’s the problem! You’re by yourself entirely too much of the time. You need companionship. You really should try it, you know. It’s wonderful. And since you’re the one who helped me embrace it, I’m here to help you. Consider it partial payment of a debt that can never be completely repaid."

She sighed again. "You’re not going to go away, are you?"

"Nope!" he replied happily.

She sat up, not bothering to cover herself. Q’s eyes bugged out at the sight of "Kathy" in peach silk, but she ignored him. "Look, Q. I don’t need your help with my social life. It’s perfectly fine the way it is. I’ll be quite happy to consider that debt paid if you go away and leave my ship alone. Forever."

"It’s not fine! You’re miserable, Kathy! Look at yourself."

"I’m not—" she stopped herself and sighed. He was right, and the worst part was, he knew it. Smug omniscient bastard, she thought wretchedly. "Fine. Yes. Right now, I’m not feeling that great, but normally I’m okay, so I don’t need your help. Therefore, you can go away and leave me alone!"

He looked slyly at her out of the corner of his eye, which was quite a feat, since he was standing directly in front of her. "Would you like to see what Chuckles is doing right now?"

Suddenly he found himself slammed up against the bulkhead with her arm across his throat. He was so surprised that he forgot for a moment that he could get out of it anytime he wanted.

"Chakotay!" she hissed between clenched teeth. "His name is Chakotay! Not ‘Chuckles’ or ‘Tattoo Boy’ or ‘Wilderness Boy’ or any of the other nicknames you think are so damn cute! I don’t give a damn if you call me Kathy, but he has worked for a long time to make sure that name is honorable in his own eyes, and you will treat it—and him—with respect, or I will try my best to kick your ass, omnipotent or not!" And she pressed hard one more time against his throat for emphasis.

"You really do love him, don’t you?" Q asked in a soft voice, ignoring the fact that she was crushing his windpipe.

Stunned, she let him go. "What the hell are you talking about, Q?"

"You wouldn’t have reacted that way if I’d made fun of Paris, or Kim, or that furball you call a chief cook. It’s only when it comes to him that the protective mother tigress gene in you comes out."

"That’s not true. I feel that strongly about protecting all of my crew. I’m their captain."

"That was not the captain that just threw me against the wall! That was Kathy. It’s a good thing I like you, Kathy, or you could find yourself right back where you started six and a half years ago."

She looked annoyed instead of properly terrified. "I don’t think so. You can do that, but you won’t send us home? How does that work? I don’t think the continuum would be very happy about something like that if you tried it."

Q looked astonished again. "You know, you’re the first person that’s ever called that bluff! Just another example of why you deserve my attention, deserve to be happy."

She growled in frustration. "I am happy, Q!"

"Fine! I can see you won’t listen to me, so I’m going to have to show you." He took her hand and tried to lead her into the living area.

She resisted. "Q, I really don’t want to see what he’s doing right now, okay? Just leave it alone, please."

"Is that fear I hear in your voice, Kathy? The great, intrepid Captain Janeway, afraid?"

She stopped pulling away from him, placed her hands on her hips, and glared at him. The effect was somewhat marred by the fact that she was still in her nightgown. She noticed Q appraising her and crossed her arms tightly across her chest.

With a smug smile, he snapped his fingers.

Kathryn gasped. The whole bulkhead between his quarters and hers was suddenly transparent. It wasn’t gone—there was obviously still something there—but it was as if it had become a window. She looked wildly around for something to cover herself with, but nothing was at hand.

"Oh, so I get to see you looking lovely in silk, but Chu—Chakotay can’t? Poor boy. Lucky me. Don’t worry; it’s one way. He can’t see anything. Besides, he’s not exactly in the ogling mood right now, is he?"

And then she saw him. He was kneeling on the deck in front of the ‘window,’ with his forehead pressed against it. One hand was clenched at his side, but the other was pressed flat against the bulkhead, fingers spread, as if he was trying to reach for something. He was wearing even less than she was—namely nothing—and while she might have noticed that eagerly at another time, right now all of her attention was focused on his face. It was drawn and gaunt, much as it had been in her nightmare, but not in anger. She could easily see the pain in his expressive features. His eyes were closed, but there were clearly tear tracks running down his face. She could just make out the glint of his combadge as it lay on the carpet several meters away from him.

She looked wordlessly back at Q, eyes wide, and he smiled, without the smugness this time. "Not exactly what you were expecting, is it?"

"What… why?"

Exasperated, he said, "Why do you think?" Rolling his eyes, he snapped his fingers again.

Nothing had changed, except that when she glanced back into Chakotay’s cabin, she saw that he was in bed, asleep. Then, there was a loud cry from her sleeping quarters. Rushing there, she saw herself on the floor, staring wildly around the cabin. Kathryn cringed at how helpless and pathetic her other self looked, especially when she really started sobbing.

Q swiftly grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. "Honestly, woman, you are so frustrating sometimes! Do you think I brought you back here so you could see yourself! You’re looking the wrong way!"

Before she could reply, he’d snapped his fingers again, and now they were standing in Chakotay’s quarters. She looked at Q in surprise, and he replied, "Relax, he still can’t see you. But watch."

She stared down at him, sleeping peacefully. She felt ill, suddenly. It was like staring into his casket all over again. She longed to crawl under the covers with him, even though she knew it wouldn’t do either of them any good here and now. He probably wouldn’t even feel it, and she didn’t know what the experience would be like for her. If he turned out to be insubstantial in this vision of Q’s, it would only serve to further unbalance her emotional state.

Then she heard the loud cry that came from her quarters. Chakotay heard it too; his eyes flew open as he sat up in alarm. Kathryn gasped and jumped back, even though she knew he couldn’t tell she was there. And then she forced herself to stop analyzing everything and simply watch him.

His eyes closed and his face crumpled as he realized what was going on next door. He grabbed for his combadge and stared at it but didn’t activate it. Then there was another loud cry and more loud sobbing, and Chakotay’s face morphed again into a rictus of pain. Seemingly without any knowledge of his own actions, he threw back the bedcovers and ran to the bulkhead. Kathryn followed him, wanting to see him, wanting to see his face. Q hung back and let her experience it on her own.

He stared at the bulkhead as if he could see through it. He appeared to be waiting for the crying to end, and when it didn’t, he grew more and more agitated, pacing in tight circles. He seemed about to call her several times, but each time he stopped himself. As the sounds of anguish went on and on next door, he finally clenched the combadge in his fist, activating it. "Chakotay to…" he murmured, but he didn’t finish.

"Please restate request," the computer’s voice broke in after several seconds.

"Never mind," he whispered, flinging the combadge away from him and falling to his knees. He pressed both hands up against the bulkhead, murmuring her name, and his tears began to flow in sync with the ones he was hearing. Eventually the noises from her quarters slowed, and then became too quiet to hear, and he slumped down, dropping one clenched fist to his side. This was how she’d seen him before.

With another flash of light, they were back in her quarters. She checked the bedroom, and realized they were back to the here and now. The bulkhead was still transparent, and he was still kneeling there. She turned to Q, in order to keep from staring at Chakotay.

"Well, Kathy, what do you think of that?"

With a shush, she indicated with a gesture that he should keep his voice down. Q rolled his eyes and sighed.

"You mortals and your limited grasp of space and time. Relax, I said. He can’t hear you. What’s wrong anyway, you don’t want him to know there’s a man in your quarters?"

"It’s not that. I just don’t want to wake him, especially to the sound of you in my quarters after that. He’d be over here immediately to find out if I’m okay, and I really don’t want that right now!"

"You didn’t answer my first question, Kathy. What do you think of all that?"

She sighed. "Well, he didn’t call me. That’s good. Maybe he’s finally starting to move on," she said in a shaky voice, even though her heart pounded and part of her felt like screaming for even saying such a thing.

"Is that really what you want, Kathy? Think very carefully," Q said in a soft voice that was completely unlike the arrogant whine in which he usually spoke.

"Why?" she whispered.

"I’m going to show you one last thing. It hasn’t happened yet. It may never happen. It’s only one possible path out of thousands… millions even. But I think you need to see it, Kathy. I don’t think you’ll ever really understand without it." With another snap of his fingers, they were back in Chakotay’s quarters, but now they were in the living area. He was awake, and even in the very low light, she could see the hint of a smile on his face. He was bent over the very nicely set table, lighting candles, and she wondered who his action was for.

Suddenly, there was the shimmer of a transport. Seven of Nine was standing there, a huge bouquet of flowers in her hand. Kathryn gasped but was unable to stop watching.

"Am I early?" she asked, with a smile.

"No, you're right on time," Chakotay said with a little smile of his own in return, adding, "Something wrong with the door?"

"I didn't think it would be discreet to be seen carrying flowers to the first officer's quarters."

Taking them from her, he sniffed them with another of those little smiles. They were standing extremely close to one another. Kathryn felt like screaming. He asked Seven something about her research, and she smiled and nodded in reply. It was a smile Kathryn had never seen on the ex-borg before. It was beautiful. Kathryn watched in horror as the expression on Chakotay’s face softened even further.

"I should put these in water," he said, moving away, but before he could do anything more, Seven literally grabbed him and pulled him back to her. As they kissed—passionately—Kathryn finally looked away, unable to watch anymore.

With another snap of Q’s fingers, they were back in her quarters again.

"Seven?" she whispered disbelievingly.

Q said nothing.

"Why Seven?" she asked bitterly. "Did he do it just to hurt me?"

Q laughed sardonically. "My, my, isn’t that just a little bit self-centered, Kathy darling? They looked perfectly happy to me! Did he look like a man out for retribution to you?"

"Then why Seven?"

"Oh, you know he’s not that bright when it comes to blondes, and your pet drone is somewhat of a force of nature."

"Stop! If you showed me that for a reason, I want to know why!"

"Well, Kathy, you’ve never told the poor man your feelings, though it’s clearer than crystal to all and sundry how he feels about you. Maybe he just got tired of waiting for a day he was increasingly sure would never come. Maybe he got tired of feeling bitter and alone. Chakotay is not a man who takes to the combination of anger and loneliness well, Kathy. He tends to go out and hurt people, himself included. I could probably dredge up a few Cardassians as proof of that, but I think you know that what I’m saying is the truth. Maybe he figured your protégée was as close as he could ever get to you."

Kathryn’s mouth was dry, but she forced herself to speak. "How… how far away is that scene, Q? It is in the future? Not in the past, or the present?" Her voice took on an almost desperate tone, but she tried to ignore it.

"A possible future, and not as far away as you might think."

Her shoulders came up and she pressed her lips into a thin line. "Well, if that’s the way the future is supposed to unfold, I won’t do anything to stop it." Her voice quavered slightly at the end of her statement, but she looked no less determined.

Q exploded. "Oh for god’s sake! You know, for a woman who claims it gives her a headache, you normally have a very good grasp of temporal mechanics, so don’t play this game with me! Right now, you’re simply being stubborn. Just because I showed it to you doesn’t mean it’s supposed to happen! For all you know, I made that up!"

She glared at him. "Did you?"

"Well, no. But that’s only one possibility! I can show you more if you’d like. Him with other women, you with other men. I can show you the ones where you get together tomorrow, and the ones where you both die decades from now, bitter and alone. Or the ones where you get home and have fifteen children. Or the ones where you get home with fifteen children!"

"Children," she murmured, unaware of doing so.

Suddenly, as if from far away, she heard the shriek of a child’s laughter, followed closely by what was unmistakably Chakotay’s deep, rumbling chuckle. The sound of Chakotay with children made something in her ache unbearably.

Her eyes narrowed. "That’s not playing fair, Q."

"Fair?! Whoever said I was fair, Kathy? You don’t seem to have the desired reaction to fair—fair is what he’s been playing for years, and look where it’s gotten him so far! I think it’s time for some unfairness!

"All those scenarios I just mentioned are possibilities. But they aren’t the point! The point isn’t what might happen! What do you want to happen? That’s the point!"

"Dammit Q, I know what I want! That’s not the problem! The problem is that I can’t have what I want! I’m sorry if that decision isn’t what he wants, or what you want, or what everyone on this damn ship wants, but that’s the way it is! That’s the way it has to be!"

"If it’s what you want, and it’s what he wants, and it’s what ‘everyone on this damn ship’ wants, what’s the problem?"

"The problem is that I am the captain of this ship, and he is the first officer. The command structure—and the proper functioning of the ship—depends on the ability of one of us to function if something happens to the other one! How are we supposed to do that if we’re embroiled in a relationship?!"

He snorted. "Oh please. And you think that if one of you dies now, the other one will just be able to move on, as if nothing’s wrong? You already have an idea of how you might react if something happens to him. That sure was an impartial, captainly reaction to the loss of a crewman, Kathy!"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"The dream? Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten it!"

"No. No, I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. Did you cause it, Q? Because if you did, thank you ever so much."

"Oh, no, that wasn’t me. Effective though, wasn’t it? What need have I to influence your thoughts when your subconscious is already in such turmoil anyway? A tall, graceful woman, hmm? Wonder who that could have been… wonder if she was blonde. Come to think of it, I didn’t see little Annika at Chakotay’s funeral. I wonder why that is?" he asked slyly.

"Q!"

"Sorry, got a little sidetracked. The point is, Kathy, if something happens to him, do you really think that you’ll be able to just go on with things as normal? That the pain will magically go away because you never told him how you feel? Don’t you think it’s more likely that you’ll spend the rest of your life regretting that you never told him?"

She opened her mouth but didn’t speak, and he could see her weakening. He pressed on, relentlessly. "Or, what if you die first? What if an away mission next week goes wrong and you don’t come back from it? Do you think he’ll be able to function better because the two of you aren’t in an open relationship? How can he be a better captain to your crew if he can’t grieve openly—and you know he wouldn’t because he’d know that you wouldn’t approve of it. Would you want him to go to his grave never knowing what he meant to you? Never able to have resolution? I can show you that, you know. I can show you him decades from now, old and gray and alone, cursing your name and your protocol and parameters." He raised his hand as if to snap his fingers, and she jumped forward, grabbing his arm.

"No! No, I don’t want to see that. I can’t do this, Q. Even if you’re right about our reactions to the other’s death—"

"Which I am."

"Even if you are, that doesn’t negate the fact that either of us might use a relationship—even unconsciously—to play favorites. That can’t happen!"

"Kathy! You already have the feelings. They’re already there! If that were going to happen—unconsciously—it would have already! It hasn’t! If it’s going to happen, one of you will have to do it consciously. If that’s the case, it doesn’t really matter if you’re sharing a bed, does it?"

"It goes against everything I’ve ever been taught, everything I believe in. If I start to question this, who knows what else I’ll begin to question, and then I’ll probably turn into someone very like Rudy Ransom."

Q looked at her in astonishment. "You can’t honestly believe that would ever happen? Your crew would not allow that!" He stepped aside, gesturing to Chakotay’s still-kneeling body. "He would not allow that! He’s already shown he wouldn’t! Now you’re just grasping at straws, Kathy. Besides, how do you know you’ll like yourself any more if you get home and you’re still alone?"

Before she could respond, there was an image in her mind’s eye: a lean, silver-haired woman, alone and in the dark, with only a steaming mug for company. Though the woman said nothing, she exuded an air of cynicism and bitterness, as though they were scents. There was a hardness in her eyes that Kathryn hoped never to see in her mirror. It was not a pleasant image, and stunned again, she stayed silent.

"Think about it Kathy. Your crew approves—hell, they’ve been betting on the two of you for years! You know how he feels. You know how you feel. Do you really want to get home fifteen or twenty years from now as her?"

"Is that how long it’s going to take?" she whispered.

"Maybe. Maybe it will take thirty. Maybe you’ll find a wormhole and get home tomorrow. Does it really matter?"

"Yes!"

"I don’t know. It depends, on you, on your crew, on a lot of things. How do you know that you’re not supposed to get together and get rid of the ridiculous sexual tension that’s between you, so that you can focus on your ship?"

She bristled. "I am entirely focused on my ship! Haven’t you been telling me that’s my problem?"

"No. I’ve been telling you that you’re making that the problem. You can’t tell me that these feelings aren’t already distracting you!"

"Why are you here, Q!?"

"Maybe I’m your conscience." When she glared at him, clearly disbelieving it, he shrugged. "Why not? I could be. After all, I nearly convinced Jean-Luc that I was God."

"I’m only one person! Why are you so fixated on my happiness?"

"Because I like you, Kathy. I thought you worthy enough to mate with me, remember? Surely that’s worth something." She snorted, and he said speculatively, "How do you know that the fate of Voyager doesn’t depend on your happiness, on this relationship? What if by denying it, something terrible happens to your ship and that changes the balance of power in this quadrant and starts an intergalactic war? All because you couldn’t say those three little words…"

"I find that very hard to believe."

"Oh really? Do you want me to show you?"

"You could show me anything, Q. Anything is possible!"

He smiled, and it was a slow, satisfied smile. "Exactly. You said it, Kathy, not me. Anything is possible. I’m not telling it you it will be easy, but when have you ever backed away from a challenge? Think about it, but don’t take too long. Who knows how much time you’ve really got left? Besides me, of course."

And in a flash of light, he vanished.

Kathryn gasped as she could feel time flow back into the room. Behind the still-transparent bulkhead, Chakotay’s eyes fluttered, but he didn’t move or wake. Practically hypnotized, she watched his chest rise and fall evenly as she thought of all that Q had shown and told her.

Three of his "gifts" in particular kept jumping out at her: the sound of Chakotay with children, the older version of herself, and Chakotay and Seven kissing. Kathryn found that she wanted the first one just as much as she didn’t want the other two. Well, if that’s gonna happen, you’d better get started because you don’t have too much "family time" left, and you know it…

She knew she loved Chakotay, and she knew that if she started anything, it would be a lifetime commitment, so she wasn’t worried about the inability to transfer one of them off the ship after a quick affair. She was very worried, however, about what would happen if they fought and things ended badly. She and Chakotay rarely really argued, but the few times they had, always over ship’s business, had been awful for everyone—him, her, the ship, the crew—everyone.

Then she realized that the very fact that she was contemplating a relationship with him after those arguments was a sign. Yes, they had argued intensely, but they had always mended things. And, she thought, it might be easier to mend things with a solid, open relationship between them rather than the various unrequited feelings that existed now. She doubted, in any case, that they would have the kind of vicious personal fights that had seemed to be a hallmark of Tom and B’Elanna’s early relationship. Each was already extremely familiar with the other’s bad habits; they had lived, after all, with each other in close and personal quarters for several months on New Earth, not to mention the closeness they shared on Voyager. There wasn’t anyone on the ship who knew more about her than Chakotay, and she knew the reverse was true as well.

Kathryn knew that Q was also right about their deaths. Not about the timing, of course—he had been as vague and ambiguous as ever when it came to that—but about her reaction to his death, and his reaction to hers. Things would not automatically be better just because they had never begun a relationship, and—as Q had said—the regrets would be enough to make the life of whichever survived into a living hell.

She also knew she couldn’t put this off for the sake of the crew any longer. Q had confirmed her suspicions that they were betting on a relationship between her and Chakotay; she wouldn’t be surprised if the entire crew believed the command team was already involved in an intimate relationship. The very fact that they were betting on it showed approval; otherwise, they would have heard the complaints, either first, second, or thirdhand. Somebody would have told them, warned them—probably anonymously.

She realized Q had easily and meticulously poked holes in the fabric of all of her rationally constructed arguments. She shook her head. Maybe he had been exactly what she needed. She couldn’t discuss this with anyone on the ship; she had had no one with whom to argue it. Chakotay was obviously out of the question, and Tuvok—her only other confidant—was the chief of security, and a Vulcan one at that. He would have agreed with her every argument. Maybe she had just needed someone to rationalize it for her, to tell her that what she was contemplating wouldn’t cause a warp core breach.

Kathryn shook herself out of her reverie. What the hell are you thinking? There was no way this could happen. Sure, they might start a relationship tonight, and when the ship got home in thirty years, no one would blink an eye. But what if they got home tomorrow? How could she explain that she had held fast to protocol for so many years and then had thrown it all out in one night?

And that is the crux of the matter. Which mattered more to her, Starfleet’s opinion of her, or Chakotay?

All told, she had given Starfleet twenty-five years of her life, and she had done it willingly. If she had been in the Alpha Quadrant, she probably would have willingly given the rest of it. But out here, for the past six and a half years, Starfleet had been her life, fully and completely. It wasn’t a matter of a mission followed by leave followed by another mission. Out here, she was Starfleet, and that was it; she could never remove the mantle of command. She couldn’t take it anymore, she realized. She was going crazy; no human was meant for this amount of stress and emotional detachment. She had a man she loved dearly who loved her and was willing to help her through it all, willing to support her both personally and professionally, and suddenly that was all that mattered to her. She’d deal with Starfleet when they got home, whether it was tomorrow or in thirty years.

Not just a man, she thought as she came back to herself again, a beautiful man. This time she took a much closer look at him. She crept up to the bulkhead and examined him. She knew that she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t help herself. Besides, if all went well, she would be seeing everything much more closely in a very short while.

Though her gaze lingered for several moments on his body, she was ultimately drawn to his face. His beautiful, expressive features, which could tell her so much without any words. She longed to touch him, and she unconsciously reached out and stroked the bulkhead by his jaw. Without warning, his eyes fluttered open. Kathryn jumped away, biting back a cry of surprise. Her heart was racing, but he didn’t acknowledge her, or the fact that there was suddenly a large window between their quarters.

Q was right, she thought, it’s one way. Chakotay stood stiffly, stretching like a cat, and a low throbbing pulse manifested itself in Kathryn’s abdomen. Mmm, I want that. All of it. Right now. And, decision made, she ran for her sleeping area to find her combadge. Like all of her decisions, once made it would be instantly carried out. This one especially. She wanted no time to think it over and talk herself out of it.

When she ran back into the living area, he was still there, still stretching. With all of Q’s temporal shifting, she wasn’t sure exactly how long he’d been kneeling there, but however long it had been, he was paying for it now. She squeezed her combadge between her fingers.

"Janeway to Chakotay."

She had to fight her laughter as he looked wildly around the room and then practically dove for his combadge, which was still lying on the floor in the shadows.

"Chakotay here. What can I do for you, Captain?" he said, turning and staring at her through the bulkhead. It was unnerving, even though she knew he couldn’t see her.

"Kathryn, Chakotay. This isn’t a business call."

His face grew puzzled. "Okay," he said slowly. "What can I do for you, Kathryn?"

"I’m sorry. It’s late. Did I wake you?"

"No. No, I was… meditating."

She suppressed a snort. She wondered how often he used that excuse when he was doing other things.

"I… I had a nightmare. A pretty bad one."

He grinned wryly and a hand came up to tug at his ear as he nodded his head. "I thought you might have," he said finally.

"Chakotay, I could… I could use some company. Are you up to it?"

She nearly lost it when he unconsciously looked down. He wasn’t yet, but she had a feeling it wouldn’t take him very long. Now, that might be fun… comm sex, only I’d get to see him…

"Sure," he responded. "Just give me a minute to… change my clothes."

Or put some on. "Oh, don’t worry about that. Just come as you are," she said innocently, though she was furiously struggling with a grin.

He looked down at himself again and his eyes widened in horror. She continued, even as he began inching toward his bed. She knew then that he was going to try and dress while still talking to her, to make it seem as if he had been dressed already.

"I’m in my nightgown, anyway. I’m too keyed up to change. I hope you don’t mind," she added, still trying to keep a straight face. His head had instantly come up at her first sentence, staring hard, as if maybe with enough concentration he could see through the bulkhead. Kinda like I can…

"Chakotay?" she ventured after a moment or two.

He visibly shook himself out of his reverie. "I’m sorry, Kathryn. I got… momentarily distracted by something." I bet. "No, I don’t mind, if you don’t," he said carefully as he finished getting dressed.

She noticed with satisfaction that he had put on a pair of sweatpants and a gray ‘fleet-issue t-shirt. Well, that will be easy enough to remove, she thought, and then, stop that! You have to talk to him first. He hasn’t been privy to your last couple of hours, and he has no idea what’s going on. Don’t just jump him when he walks in the door, or you know there will be a rather unpleasant argument!

"I’m on my way," he said, even as he strode out of his sleeping area.

"Okay, Janeway out." She sighed in satisfaction before her eyes widened in horror and she gasped. He was coming here. To her quarters. Where he’d instantly be able to see the new, very large window that led to his quarters. Undoubtedly, he’d have a few questions about that.

"Q!" she hissed urgently. "The bulkhead! Change it back!"

When nothing happened, she said in a deadly voice, "I’m serious, Q. I know you’re there! Change it, now! I won’t open that door unless you change it back, and all of tonight’s efforts will have been in vain."

The door chimed, but she crossed her arms over her chest and made no move. Finally, she heard a disembodied sigh and the bulkhead changed back to normal with a bright flash of light.

"You’re no fun, Kathy."

She looked quickly around to make sure he wasn’t lounging visibly anywhere in her quarters. She couldn’t do much about an invisible presence, though she hoped he wasn’t going to hang around and watch, but she could at least make sure that Chakotay didn’t see him.

The door chimed again.

"Come in," she called. "Sorry about that, Chakotay. I was… momentarily distracted," she said, echoing his earlier words.

"No problem," he said as he stepped in. His stride faltered at his first glimpse of her, but he recovered himself beautifully. He did a very good job of controlling himself, but he couldn’t hide the flush of his cheeks or the widening of his eyes. His eyes flicked very briefly upwards, and she had a feeling he was thanking the spirits he’d had the foresight to wear loose sweatpants.

It wasn’t as if it was the first time he’d seen her in nightwear, but this gown was a lot silkier and a lot shorter than the pajamas she’d worn on New Earth. And she wasn’t doing anything to cover herself up.

"Um," he said eventually. "Did you want to talk about it?"

"Hmm?"

"Your nightmare," he prompted.

"Oh! Yes," she said decisively. He’d given her an opening. She went to the couch, and he followed, though she noticed he made sure to sit some distance away from her. She gazed at him, unaware that she was doing so until he shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny. She came back to herself and looked away, smiling. "I’m sorry, Chakotay. It’s just… it’s a little… I’ve come to… Let me start with the dream," she said finally, trying to ignore the tiny grin that was flitting around his mouth. Brat! He enjoys seeing me so disorganized!

"It wasn’t a pleasant dream."

"I got that impression when you told me it was a nightmare," he said wryly, but then his grin faded. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t make jokes. I… I heard you. You sounded terrified," he finished softly.

"I was," she said. "Why… why didn’t you call me, Chakotay? Like you used to?"

He stiffened, beginning to look annoyed. "Why, so you could tell me my interest was unnecessary? I thought I’d save you the trouble. I figured you’d call me if you needed me," he said roughly.

"And I did," she said softly, placing her hand over his to calm him. "Need you, and call you. I’m not angry with you for not calling, I just… Anyway. This might not be fun for you to listen to," she warned.

He looked wary, but he nodded. "That’s okay. You obviously need to tell someone, and that’s what I’m here for."

"I don’t just need to tell someone. I need to tell you. I just… thought I’d warn you."

He said nothing, but he nodded again, looking perplexed.

"I dreamed you’d died, Chakotay. I dreamed that I was standing over your casket," she said quickly, fighting the panic inspired by remembering the dream. His eyes widened, but he still said nothing. Wanting to get it over with, she continued, "And I dreamed that you looked angry, even in death. And… there was a woman there, someone I didn’t know, and she put a peace rose in your casket, and then… you looked peaceful. She gave you peace. And then, I started screaming, but everyone ignored me. I was all alone," she said, her voice breaking.

She could see the pain in his face, and his arm twitched as if he longed to hold her but he knew—or thought he knew—that she wouldn’t approve. She hesitantly placed one of her hands in his, and he squeezed it, offering what little comfort she’d let him give. After a moment, she spoke again, and her voice was mostly steady.

"And then, I woke up. And I freaked out, to use one of Tom’s phrases. I think it’s appropriate in this case," she said, trying to smile.

"Oh, Kathryn," he said, very softly, but before he could say more, she placed her other hand over his lips. He was clearly surprised at her touch, but it kept him quiet.

"Shh. Let me finish, and then you can say whatever you want. I promise."

"Anything?" he said, with a wolfish grin to show that he was teasing her. He was trying to get her to smile again, and she loved him even more for that.

"Anything," she promised solemnly, and then she had to smile, at the expression on his face. He looked so confused, and cute. This conversation was clearly not going the way he had expected it to.

"After I woke up and freaked out for a while, I had a visit from my conscience," she said with a wry smile, and she heard delighted laughter in her head. She closed her eyes. So you are here. Q, go away. Please. You were right, as much as I hate to admit it. Please give me this night alone with him. You can check up on us tomorrow, if you’d like. I’m asking you very sweetly. Do me one more favor.

She heard a sigh. Okay, I suppose. Good luck, Kathy. And then he was gone. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but she did.

She opened her eyes again to see Chakotay gazing at her. When he realized he’d been caught, he smiled and looked away quickly, but she’d seen the concern in his eyes. She came to the conclusion that he had a right to be concerned; her actions were rather erratic, and she was lucky he hadn’t called Sickbay yet.

"My conscience and I had an argument—a pretty fierce one. And I came to the conclusion that that nightmare was forcefully telling me something I’ve known but have been refusing to hear. And I made a decision. I’m sure it wasn’t a rational one, but when has that ever stopped me before?" she asked with a crooked grin. He quirked a grin at her in return, flashing his dimples.

"You said it, Kathryn, not me."

She punched his arm lightly. Then she looked into his eyes, struggling not to lose herself in the warm, dark pools. "I decided to stop fighting this. Chakotay, if you’re still willing, I’m open to a relationship now. My excuses just don’t work for me anymore, and I can’t continue to deny what I feel for you. If this is something you no longer want, just tell me please; don’t try to protect me or make it easier. Just tell me, and we’ll pretend I never called you here tonight."

She looked away, not sure she wanted to see what was in his eyes. The room was silent for several very long moments, and eventually she looked back up. His face was almost completely blank—very odd for him—and she couldn’t easily tell which emotion it was that was tugging at his eyes and his lips. Finally he let out a very weak laugh.

"If I’m still willing?" he asked in a completely bewildered tone. "If I’m still willing?" he repeated, and his voice rose at the end, in a slightly manic way. "Something I no longer want?" he said, his voice still rising. He grabbed her hands in his, clutching them like a lifeline. "Gods, Kathryn! There is nothing I’m more willing to do! I will always want this! I will always want you," he finished in a fierce whisper, and he brought her hands to his lips, simply holding them there.

She collapsed against his chest and felt his arms encircle her tightly. "Thank God," she whispered. "I was so afraid it was already too late." She stiffened, realizing that the way she’d phrased that might raise some questions, but he was too wrapped up in his own reactions to notice.

"Never too late, Kathryn. It would never be too late for this," he said vehemently, but she knew better. A quick image of him kissing Seven flitted through her mind, but she banished it. That never happened! And it never will!

She swung one leg over him so that she was facing him and rose up on her knees, bringing her face slightly above his. She pressed a quick kiss to his forehead and felt him shiver in response. He placed his hands on her sides, and she could feel the warmth of his skin through the silk of her nightgown. It was her turn to shiver.

"Kathryn," he managed to murmur as she pressed staccato kisses all over his face. "Are you sure about this? Not that I’m complaining, but it’s a pretty sudden change, and I just want to make sure that you’ve thought this through, because I don’t think I can back away this time if you change your mind."

"I’m sure," she said, reaching out to flick her tongue against his tattoo.

He gasped but forced out, "What… about Starfleet?"

"They’ll deal," she mumbled, with a kiss to each eyelid.

"Tuvok?"

"I’ll tell him," she said with a laugh as she kissed each dimple.

"The crew?"

"They want it." One to the cute off-center bridge of his nose.

"Are… we going… to tell them?"

She pulled away from him slightly and he groaned at the loss of contact. "Boy, you’re sure full of questions."

"Just making sure, Kathryn. I need to be very sure."

"I don’t think we’ll need to tell them anything. We’ll just take things naturally, and let them find out on their own. It will only confirm what they already suspect, anyway. Trust me, Chakotay… I’m ready for this relationship. All of it. Now, where was I?" she asked slyly. She stretched down again to place a kiss on the tip of his nose, but he was faster. He moved his head quickly and captured her lips with his own.

The kiss was forceful, demanding, and she could feel his hands grasping her hips as his tongue plundered her mouth. She threaded her hands in his soft hair, holding him to her. She felt herself growing weaker, and with a moan, she sank down onto his lap, straddling him fully. He made a small sound in the back of his throat at the contact, pressing her more firmly against him as his hips lifted unconsciously from the couch.

With the closer contact, she could feel his desire, hot and hard and pressed solidly against her. It sent a thrill of fire straight through her, nearly making her toes curl. She hummed into his mouth, insinuating a hand between them to softly stroke him through the light pants he was wearing.

He gasped into her mouth at the first touch, and the sound became a moan as the caresses continued. The motions of his lips and tongue grew more frantic against hers as his hands tightened on her and he began helplessly thrusting his hips in sync with her strokes. She chuckled into his mouth at the desperation in his movements, and at that, his eyes flew open.

He tore his lips away from hers and grabbed her hands, pulling them away from his body. He was trembling badly, and even as he held her hands away from him, his fingers stroked her wrists in tiny circles.

"Gods!" he panted. "I’m… sorry, Kathryn. I… didn’t mean… for this to go… so far… so fast!"

"Oh God, why not?" she groaned, throwing her head back and pressing her body against his again. He was stunned for a moment but quickly recovered. Without saying another word, he returned his hands to her hips and began nipping at the neck she had so willingly bared to him.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Kathryn awoke suddenly, stifling a groan. Her whole body felt like she’d played a Parrises Squares tournament in high gravity. She opened her eyes, catching sight of a dark, rumpled head next to her, and she grinned wickedly. Definitely a hell of a lot more fun than Parrises Squares… I don’t even remember making it to the bed…

Chakotay was sprawled on his stomach, half atop her but facing away from her, and he was snoring lightly. She stayed very still, listening to him sleep, ignoring the impulse to reach out and ruffle his hair. He was so still, so peaceful when he slept, and she wanted to savor that.

Eventually, however, her scrutiny must have awakened him. Although she couldn’t see his face, she could almost guess the expressions that must have flitted across it. First he jumped as he came abruptly into consciousness, and then his whole body went tense while he tried to remember where he was and how he’d gotten there, and then his whole body relaxed as he remembered. She could almost see the lazy grin, even through the back of his skull. He lay there for a few moments, remembering, before rolling onto his side to find her watching him.

"Morning," he said hoarsely, treating her to a view of the grin she’d imagined only moments before.

Mmm, I could get used to this for breakfast. "Hey," she replied, her voice just as raspy as his. She studied his face, quickly becoming lost in thought again. Should I tell him? I guess I have to, because Q is just enough of a cocky bastard to come crowing about it, and then I’ll have to tell him anyway, and he’ll be mad that I didn’t tell him sooner.

Chakotay began to frown. He reached out to brush a strand of hair away from her face. "What’s wrong, Kathryn? You look… pensive." His frown deepened when she jumped at his words.

"Nothing’s wrong. I was just deciding… whether to tell you… the truth. The whole truth."

She hated the look of fear and anger that immediately sprang into his eyes, and she cursed herself for it. God, that’s the way to calm him down!

"No, no, no! Relax, Chakotay, it’s nothing bad. Well, nothing too bad," she amended, mentally going over his possible reactions when he found out Q was their matchmaker.

This did nothing to alleviate his worry. He sat up. "Kathryn, you’re not exactly being very reassuring. What’s going on?"

She pushed him down onto his back, curling into his side and making herself comfortable. His easy, relaxed manner had vanished; she could feel the tension in him, coiled tightly like a spring. "Remember how I told you that after I woke up and freaked out, I had a visit from my conscience?"

"Yes…" he said slowly, prompting her to continue.

"Well… my conscience wasn’t exactly Jiminy Cricket."

"What? Who? Kathryn, you’re not making any sense."

She shook her head. "Sorry. Character in an old Earth movie for kids. Tom found it in the database when Naomi was little. She used to watch it all the time—"

"Kathryn!"

She jumped at the stress in his voice. "Sorry. Anyway, my conscience manifested itself… in the form… of Q."

"What?!" He sat up again, spilling her off him.

"Q paid me a visit last night."

"Why?"

"I told you. To argue with me. About you, no less. He knew I was desperately unhappy and he was determined to do something about it. I guess I just needed someone else’s perspective on things. He showed me some things I probably shouldn’t have seen, but when has that ever stopped him before? He argued your case quite admirably, I might add. So really, all of this," she said with a sweeping gesture that accommodated both of them and her totaled bedroom, "is due to him."

Chakotay fell back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling. Kathryn snuggled back up against him, and while he didn’t shove her away, he didn’t hold her to him either.

"So Q is the person that convinced you to stop fighting this," he said finally in a flat, unemotional tone.

She nodded against his chest.

"So, what you’re telling me is that the soul-shaking happiness and joy I feel right now is all due to that whiny, arrogant, smug little—"

She stopped his diatribe with a light kiss, and then said, "Yes," with a nervous laugh, not really sure how he was taking this.

He stared at her blankly for a moment longer, and then his composure cracked and he gave her a huge smile, pulling her to him again. "I guess I can live with that," he said softly. "After all, at the moment, I’m lying here with you in your bed, naked, and we still have a few hours before our shift starts." He said the last few words into her neck, feeling her shiver as he went for one of the sensitive spots he’d discovered with delight the night before.

There was a bright flash of light, and an all-too-familiar smug voice from the chair beside Kathryn’s bed said, "I’m delighted to hear you say that, Chuck—ah, Chakotay!"

With a gasp, Chakotay rolled onto his stomach, covering Kathryn’s nude body with his and in the process giving Q a vista that plenty of the women on Voyager would have beaten down the door for.

"Charming view," he said acerbically, and with a snap of his fingers he brought the blanket that was on the floor up onto the bed to cover them both. "Besides, if I wanted to see Kathy in the buff, I’d just snap myself into her bathtub."

Chakotay gave a menacing growl and tensed up, and Kathryn clutched at his arm, worried about what Q would do to him if he tried anything.

"Down boy! Good watch doggie."

Chakotay’s eyes narrowed even further, and Kathryn leveled her best death glare at his tormentor. "Q!" she hissed.

He held up his hands in surrender. "All right, all right, I’ll stop teasing him. But he makes things so easy!"

"Did he see you in that nightgown?" Chakotay asked tersely.

She rolled her eyes. "He’s Q. Could I have stopped him? Relax, Chakotay," she said, looking levelly at Q. "Q knows if he tries anything with me, he’ll be looking for various parts of his anatomy across the cosmos, omnipotent being or not. And that’s before I tell his mate!"

Q visibly cringed. "Okay. I’ll be good."

"Why are you here this time, Q?"

"I just came to check on things, and to say hello."

"Hello. Now leave," said Chakotay brusquely. He really wasn’t comfortable at all around Q, especially knowing that he felt some sort of an affinity for Kathryn.

"After all I’ve done for you?"

Chakotay sighed. "Oh, you didn’t do this for me, I’m absolutely sure of that. Why did you do it, anyway, Q? What’s in it for you?"

"Nothing!" Q looked affronted. "I came because I like Kathy! She’s much more fun to torment when she’s happy! And I’ve never seen her this happy! I guess I owe that to you, since you seem to make her happy for some strange reason I’ll never understand. She’s a challenge, just like Jean-Luc, so unlike most of you other humans…"

"Thank you, Q, for everything." Kathryn said softly, and Chakotay began to feel bad for his outbursts.

"You’re welcome, Kathy. I’ll go now, but I’ll be back to torment you soon, have no fear. Oh, maybe I’ll bring Junior next time! I’m sure he’d love to see his godmother!"

"I can’t wait," Kathryn said dryly.

Q just smiled wickedly and raised his hand.

"Q, wait…"

Q and Kathryn both looked quizzically at Chakotay when he spoke. "Yes?" Q prompted.

"Thank you. Not for my sake, but for Kathryn’s. Thank you for helping her," Chakotay said sincerely, and Kathryn smiled happily at the love she heard in his voice.

Q stared at Chakotay from narrowed eyes. "Yes, well. You’re welcome. You’d better take care of her, Chakotay, or you’ll answer to me. I’m the only one allowed to torment her." And with that warning, he was literally gone in a flash.

Chakotay hadn’t heard a word of Q’s warning, being more concerned with the language in which it had been issued. "He called me Chakotay!" he said in an amazed voice. "Twice!" he added, thinking over the conversation.

Kathryn chuckled into his chest. "Hmm, yes. I think I managed to convince him not to call you ‘Chuckles’ anymore."

"I’m not sure I want to know how," Chakotay said carefully, taking Kathryn into his arms again. "And at this point, I don’t think I care. I’m much more interested in you… Now, where was I?" he said into her neck, laughing delightedly as she shivered.