"I did what I could...now...let God judge!"

[Gabriel Fauré 1845 - 1924]

May 19, 2371 - San Francisco

Alynna Nechayev was a cheerless woman who rarely smiled, exuding mostly an air of aloofness. She was as tough as nails, a trait adopted very early in her career when she became one of Starfleet's youngest female admirals. There were other senior members of the Admiralty who, by virtue of their positions in Starfleet Command, had to present a tough exterior and no-nonsense approach. Owen Paris was one such man, Kathryn knew. While being absolutely severe in the conduct of his work, his severe, aloof manner, a requirement of his work, struck fear into the most junior of Academy cadets. Yet Owen Paris was a most amiable gentleman once one got to know him better, possessing a subtle, dry humour which it was rumoured, he’d had to cultivate the moment he set eyes on the beautiful Doctor Elizabeth Illingsworth. Beneath his mask of inapproachability and rigid discipline was a man who was a loving father and a caring husband who doted on his wife. Just with Alynna Nechayev, however, even the normally terse Owen Paris had his hands full maintaining his equilibrium in the face of Nechayev's natural tendency to belligerence and verbal aggression when she addressed him.

No matter how often Kathryn tried to approach the dour and insensitive woman with an affability that she hoped could sway the admiral, Nechayev remained a most unpleasant person. For years, rumours about a botched love affair had floated about the Academy and Headquarters, but those rumours were never given any substance, the Admiral being as close-mouthed about her private life as anyone else. Still, whatever happened in Nechayev's past must have had a defining impact on her personality. Kathryn was willing to concede that certain events of a traumatic nature, and most particularly one which involved a romance that skidded off the rocks into a turbulent ocean, could lead a woman to imagine, nay, assert that no one else deserved to be happy if she couldn't. How else could Kathryn describe Nechayev if she weren't willing to admit that a person could be born with a cheerless, dour personality? Nechayev was an attractive woman who must have been beautiful once, Kathryn thought. Yet her manner, her constant charge of Duty and Command, her indefatigable crusade against everyone who dared to be happy, and those who ventured to oppose her, marred what had been once a beautiful face. It was constantly drawn, with a perpetual droop to her mouth and a frown that Phoebe would have called 'desperation frowns, not good for eternalising on canvas'.

The summons to Nechayev's office had come when Kathryn had been busy with Hannah's morning ministrations. Hannah had been fractious the previous day and most of the night and Kathryn had been not a little impatient herself when the baby refused to take her bottle, her plaintive crying straining every inch of Kathryn's patience. There was nothing wrong with Hannah - no colic, her teething pains had been dealt with and the suspected ear ache was nothing more than an itch. Even after her bath which she normally enjoyed, there had been the restless flailing of arms and legs. Kathryn had walked up and down the lounge, sat in the rocking chair and rocked her until Hannah drifted into a slumber, only to wake minutes later and start crying again. Kathryn had been close to tears, but she kept rocking, kept talking in soft tones while walking through the apartment. Then the hail from Headquarters came just when Kathryn had finally gotten Hannah calmed down.

Kathryn had tried her best to respond with an evenness that belied her harried look at such an early hour. Without worrying what Nechayev wanted to see her about, she had replied with a friendly tone that she'd be there within the stipulated time. She had left a restless Hannah at the baby care centre close to Headquarters, with a cheerful Laila Demonze receiving the crying baby, promising Kathryn that Hannah would be fine when she returned. Kathryn had wanted to choke and bless Laila at the same time. The girl was far too cheery this early in the morning and yet, she exuded a calming influence over Hannah. Kathryn had given a worried sigh, kissed Hannah's forehead briefly, then hurried to Nechayev's office.

Now, Alynna Nechayev looked at her with a determined twist to her mouth. Kathryn gave a sigh. She wanted to get her baby, go home and catch her breath before the more stressful rigours of caring for a lively infant once more consumed all her energy. She loved Hannah with an intensity that never ceased to surprise her. After Chakotay, she'd never thought that she could love another being more or as much as she did Hannah. Yet, there she was, besotted over the child not just because of Hannah's startling resemblance to her father which made the longing for Chakotay a daily essay in self-control, but simply because Hannah was her daughter, joined to her heart like nothing else.

However, Nechayev wanted answers, just as she’d wanted them when she summoned Kathryn from time to time since Chakotay's defection to the Maquis. For now Hannah had to wait...

"Commander Chakotay will be found, Captain. Another consignment of medical supplies has been hijacked by the Maquis."

"You have called me here, Admiral, to tell me that? I am very well aware of the consequences for my husband should he be caught - "

"When he'll be caught, Captain Janeway. It's only a question of time..."

Kathryn wondered idly what Nechayev had against Chakotay other than his defection to the Maquis. She shook her head.

"Admiral, I assure you, I have no intelligence whatsoever of my husband's movements or his whereabouts."

"His vessel is on its way to Alkorea."

"Alkorea?"

Kathryn was stunned for a moment.

"Yes, it's in the heart of the Badlands."

"Did the Cardassians furnish you with this information?"

A nerve twitched in Nechayev's jaw. Kathryn didn't want to gloat when she asked her question. The woman would consort with the enemy if they had a common...enemy. Chakotay was wanted by the Federation. Chakotay was wanted by the Cardassians. While he might have been instrumental in the Federation's destruction of the armaments factories on Dezod III, both groups wanted him dead. Kathryn expelled a soft sigh. For Nechayev and Hays, bringing the Maquis to book was a matter of principle. It enhanced their standing; they would be the heroes of the Federation and no matter how noble their fight was, the Maquis were going to pay for making Nechayev and Hays look like they hadn't done their job properly.

"Well, it was a message that was intercepted from the Maquis vessel Liberty to the Vetar under Gul Evek's command."

Another sigh followed. Kathryn knew what was coming. She had been harassed about it before and today, this morning, she had little inclination to field Nechayev's tirade or insistent questioning on Chakotay's whereabouts or her own knowledge of what he was up to.

"Then I am afraid I can tell you nothing more, Admiral, since you appear to have the information yourself.

"We believe he may have contacted you, Captain Janeway."

Chakotay never, ever contacted her for fear of just such a reprisal as Nechayev promised. It was his way of protecting her and Hannah. She really didn't know where he was; she was aware they wanted him neutralised. As long as Chakotay headed one of the major Maquis cells, the Maquis posed a threat to the Federation since they took his lead. This she had heard via Tom Paris. Granted, they adopted guerrilla warfare and undermined many Federation institutions, but at heart, she believed, the Maquis had noble objectives. The Federation was short-sighted in not harnessing the power of the Maquis to rout the Cardassians once and for all. As long as Nechayev and Hays headed the War Effort, Kathryn doubted it was going to happen. She met the direct gaze of Nechayev.

"And I tell you I know nothing."

"It would be in his interest if he gave himself up."

Kathryn wanted to laugh at Nechayev's gall. To what end? So Chakotay could rot in a Federation jail until admirals like Hays and Nechayev imagined he no longer posed a threat to them? She shook her head. Chakotay was the master of evasive maneuvers. He could hide in a cloud and no one would know; he'd steal Klingon cloaking technology and move amongst them without anyone ever knowing.

Chakotay would never give himself up. Not unless the lives of his crew were at risk.

"He'll not do that, Admiral."

"So you've spoken with him?"

"No, but I know my husband, Admiral."

"Then if you know him so well, I'll assure you now, Captain Janeway, you will never see your husband as a free man again."

Kathryn had no time to be shocked. What was Nechayev getting at?

"Admiral, let me tell you something. Although Chakotay and I are married, I certainly don't dictate his mores for him, nor will he tell me what principles I should build my life on. He made a decision he knew would leave me without a husband and our daughter without a father. He believes in what he is fighting for - "

"Several Starfleet officers were killed by Maquis." Nechayev's voice rose stridently in the quiet office. Kathryn knew of that.

"Chakotay would not harm anyone Starfleet. I am sure of that, Admiral."

"You approve of what your husband us doing?"

"He is my husband, Admiral. Whatever he does, I believe he is convinced of his cause."

"Then you sympathise with the Maquis."

Kathryn leaned forward, suddenly tense and angry. Still, she had to keep calm in the wake of Nechayev's deliberate taunting.

"Admiral, the official communiqué from your office about Dorvan V read only that an attack by Cardassian vessels had been launched. I know how you have covered up the reality of the atrocities that occurred there. My husband - " Kathryn drew in a deep breath. She couldn't stop. Nechayev riled her. "My husband lost his parents, his brothers and sister, nephews and nieces. The entire population of Dorvan V was wiped out. Did he tell you they violated all the women on Dorvan V without regard for age or standing?" Kathryn watched as Nechayev's eyes widened, though she couldn't say whether the woman was shocked. Nothing apparently made a dent in her conscience. Yet... "And effectively, Admiral, I lost an entire family. I even lost my husband..." Kathryn's voice had gone soft, her voice trailing. "Yes, I lost Chakotay. He was by my side when I was in labour; he held my hand and Admiral, I didn't know then, when I myself needed comfort, how to comfort a husband who had just lost every member of his family. If you ask me if I sympathise, I would have to say yes."

Kathryn sat back in her chair. Sighing, she slowly rose to her feet. Nechayev rose too, her fists on the smooth surface of her desk. She look menacingly at Kathryn.

"Understand, Captain Janeway, that you are not to undertake any off-world travel while you're still on leave."

Kathryn gave a deep sigh, pursed her lips before she spoke again.

"I understand perfectly, Admiral. Perfectly."

When Kathryn left Nechayev's office, she was deeply pensive. She had known she was being monitored, but not to the extent that was made clear from her conversation with Nechayev. A disquiet settled in her. She couldn't go anywhere off-world lest they think she might engage in a tryst with her own husband. The day Chakotay left, she had known that if she sought to contact him, she would place his life in jeopardy and the lives of whatever crew he had working with him. She had no idea what the composition of his crew complement was, except that Tom Paris had worked on the Liberty. Tom Paris had been grilled to within an inch of his sanity for information on the Maquis, the Liberty and Chakotay. They had given up eventually when Owen Paris intervened and told them his son was already in jail, what more did they want? All they could gather from Tom was that the Maquis cells gathered on planets in or on the other side of, the Badlands. No Federation vessel had ever ventured one light-year into the plasma turbulences of the Badlands and neither had any Cardassian vessel. The Maquis were safe there.

She missed Chakotay so much that most nights she woke up in a fever of longing. In the beginning, soon after she read his letter, she had been nearly demented for a while until Hannah claimed her sole attention. Hannah... Their daughter became her lifesaver as she cried her way into Kathryn's heart. The first month she was home with Hannah, she devoted all her time and energy to caring for her baby; in the dark, quiet nights, Kathryn allowed herself the luxury of crying.

Chakotay was gone. Half her life was put on hold. In desperation and out of a need to have him part of their lives even in his absence, she started showing Hannah pictures and holo-vids of her father, so that many times when she played the images, Chakotay didn't seem too far away. Hannah slowly became used to seeing pictures and videos of him; at the same time she prepared any number of pictures and holo-vids of Hannah and her so that one day, when Chakotay returned to them, he could see Hannah growing up.

Sometimes, when she was desperate, she spoke to Chakotay, indulging in conversation in which she imagined he was sitting on the other side of the imager and listening intently to her. Then she'd tell him of daily happenings, how Hannah was growing like a little weed, and how much she was beginning to resemble Winonah. She'd tell him sometimes how lonely she was without him, and how their baby needed her Daddy. Those were the days she was most hopeful that he'd return to them and take his place to complete their family circle.

The thought of a family circle as she made her way to fetch Hannah at the baby care centre, made her think of Kenneth Dalby again. He had gone to Deep Space Nine at great risk to his life to deliver encrypted messages and a box to Sergei.

Sedeka had infiltrated the Maquis as a Bajoran named Seska. The thought left her cold as she realised that the woman had been far more devious than anyone, even Chakotay, realised.

All the evidence was there, down to the Cardassian DNA match. Once before, Chakotay promised her that Sedeka would no longer trouble them. Now, the woman was dead, killed by Chakotay himself. Kathryn shuddered at the thought. Chakotay had an aggression that, given the provocation, would lead him to kill. She was certain Chakotay had had to defend himself against Sedeka.

Kathryn turned away from that thought. It was Dalby's message to her personally, that occupied her mind as she held her squirming baby and opened her front door. She replayed his message again in her mind...

"Dear Captain Janeway. My name is Kenneth Dalby and I am Chakotay's second-in-command. He doesn't know of this message but some time I will tell him that I managed to get something through to you. His niece Winonah is still missing and although your husband is making every effort to trace her, we're hitting a wall. Chakotay is simply snowed under with work, and finding Winonah is becoming more and more difficult. I know he may never contact you as all communication between him and you is monitored, even encrypted subspace communication. So, I've taken it upon myself to give you all the information and possibilities Ayala and I have compiled in the search for your niece. There are about a hundred probable places, and I've listed all the co-ordinates for you. If you could start a search, I would be grateful and I am certain Chakotay would rest, assured that there is help from other quarters in trying to find Winonah and so complete your family circle. Her disappearance weighs heavily on his mind, Captain..."

There had been a pause as Dalby composed the rest of his message, then smiled at her.

"Your husband is a very private man, Captain; B'Elanna Torres and I are perhaps the only ones on the Liberty who knows how he misses his family..."

She had tears in her eyes when Dalby said that; by the time she closed the message, Hannah was demanding her attention and she had been forced to review all the co-ordinates later, to be transferred to the Crimond.

Hannah squealed the moment she was placed in her play pen in the lounge. It was a warm day outside and when she opened the blinds, maximum natural light to flooded into the room.

"Seems to me you're feeling better, sweetie," Kathryn said as Hannah lay on her belly and proceed to chew away at her fist. Another squeal as Hannah looked up at her in reply. Kathryn smiled indulgently. "That pretty much sums it up, right? Now, please...pretty please, sweetie, could you be still for another fifteen minutes or so? Mommy hasn't had breakfast..."

Kathryn left Hannah in the lounge, hurried to her bedroom where she divested herself of her uniform and quickly donned a comfortable gilet over her long-sleeved blouse and a pair of slacks. She took a quick peek at Hannah on her way to the kitchen, sighed with relief and replicated her cup of strong coffee. Back in the lounge she relaxed in Chakotay's big comfy chair and sipped her coffee with relish. Giving another little sigh, she thought of her mission the next week.

"Admiral, I've already left my baby home for a full month. It's not as if there aren't facilities on board the Crimond - "

"We're in a state of war, Captain Janeway," Admiral Lewis said evenly, his tone more than his words suggesting the danger of taking her baby with her on her mission. "And, we've never considered it good practice for kin to live on board the same vessel..."

"There have been precedents, Admiral," she stated in defense of her position. She wanted Hannah with her for the two months on the Crimond. She’d missed her daughter the last time she had been away, and Hannah had sprouted two teeth in that time. She didn't want to miss her daughter's milestones. Who knew if, in two months when Hannah would be almost eight months old, she might be able to say 'Daddy'. It was wishful thinking, Kathryn knew, but it didn't hurt her to hope. But Admiral Lewis wasn't finished with her.

"We were not at war with the Cardassians then, Captain."

"Admiral, with respect, the Crimond is a family vessel, its purpose is to resettle families on other homeworlds. My ship is not currently engaged," she replied quickly. She knew Lewis's next salvo.

"There are currently four hundred vessels engaged, all of them warships, Captain. The situation is worsening, you must know that. It is not unlikely that the Crimond will be called for duty to defend the Federation - "

She had given a sigh.

"Admiral, I give you my word that when the time comes, I'll make the necessary arrangements for my daughter. But she's still small, and needs me in all my off duty hours..."

Admiral Lewis's shoulders sagged and he lost the tension in them. He wasn't giving up, but Kathryn knew that he had some empathy for her situation. There were a number of female Captains and senior officers in Starfleet, all of them on active duty, and one or two of them had their children accompany them on their missions. Starfleet was still a way off relenting with sensibility on the issue of officers's children on board. The Crimond was fitted with a nursery for those settlers who had small children and it would make sense to have her own baby there, with her. Hannah would be safe, she knew. It was Starfleet that needed to become more open-minded. They were, up to a point, but right now, she needed to fight her own small cause.

Admiral Lewis sighed, laced his fingers where his hands rested on top of his desk and looked at her with keen eyes.

"In the light of your husband not being with presently with you, Captain, I'll say you may go ahead." The slow smile that followed his words was all Kathryn needed. She wanted to hug Admiral Lewis. Bless him and bless Chakotay...

Chakotay.

Kathryn rose suddenly from the deep chair and walked back to the kitchen to rinse her empty cup. A little surprised that she’d finished her coffee, but with no inclination to eat, she walked back to the lounge where Hannah had just started wailing again.

"So much for a short, fifteen minute reprieve," she moaned as she lifted Hannah from her playpen and rocked the crying child gently, stroking the soft, black hair that was so like Chakotay's. "Shhh..." she crooned, walking to the nursery to sit in the rocking chair, hoping the motion of the chair would lull Hannah to sleep.

Minutes later Kathryn was no closer to getting Hannah quiet. Close to tears herself, she rose from the rocking chair and walked to the alcove where she opened her vid-com. A few codes were entered and seconds later, Chakotay's face appeared on the screen. Kathryn smiled through her tears and kissed the top of Hannah's head. She pointed to the screen.

"There, Hannah...it's Daddy."

Hello, Hannah...

I made this recording for you on the day you were born. You were very, very tiny, but your little hands were frantically waving at your Mommy and me...

Hannah's tears stopped; she became still, her small hands reaching for the screen as if to touch Chakotay's face. Kathryn wiped at her own cheeks, the dampness refusing to leave as Hannah suddenly squealed with delight.

I don't know if I will ever see you again, my little sweetheart, but I want you to know that you are a part of me that will never leave; so much a part that I will dream of you every day. I know it's hard to grow up without a Daddy, but sweetheart, whenever you're feeling a little blue, just talk to me, will you? I'll always be here...

Kathryn gave a relieved sigh as Hannah listened, her small, rosy mouth open and dribbling.

I pinned a little brooch on your bib the day you were born. It bears your name, which was given to you long, long before you were born. We named you for Daddy's own mommy. She was a small woman, but no one could tell her where to get off. I thought when I saw you for the first time, that you were going to be like your grandma Hannah and Mommy. Grandma Hannah was a very feisty woman who took no nonsense from others...and so is your Mommy...

Kathryn smiled again sadly. She played this message from time to time for Hannah, and the baby stilled whenever she saw her father's face these days. Kathryn wondered idly why she hadn't thought of it the day before when Hannah had been completely unmanageable. She stroked her daughter's hair, kissed the top of her head again as Hannah listened intently.

Now, sweetie, your Mommy tends to forget some important days.

Kathryn winced. The first year she met Chakotay, he had learned only a few days later, when she belatedly remembered to tell him that it was her birthday. They hadn't known one another well, but even then Kathryn knew she would never love another man.

When it's Mommy's birthday, you must remind her, will you? You see, sometimes, Mommies don't want anyone to know it's their birthday, or how old they are...especially how old they are. It's a woman thing, they say. But you will remind her. You're going to be every inch as smart as Mommy, so I know I can depend on you, okay?

Hannah made a few sounds in reply to Chakotay's instruction. He had been sitting in the lounge when he made the recording after leaving the hospital that day and was already dressed in what she presumed would be his Maquis gear. He looked rugged, yet his face still held a lurking tenderness Kathryn knew was there. His eyes as he looked at Hannah were soft and caring.

"There, Hannah. Daddy has spoken and maybe your crying all of yesterday and today was my reminder it's my birthday tomorrow..."

At the sound of her mother’s voice, Hannah turned to look up at her. When she smiled showing her tiny teeth, Kathryn wanted to cry all over again. Was that really why Hannah had been so restless all morning and yesterday? Kathryn wondered. It was amazing. She was constantly confronted with unexpected, inexplicable aspects of raising her baby. Hannah sensed her mother's nearness; she was accustomed to her mother's smell. Always, when Kathryn took her child from either Phoebe, or her mother or Grandpa Adam or even Dalene, the first thing Hannah always did was bury her face in her mother's bosom, breathing in and out, smelling her scent. Could Hannah sense events and her father's presence? Kathryn shook her head. These days, when they showed her pictures of Chakotay, Hannah would go all quiet as she looked at him. It was uncanny; it exploded a few myths she had about babies in general and her own child in particular. It was her birthday tomorrow, but so many things had occupied her lately that she had pushed it to the back of her mind. It was to be just another day, except that she'd share it with her little girl, and she'd have the opportunity, for the first time, to look at the gift Chakotay had left for her so long ago. She’d kept his wonderfully, neatly written letters and, filed in a safe place, the letter he left for Hannah. That note had a thrilling ring to it: "To be opened on your sixteenth birthday". Still, only now, with Hannah so quiet for the first time in two days, could she ponder on Chakotay's gift for her. As soon as Hannah was finished with her lunchtime feed and sleeping peacefully, she could get a well-earned rest herself. She had not prepared anything for her birthday; she missed Chakotay too much and she knew she couldn't celebrate while he was somewhere on the run, his life in danger.

She held the baby to look at the screen again for Chakotay's last words.

My dearest Hannah, I want you to know that I love you with all my heart. I want you to know that one day I will come back, and our little circle will be complete again. Kiss Mommy for me, will you?

As if Hannah understood his words, the baby squirmed in Kathryn's arms and pressed her face against her mother's bosom. Kathryn's tears dropped hotly on her baby as she looked at Chakotay's face a last time before switching off the vid-com.

"I love you, Chakotay..." came her desperate whisper as she rose from the chair and prepared to settle a much calmer Hannah for the afternoon.

****

It was late evening. Kathryn had been harried again by a too wide awake baby who wanted to play instead of sleep. So Kathryn entertained Hannah who refused to sleep, but at least, she didn't cry as she had in the last two days. The morning Kathryn had been on the point of running over to Medical and have Tom's mother check the baby was when she hit on the idea of showing Hannah her Daddy's picture and his last holo-vid he made for her.

Now, it was she herself who couldn't sit still anywhere. She moved around, paced the lounge, walked to her bedroom and looked longingly at the bottom drawer - Chakotay's drawer - then turned away and out of the room again, only to walk back in and stare again. Once, she opened the drawer and looked at the gift that had been lying there since they moved into his home, an eternity ago it seemed. Once, just before Hannah was born and when so many things had gone wrong between her and Chakotay, Kathryn had opened the drawer and touched the oblong box. It had a letter attached to it, which she opened and which duly warned her that dire bad fortune would befall her if she opened her gift. She wondered then how Chakotay could have known she would try to do it.

"He should have known I'm incurably curious," she muttered to herself as she slumped into his chair and expelled a sigh.

Kathryn imagined she heard Chakotay reply: "Darling, it's because I know you so well. But it will be to your credit this time if you could exercise some restraint..."

Sometimes, he was like Adam Ponsonby - a merciless tease in the driest manner possible.

Where Chakotay was concerned, she had no problem not exercising restraint. She dreamed some nights they were making love, dreamed he was lying next to her; when she woke up, there was an empty space beside her, cold and empty. Her hand would be stretched out to his side as she reached for him even in her sleep. There were nights she woke up and hardly realised that she had been crying until she touched her cheek and felt the dampness there. It was difficult without him, but she managed her life as best as she could. Still, her baby needed a Daddy who was present, who would dote on her as she just knew Chakotay would.

The thought had often come to her that it must have been the most incredibly difficult decision to make when he decided to leave wife and child and pursue a life with the Maquis. He loved her; on the day she gave birth to Hannah there was nothing in the entire universe that blessed her more in those moments than when Chakotay had made an all out effort to be by her side, even with a vindictive Phoebe ready to phaser him out of existence because she believed Chakotay had ruined her life. Nothing could have been more precious, and never had he shown his love more than he did then, than when he stood by her bedside, hesitant, afraid that she would reject him. She had seen the hunger in his eyes, seen how his eyes fixed on her swollen belly. She knew then that she had been given a reprieve, a generous and merciful reprieve to make restitution. By accepting him back into her life unconditionally, by waiving all the pain inflicted by him, she had given him back his life and made him whole again. Then, she had taken his pain and made it hers.

His decision to leave was made because he was finally assured of her love, finally convinced of their unbreakable bond. When the war was over, he would come back to them and they would be a family again.

But right now? She missed him fiercely. Hannah did remind her of an auspicious day in her life, after all. Now, she waited out the last hour before she would officially be thirty eight years old, when she could rush to her bedroom, pull out the drawer with child-like excitement and tear the ribbon off the oblong box. Hannah was mercifully asleep after Kathryn had sung her "Hannah klein, ging allein..." over and over until the child's eyes drooped and she slipped into a peaceful slumber. Before the lullaby, Kathryn had been reading stories, but none seemed to impress on her daughter that it was really time to sleep and give her mother a few well-earned hours of rest. For a moment Kathryn wondered how her own mother handled Hannah, but then, with Adam Ponsonby by her side, they could take turns with pyjama drill. Now she was on her own, caring for a fractious child who, unconsciously it seemed to her, pined for her father. For the short period they were here in San Francisco, Kathryn had decided to leave Ceara behind in Indiana. The dog might have been a diversion for Hannah. Kathryn sighed. Who knows, soon Ceara could be a permanent fixture here in their home, if only Chakotay...

If only Chakotay...Chakotay...Chakotay...

She must have dozed off because she jerked awake, a little disoriented as she stared around her. What day was it? What was the time? Where was she? She felt warm and snug in the easy chair, stretching languidly when she felt finally awake. Hurrying to the nursery she made sure that Hannah was still sleeping peacefully, gently caressing her baby's hair. She grinned. Since Hannah's birth she had used the baby transponder to great effect as she worried through the night whether her baby was breathing. She padded to her bedroom and glanced quickly at the chronometer. It was a few minutes after twelve.

She sucked in her breath and her heart thundered wildly against her ribcage.

"Finally," she whispered, "I can look at my gift...finally."

Her instinctive urge to tear into the chest of drawers and grab with ill-concealed zeal at the gift left her as she reached hesitantly for the long, silver box, balancing it carefully in her hands before rising to her feet again. She walked to the lounge, her feet carrying her inexorably to Chakotay's chair again. Pulling her feet up, she drew her robe round her, making herself comfortable in the depths of the easy chair. Her face felt warm and she knew she was flushed from the excitement. "I remember when I was little, Chakotay, the heady feeling when I could open my Christmas gift that had lain under the tree for days..." she murmured. "I remember the expectant look on my Daddy's face the one birthday he was home, waiting to see how I would react..."

I miss you so...

Like Chakotay promised, even on her birthday, he was with her in the spirit. She couldn't help but smile as she opened the box carefully...looked, blinked, then gasped.

She was still for a few heart stopping seconds.

Of all the gifts she had imagined - her favourite perfume, a pendant, a bracelet, an anthology of poems, a favourite novel, something unique and feminine, perhaps - she had not imagined what she was looking at. Almost reverently she lifted the ancient fob watch from its velvet bedding, the chain dangling over the back of her hand as she studied its detail. It was in Sterling silver, an analogue watch that even as she checked, showed the time correctly: nine minutes past twelve. It had a third hand that busily ticked away the seconds. Her heart beat in her throat, the third hand ticking like a metronome in close rhythm with her heartbeat. She felt faint for a moment, aware that she must have paled considerably. The watch fell from her limp hand and rested in her lap. How had tears dripped down and soaked into the soft cloth on which the watch lay? How, through her tears, did she still manage to see a small white object peering from underneath it in one corner? How?

With trembling fingers she pulled it out; somehow she had known it would be the familiar parchment Chakotay always used when he wrote on paper. Hardly noticing that the box also slid from her hand, she opened the letter.

A sob.

My dearest Kathryn,

If you are reading this letter, then I am not by your side and I am so very deeply sorry that I cannot be there with you and for you. My hope and all my dreams since I met you have always been to be the warrior who will remain by your side forever, to love you and protect you. I am not with you and it pains me to the core that you are again celebrating your birthday without me there to add to your blessings.

This gift I give to you as a timeless element in our bond. It belonged to a nineteenth century Captain of a British Royal Navy vessel. It may not be nearly enough to see you through your lonely hours, but Kathryn, I want you to remember that I am always thinking of you. You came into my life when I had given up hope of ever relinquishing my heart as I did. I was searching aimlessly and when I found you, I reached the end of my journey. I found you and knew that with you in my life, I would be whole.

Isn't life strange? This is the third year of our blessed relationship and the third time I will have missed your birthday, though I swear by the spirits, I will never forget. Bear this gift as a token of the eternal flame of my love for you.

Chakotay.

On an impulse, Kathryn picked up the watch from her lap and turned it over to look at an inscription engraved on the back:

For Kathryn - eternal flame.

Kathryn's soft sobs filled the quiet spaces in the room. Chakotay had not forgotten her. A gift that had lain in his drawer since they met, had been for her. He had chosen the time that would be the best time to present her with a gift that more than anything in the world, symbolised for them the timelessness of their union. Picking up the box and letter Kathryn rose from the chair and walked slowly to the bedroom where she lay down on Chakotay's side of the bed. His pillow she imagined, still smelled of him, and she imagined his pillow still smelled of him, and for heart wrenching moments, she pretended he was there with her. Kathryn buried her face in the pillow and allowed her tears to burn searing trails down her cheek, to soak into the sheet. In her hand she held his watch with the chain linked through her fingers.

Long she cried until her tears were no more and when only her dry sobs could be heard, the night settled again to peace and quiet. Kathryn's fingers became limp and slowly her hand opened and the watch lay, face up, in her hand. In the swirling mists of sleep, for a last time, Kathryn heard Chakotay's voice, drifting to her on eagles' wings.

My love, my life...

**************************

A soft glissando, fleetingly bathed in the blue spray of the transporter beam, and he stood in his bedroom. Chakotay stared down at Kathryn as she lay bathed in the light of the moon that seemed to hover just above her window. She lay on her side, on his side of the bed, he realised with pain, and in her open hand the watch lay gleaming in the semi-dark. Yet, she lay still, as still as he always remembered her.

Her cheeks were tear-stained, and even as he looked, there appeared to be a glistening of tears still on her face. A nerve in his jaw twitched. Somewhere inside him, a raw sob wanted to burst towards the surface and proclaim his presence to her.

He heard something and realised the apparatus on her bedside was recording Hannah's breathing. Only, he heard not so much breathing as a soft cry. Turning on his heel, he slowly, quietly walked out of the room to the nursery.

He had not seen his wife and child in almost six months. In the nursery the light was at half illumination. Drawn instantly to the crib he had built himself, Chakotay couldn't keep his eyes off the small infant occupying it. He walked round it, looked into it and stood still for an eternity.

An angel lay on her side, her face turned to the door of the nursery. Hannah's cheeks were rosy and flushed with sleep. She looked warm and snug, with a thumb engagingly clasped between red-red lips. He wanted to touch her, bend down and reach to her. A giant invisible hand held him back and he retreated. He could only look and look and look. Hannah was breathing evenly in the blessed, unhurried manner of infants who knew no care in the universe. The sleep of the completely innocent marked the way his daughter slept - total abandonment in the profound, instinctive knowledge that upon waking, a soft voice and gentle hands would be there, ready to tend to a whim, hold, comfort and rock, and endlessly reassuring.

He had last seen her the day she was born, freshly come into the world, proclaiming with a plaintive cry her presence and dominance in the lives of two people who would love her until the day they died. He had placed his hand over Kathryn's as she held her slippery, bloodied, unwashed infant, crinkly and pink and crying, and fell in love with a child who held his heart hostage, just like her mother did. As he had seen from her photographs he had known her black hair and pinkish-alabaster skin and blue-grey eyes and the dimple that formed in her cheek as she sucked, would be a unique result of the partnership of Chakotay and Kathryn.

They were moments hallowed as he gazed at his daughter; an impossibly awe-inspiring moment in which he touched the very heart of the Grey Eagle. Tied to him in an invisible bond for all time, was the tiny baby, as sweetly innocent in sleep as she would be utterly captivating in her waking moments. Could Hannah know how she captured her father's heart? He watched her breathing, so blessed, so peacefully that it seemed sacrilege to touch her and intrude on dreams of flowers and angels and clouds and all things beautiful. Undisturbed, untouched by the world's turmoil she lay and breathed, her thumb now excused from the pleasure of warm, soft, rosy lips.

His hands gripped the white rail of the crib and for several moments, Chakotay closed his eyes and drifted to a realm where freedom reigned and the sky was blue and clouds were benevolent cushions he could rest his weary head against. He saw Hannah at three years, running towards him calling "Daddy! Daddy!" as he opened his arms to catch her; Hannah at five years, her long hair flowing behind her as she sat on a swing, commanding "Higher, Daddy!"

Daddy, are clouds animals?

Only when you imagine them to be, honey.

Daddy, will I be a scientist one day, like Mommy?

Whatever you dream of wanting to be, honey.

Daddy, do fairies really exist?

Have you seen one?

No, Daddy, but someday I will!

Daddy, how did you and Mommy meet?

Daddy, you kiss Mommy all the time!

Daddy, is the Phoenix at the Smithsonian?

Daddy...Daddy...Daddy...

Eyes closed, Chakotay felt tears burning down weary cheeks.

*************************

Waking suddenly, yet not frightened, aware that Hannah's breathing had quickened, Kathryn rose from the bed and pulled her robe over her. It was quiet, but she sensed that there was a presence. Had something - a waft of air perhaps? - just touched her moments before? Did that presence touch her as surely as if she had been awake and felt it? There were no warnings, no predetermined clue that she had to get up and walk slowly to the nursery, yet she rose from her bed as if the touching had sparked a fluid movement from sleep to waking with no pause in breathing or thinking about sounds or disturbances or the odd feeling that an intruder meant harm.

What was the sensation of apprehension mixed with anticipation that suddenly took hold of her? Why was she not afraid? It was as if the very ambience of her home breathed warm assurance that no peril awaited in the next room. Instead, her body tingled and for a brief moment she shivered and pulled the robe tighter around her waist, the only sensation a sense that someone was in Hannah's room. The door to the nursery always stood open; the shaft of light that bathed the floor just outside it, welcomed Kathryn as she came to a halt just inside the doorway.

Chakotay stood there, a tired, weary man whose eyes were closed and whose tears ran unchecked down weathered cheeks.

She took in the hands that clamped convulsively on the rail of the crib, the lips that seemed to move as if in prayer, a nerve that never stopped twitching. Chakotay was somewhere, dwelling in a realm where only he and Hannah existed. Kathryn did not resent the exclusion, for she knew that her moment would come too. For now he belonged to Hannah and Hannah alone. Once, when Hannah had been a month old, she’d told her a story, a legend Chakotay had made up and told her in one of their contemplative moments together.

"Is there really a legend, Chakotay?"

Of course, Kathryn. How else could a warrior vow to stay by your side forever?

She started telling Hannah about the legend as the child looked at her with clear eyes and listened.

Kathryn reveled in watching father and daughter, although it hurt her to witness his struggle, the burning tears. He looked so rugged, so unlike what she had always imagined him. Months ago, he had been in uniform, with four pips pinned to his collar. Her eyes welled with tears. He stood there, his frame commanding as she had never seen, dressed in his Maquis attire. Absently she noted the phaser, the d'k tagh, the site-to-site transporter attached to his waist band. The jacket fitted snugly, accentuating his muscular frame. The tattoo that she had touched so reverently the day she gave birth, gleamed in the golden light.

His face, drawn and tired, was marked by pain yet it exuded something sublime, as if heaven touched him and ecstasy transcended him to those portals, dissolving all past hurt, all longing, all hunger for a home he thought he could never share with her.

If you ask me if I sympathise, Admiral Nechayev, then I have to tell you 'yes'.

Only when Hannah began to shift restlessly, did Chakotay open his eyes and gaze hungrily at the baby. Hungrily and for a few heart-wrenching seconds, not knowing what to do when Hannah's plaintive wail filled the room.  

Chakotay did not see her, even when she walked to the crib and lifted Hannah out gently. Kathryn held the baby to him, and his eyes filled with wonder as Hannah looked up at him, her tears suddenly gone.

"Here, Chakotay..." Kathryn said softly.

Hannah stopped crying the moment he took the baby from her and held her protectively against him. He rocked her gently, closing his eyes again as he gloried in the feel of his daughter safely in his arms. He opened his eyes and gazed into Hannah's eyes. She was wide awake and the next moment, her face broke into a bright smile, dimples forming in both cheeks as her tiny hands came up to touch his face.

"Oh, Hannah..."

Kathryn stood a little away from him, allowing him the very private moment in which he gathered the baby to him and sobbed. When he stopped, he held the baby and caressed her cheeks, stroked the downy hair already grown into Hannah's neck. Then he dropped a feather light kiss on her forehead and Hannah squealed happily.

Only then did Chakotay smile.

His eyes shone as he looked from Hannah to Kathryn, then gazed at Hannah again.

"She's beautiful, Kathryn," he whispered hoarsely.

"She has been waiting for you, Chakotay. Her whole life..."

Chakotay smiled again, the lines of stress suddenly gone. He looked less tired, though the hunger never left his eyes. Hannah's eyes started drooping again and Chakotay stared with wonder at how she fell asleep again, hardly a murmur escaping her as he placed her very gently back in her crib and pulled the blanket over her. She lay on her back this time, her face towards him and again, Chakotay smiled as her fist settled against her mouth and she started a sucking motion. His hand reached instinctively for Kathryn, a little shock going through him at the warmth and the old familiarity of touching her.

"She won't wake up again?" he asked, suddenly sounding a little out of breath. Kathryn smiled tenderly, gave his hand a squeeze.

"She'll sleep through..."

There was a long pause, one in which Chakotay gazed into her eyes with so much hunger that her own heartbeat quickened at the thought of his lips touching hers in a second. She hadn't given it any thought, not consciously, that he was home, or why he was here and for how long. None of those questions appeared serious in the first rush of emotion at seeing him. What was it she felt?

His presence was a gift from the very heavens that made her wake from her dream and meander with it into the realm of reality, all in a continuous motion where illusion and reality merged and Chakotay's presence was an extension of her dream. He was here; as she wakened to actual reality, it gradually dawned on her that Chakotay's presence was a miracle. It was her birthday and her silent, wordless prayers and supplication and dreams and desires that he be with her, burgeoned into a fullness where she could see him and touch him and know he was real.

Her hand reached for him, to touch his tattoo with such reverence, that her own eyes closed and the single tear that rolled down her cheek went no further as she felt herself drawn into his embrace and the tear soaked into his jacket. A hand cupped her head and she pressed her face into his chest, and inhaling deeply. A touch of lips on her hair and she lost herself in the feel of his strong, strong arms around her, holding her so close, close, close...

She heard a sob.

When at last he held her away from him, a smile hovered on his lips.

"Happy birthday, Kathryn..."

She could only look at him and experience the wonder of being with him in their home. A lump in her throat, words that choked and went no further than unexpressed thoughts. His movements were unhurried as he touched her cheek, his fingers trailing hotly down her neck, hovering butterfly-soft on her collar-bone and slowly moving over her breast.

A flash, a sob again and a deep, deep sigh rose from her very depths as she felt herself lifted in her husband's arms. Did they float? Did Chakotay's feet leave the floor and move without volition yet unerringly in the direction of their bedroom? Did she hear his breathing - low, yet urgent and feel his lips against her forehead so that she couldn't say for certain if he was touching her or where? Were their bodies in a state of burning? It couldn't be, the thought sprang like a stray wisp of down that drifted aimlessly to the floor, or rose as the air lifted it to swirl about in ethereal abandon. Were they drifting on a cloud - on the thousand clouds that in her dreams told her of passion long denied? Did she feel his breath against her skin and wonder that it was the very breath of God that descended on them and blessed their union and gave them assurance that all was well with them and that when sacrifices were made, they were never made in vain?

What were Chakotay's arms around her body but that they represented his very presence, the gentle, welcome cocoon of warmth where she could lay her own weary head and let him take care of her? What were his wide, wide shoulders and broad, hard chest but an anchor in their sea of clouds where once they were tossed around at will by forces not of their own making? What was the anchor but that it once again told her that her Warrior had never, ever left her?

Kathryn felt the soft creak of the bed as Chakotay lay her gently down on it. The haze that enveloped her assimilated all feeling, yet intensified each one, giving each sensation a new, exciting and charged quality that was beyond description. This night, this day, this moment belonged to her; the softness of the light and the welcome of the dark joined and mellowed into a quiet fusion of illumination in which Kathryn allowed her body to be the devout and exclusive property of the hands which ministered to it. Did she hear the sounds coming from the gates of heaven to accompany their journey, a pilgrimage to places once so dear and memorable, to sojourn there again and give blessing once again for a destination reached?

"Touch me..." came his soft command. She complied, divesting him of clothing in the still dazed cocoon she found herself, where time stood still and bowed in reverence before them, enclosing them so that when finally, their skins tingled in the light waft of air that hovered in the room, this place became a bed of clouds that gave them warmth and stillness.

Once, he held the sides of her head and looked deeply into her fevered eyes. She saw in his the same fever, the same hunger and when his mouth touched hers again, she had no idea that his fingers wiped away at the tears that kept flowing.

In the stillness, their sounds rent the air in painful gasps, soft moans and little cries as lips sought hungrily for waiting breasts and aureoles. He slid his body along hers, met her gaze once, her hands gripping his shoulders as he moved wordlessly down again - excruciating, slow movement in which his burning mouth journeyed over plains never forgotten but long denied, resting on peaks that jutted eagerly, caught, nipped, bitten, then to be left when his mouth found another little oasis and rested there. Another soft cry as Chakotay's tongue sought her navel, her fingers that had long moved from his shoulders gripping ineffectually at his hair that already felt damp. Her body heaved in anticipation of his final destination, where the pilgrim would end his journey and start all over again. Deep, soft gasping as he buried his face against her smooth belly, and near the end of its delta overflowed the juices, sweet nectar that her quivering body begged he should sup on as another cry left her.

She felt his mouth grazing the damp curls, and exploded in a thousand stars when at last, lips and tongue joined in a concert of touching, licking, sucking and nipping at her core where every fold and pore, her very nub quivered with the rest of her as she gave herself up and lost herself in a release of sensations that swayed...swayed, then rocked into a swirling vortex that increased in deep gasps and quick, small cries - faster and faster and faster until the moment when she felt she could no longer contain herself, burst in helpless, glorious abandon from her lips the anguished, pained and pleasured cries as her body danced in rhythm to his flicking and searing mouth and tongue, arched wildly closer to him, not wishing to lose contact and at the very height of it, crashed in thunderous waves crashed.

She went up, up, up...until she touched the clouds that welcomed the pained pleasure as her body rocked and all control was lost somewhere, timeless, mindless...

Chakotay's mouth rested on her as he waited for her.

Where had she traveled to? she wondered. She could only see white clouds, heaven's gates she touched as music filled the air and joined with her cries as she drifted down, this time, not aimlessly, but held by Chakotay as he guided her to awareness again.

His body slid up hers again, now wet and sleek from perspiration. She felt his arousal and when she desired to touch him there, he allowed her a brief sojourn only.

"It aches, sweet Kathryn...you must know..."

"I know, my Warrior..." she replied as she shifted under him, lifted her hips, her eyes never leaving his, she welcomed him with parted lips. A slow journey as his tip hovered, nudged, then burned into her warm sheath, tight, yet slowly adjusting and swelling as she drew him into her. There was a searing heat as he buried himself in her sheath - thick and wet with her own juices, her sleek passage moist enough that she felt no pain from long privation. Chakotay gave the deepest groan yet as he shuddered against her, her own hands caressing damp skin, jerkily thrusting fingers into his hair, digging into flesh as he began his slow thrusts, every thrust accompanied by a deep, satisfying moan as their eyes remained connected. Once she drew his face to her and kissed him while he pushed into her, her juices spilling liberally around him. Her tongue licked at him, salt expressions of exertion and desire, salt expressions of tears that always kept falling as she gave him her body, took his to her and together, in synchronised movement, rocked and shuddered and quivered and pleasured as sometimes Chakotay pulled away from her almost to his tip, then ground his body hard into her again. Long, slow thrusts alternating with short, frenzied pushing until their bodies became one movement again, journeying up once more where soon they were lost in the maelstrom they created, faster and faster as their little cries, or grunts and mingling of soft breaths filled the quiet air in the room.

No longer could Kathryn contain herself when her body spiraled out of control and she was lost somewhere where heaven touched her again.

Did she cry Chakotay's name then?

Was it his desperate cries she heard as they crashed into timeless nothingness again?

What were those sounds she heard? Did they emanate from the heavens and sift to bathe them in angel's chords and euphonic song?

Their breathing, first heavy in deep gasps, gradually became lighter, and more even as she felt Chakotay once again hold her as they drifted down from the clouds.

*

He’d hungered for her for more than a year. Yet, when they came together, Kathryn's skin, translucent alabaster, gleamed in the moonlight that streamed into the room and once again, like so many times before, its beauty enthralled him. Kathryn lay under him, bearing his weight as he collapsed in spasms, hardly able to breathe normally. Her lips were parted, very, very rosy and soft and well-kissed as she kept her gaze on him. He dipped his mouth into her neck and remained there for heavy seconds as he smelled her hair again - rich apples mingled, oddly, with brandy.

He was still hard in her, as aroused as he had been when he lifted her in his arms in the nursery and carried her to their room. When he wanted to move away, to dislodge himself from her, her body twitched in frantic objection, and a tiny sound emanated from her. He sensed, as he always did when his body reclaimed instantly all its old territories and explored them as if they were new to him, that she wanted to him to stay in her.

She kept him alive as he lay over her, her hips moving in a soft ensemble of gasps, twists, arches, fingers that kneaded his back rhythmically, heaving breasts that even as he tried to look away, drew his eyes inexorably to them, unable to keep his mouth from covering them, to release briefly and press fevered lips against her forehead; eyes that closed and revealed the well of tears that since they'd joined, never left them. His shaft burned, quivered, listened for the slightest change in the tenor of her movement and small cries, and slowly, Chakotay began to thrust into Kathryn again, languid thrusting that served as a benediction after the sanctity of their union, again scaling chords that could not help but reach for the heavens again in a rousing, gloriously ethereal crescendo of sound and movement.

Kathryn sighed deeply as they came down; her hair was damp, her eyes soft and tender, her lips always rosy and her cheeks, streaked with tears, always flushed. He lay, his open mouth against her moist skin. For moments undefined, he remained like that over her. When he moved finally, it was to raise his face to hers again, to kiss her hair, her brows, her forehead, her cheeks and finally, her lips. All the while her hands traveled over his back, the touch heavenly, springing into coursing ecstasy again and again.

So began his journey over her body as he touched with searing lips every pore, every line, every plane and dip and rise, every waiting peak; her skin was clammy, flushed from their lovemaking, and he reveled in licking away the wetness. When he reached her delta again, he remained there the longest to inhale and register her smells - their smells - and record them for eternity. They invaded his senses, drove out of his mind and heart all other sensations to establish Kathryn Janeway as an indelible part of him, an extension of his own heart and mind, an equal giver and taker of everything they desired to share. All over her body he inhaled her, breathing in deeply and allowing the sensations of feminine musk and magic of the night into his being as whorls of perpetual desire coursed in the knowledge that Kathryn belonged to him.

And Kathryn let him explore her body. She held nothing back and offered generously all of her. Sometime during the night, he knew, she would do the same to him and he would lie under her while she, like a cat, feral and sensual, crawled softly over him and tasted him.

When at last he felt sated, he lay next to her; unwilling to lose the connection of skin against skin, he still held her in his embrace while he caressed her hair and reveled in the way she touched his brow, trailing her fingers along the lines of his tattoo. Then her fingers rested against his lips; the action to kiss came instinctively. She lay in his arms, her hand resting trustingly against his broad chest while he placed his own hand over hers, his lips moving in wordless thanks.

Later, Chakotay looked at her again when he felt her breathing soft and even against his skin. She lay sleeping, and he smiled, for he knew that her sleep would be brief.

*

They woke later, and again, Chakotay felt how Kathryn initiated their lovemaking. They gasped, shuddered, moved languidly, kissing, licking at tears that rolled again. When it was over, Chakotay held her in his arms.

"I love you, Kathryn," he broke the silence for the first time.

"I can't imagine a day without you..." she replied.

Then the silence descended again.

"How long, Chakotay?" she asked finally the question that hadn't entered her mind when she saw him standing in the nursery.

"A few hours," he replied without hesitation. She had to know. Yet, it was as if she sensed it anyway.

"Then it is good, my love."

**

In the early hours, Hannah cried and Chakotay, wrapped in Kathryn's arms, his legs entwined with hers, extricated himself gently from his wife and pulled on a robe that hung behind the door. He smiled tenderly. Kathryn, he realised quickly during the night, had restored everything in their home as it had been before she left him, an eternity ago it seemed. His robe always hung there. On the Liberty, he was mostly in sweat pants or old boxers when he slept. Here, he was again imbued with the lifestyle so reminiscent of what they'd once shared.

He looked back once to see Kathryn snuggling into the covers, slowly wakening. He smiled again as he entered the nursery and lifted Hannah out. On the compactum that Sergei and Svetlana gave them, he lay Hannah and prepared for her nappy change. He frowned as she looked at him with wide eyes in which just seconds before there had been tears.

"Don't worry, Hannah. Daddy will look after you..." he promised. Hannah squeaked gleefully as he tried to open her sleeper and pull it down. "Now what," he murmured as he stared down at her, not knowing what to do next.

"Now you clean her, Chakotay..." he heard Kathryn's voice.

He looked sheepishly at her.

"I guess I need some assistance here," he said.

Together they worked on the baby, Kathryn teaching him how to change Hannah's diaper, smiling through his own clumsiness of too large hands handling a too small and squirming body. When Hannah was changed and freshly powdered, Kathryn held the baby up to him. He held Hannah close to him while Kathryn prepared a feed, for it seemed to him Hannah wanted her milk, she was sucking so industriously at her thumb, or when she knocked her little head against his chest, he felt her lips busily looking for something.

"Come," Kathryn said as she beckoned to him and they returned to the bedroom where they settled themselves under the covers again with the baby. Kathryn made him shift in such a way that he could hold Hannah and give her the bottle. The baby reached greedily for it and Chakotay laughed at the way Hannah sucked.

"She's beautiful, Kathryn," he repeated his words of earlier.

"She looks like you."

"She'll be a scientist like her Mommy."

"Oh, no. She'll fly to the stars. Don't you worry. She reaches mostly for the eagles on her mobile..."

"Really?"

"Really."

When Hannah was finished, Kathryn let him wind the baby and he grinned when Hannah expelled little burps. Then, because she appeared so wide awake and expected to be played with, Daddy complied, blowing bubbles against her cheeks, lifting her up so that she squealed with delight. Kathryn watched indulgently as he played with Hannah, pausing briefly to kiss her hair or her cheeks. Often he would reach over to kiss Kathryn too and his heart burst with pride as mother and daughter both smiled. Sometimes, his smile became a sad twist as he remembered Winonah and Kathryn, sensing his mood, would say: "We'll find her, Chakotay." The complete certainty with which she spoke, made him sigh with relief again before Hannah would claim his attention. Only then, as Hannah's dimpled smile bewitched him all over again, did he remember something. He placed the baby carefully back in her mother's arms before rising from the bed, shuffling his discarded clothing out of the way to pick up a parcel that must have lain there all the time. When he settled next to Kathryn again, he took off the wrapping and showed Hannah her new toy.

"Oh, it's a targ," Kathryn exclaimed. Hannah didn't look too interested, but just pulled the targ to her and started chewing away at its ears.

"It's B'Elanna who suggested it," Chakotay said proudly.

"B'Elanna?"

"Yes, B'Elanna Torres, my engineer. She's half-Klingon, half human. She - she knows about us, Kathryn. Not many on my ship know of the life I had."

"B'Elanna must be good..." Kathryn said reflectively.

"One day, I hope you'll meet her and you'll wish she were in Starfleet as your Chief Engineer. That is how good she is, Kathryn. I - I found her while Cardassians - " Chakotay paused suddenly, his eyes closing at the memory.

"Your pain is mine too, remember?" Kathryn reminded him.

"They raped her..." Chakotay sighed softly. "She's recovering, Kathryn. I - I killed all of them."

He didn’t want to talk about it, and Kathryn sensed it. He had precious little time with them, and no bad memories could intrude. Kathryn nodded and squeezed his arm. Hannah had nodded off again and was snuggling sleepily against him.

"It's still early, Chakotay. She'll sleep again till morning..."

**

While Hannah slept, they made love again, unable to satisfy their hunger and slake their thirst. They were hungry, greedy to taste and feel and smell and look deeply into one another's eyes as they reached their climax, in breathless wonder that time stood still for them and respectfully allowed them to continue their feasting.

Later, they sat down to a light meal, which she prepared, and he told her he’d never tasted better pancakes than these. They fed each other, laughed, joyously shining in their patent happiness of sharing. He raised an eyebrow when she selected tea instead of coffee and then explained how she'd had to go off coffee during her pregnancy and how she toned down her intake after Hannah was born. She had given him a wry grin, and his heart turned over at the familiar expression. He reached to smooth her hair away from her face as she looked down on her empty plate. He had always tried to tell her she drank too much coffee. He shook his head and remarked that it seemed he'd gotten his way at last.

In the lounge he sat down in his easy chair and she made herself comfortable on his lap, her arms round his neck; while they talked, he kissed her from time to time and she planted feather light caresses all over him, especially his tattoo and his lips and his cheeks. He held her close to him, and even as he felt Kathryn becoming sleepy again, she remained wide eyed, listening to his voice, the soft tone calming and peaceful, with none of the turmoil that ravaged the world present in their little cocoon.

He told her of Seska, how she infiltrated his vessel and how he killed her. She told him of Nechayev, how she tried to infiltrate the private life of Kathryn and Chakotay and how she wished that she could kill Nechayev. He said how sorry he was that she had to go through that trauma alone and she told him how she drew her strength from him, her courage from her Warrior who'd taught her to be brave. She could face her enemy and be unafraid, she told him. He told her of his crew, of Kenneth Dalby who was his first mate and good friend. He told her how Ken's wife had died and Kathryn sighed in deep sympathy for their cause. They'd saved many, many others from the fate his mother and sister and the women of Dorvan V had suffered. He told her how every woman and refugee they could help, stilled the demons one by one in them, and gave them some reward for their cause. She told him that Hannah would accompany her on her next mission and he was surprised.

"I guess you fought for that one, didn't you?"

"Admiral Lewis finally relented. He said it was mainly because my husband wasn't with me..."

His eyes had become clouded, but she kissed away his concern quickly. He sighed.

"It's war, Kathryn."

"Admiral Lewis said that too, Chakotay. The Crimond is not engaged yet. I'll be very careful. You know that, honey."

"Hmmm..." came his muffled reply as he buried his face in her bosom.

"The Crimond will be my last mission."

"And then, Kathryn?"

"I suppose, a new vessel. It's shrouded in secrecy. No one knows."

"Except the Admirals."

"Yes, Chakotay."

"I love you, Kathryn..."

She told him that Tom Paris had reconciled with his father and Chakotay smiled at that, saying that he knew Kathryn would have been instrumental somewhere in that reconciliation. He knew that there had been no joy in keeping his distance from his father and that his own arrogant and selfish youthful had been spent like that. He thanked Kathryn again for being so insistent and encouraging him to meet his own father again.

"And Tom didn't send them away?" Chakotay asked.

"No. I think the day I - "

Chakotay had seen Kathryn's deep and momentary distress, but she pressed on.

"The day I left for Dorvan V to tell you of Hannah, I relayed him a message from his mother. He must have remembered my words to him. His parents love him very much, you know."

"I know, my Kathryn..."

"So I told Tom about my husband who had a father called Kolopak, and how Kolopak loved Chakotay without condition and took him into his heart saying that Chakotay had never been gone from it. I told Tom that, Chakotay..."

There was a long pause.

"Paris was a very angry young man. He sold us his services, my Kathryn," Chakotay chided gently, "but I guess, in retrospect, that it was just part of the package of anger and bitterness at not being understood and not understanding his parents' affection for him..."

"His father, especially, Chakotay. You know Owen Paris. It's difficult to penetrate his reserve. Tom suffered, I think. But yes, he did make the effort to understand why his father was so hard on him."

"Then I am glad, Kathryn, that they are reconciled. Now, with our own baby busy growing up, I know how important it is..."

Kathryn had given a deep sigh, nuzzled her face in his thick terry robe and hugged him convulsively.

"I love your gift, Chakotay. I haven't said 'thank you' yet," Kathryn said, suddenly looking up at him.

"I've always had it. I knew the day I gave it to someone, it would be to a person I love more than life itself."

Kathryn was quiet again. They were aware of the time now as the early morning broke in grey and dark blue through the window of the lounge. Only their breathing, as if in preparation for the inevitable, broke into the silence. Chakotay gathered Kathryn up in his arms and carried her to their bedroom where silently, in pained reverence, he worshipped her body again, and she his.

When his name broke haltingly from her, he gave an exultant cry when he too, spilled into her as she became one with him. This time, there were no tears, just a dry-eyed peaceful acceptance.

"I love you, Chakotay..."

***

He had taken Hannah from her crib and placed her in Kathryn's arms. Both were sleeping peacefully in the big bed. Kathryn's hand spontaneously caressed her baby's head, her lips touching the small forehead even as her eyes were closed. She was exhausted, and Hannah was still too sleepy to disturb her mother's rest. Kathryn had shifted naturally to a position where Hannah was lying against her, safe from being squashed against her mother's body. Chakotay smiled. Even in her sleep, Kathryn was careful with her baby, and attuned to her needs.

Chakotay had showered and dressed. His hand went to his d'k tagh, the phaser, the site-to-site transporter where his fingers hesitated a fraction before he removed it from his waistband. Bending over his sleeping wife and child, he kissed first Kathryn lightly against her temple, then planted a soft kiss on Hannah's head. His hand touched the white, beribboned folded paper that peeped narrowly from under the pillow.

He stepped back and watched them sleep. Long, long moments he stood there, arms at his sides. The watch he had presented to Kathryn lay on his pillow, the hands resting at one minute past seven.

With a sigh, Chakotay raised the site-to-site transporter and entered the co-ordinates.

A second later, he departed in the soft glissando of the transporter beam.

***

Of all the chapters I have written for 'Strangers when we meet', the writing of this chapter has moved me the most. My 'thank you' to Sheila for pointing me to Fauré. My inspiration during the writing of this chapter came from Fauré's "Requiem" which I played throughout the writing of the second phase of this chapter.