The BLTS Archive - Of Time
by Ananke (aeteananke@gmail.com)

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Disclaimer: All characters herein owned by Paramount Studios
and other entities. No copyright infringement intended.

Archive: Yes.

This is the result of a Voyager_Romance New Year's challenge.

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Time is the fire in which we burn.

-Soran, Star Trek: Generations
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Forgiveness is the final form of love.

--Reinhold Neibuhr
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Still on the run.

I suppose that's how I always thought of Chakotay after our
arrival home. He never settled, hadn't before Voyager,
hadn't on Voyager. I saw no reason to assume he would after
Voyager.

I was blind. Captain's gaffe translated into Admiral's
gaffe.

I could've easily disproved my theory before it settled in,
naturally, could've looked him up, asked the right people at
Starfleet where he was and what he was doing. They knew. He
lived in the shadow of his former betrayal, and wasn't about
to be allowed to forget it. Starfleet watched him. It didn't
crimp his style, not from what I've recently learned.

I rediscovered him through a third party, an innocent third
party, at your typical Academy commencement. I had given the
speeches before, one of my least favorite roles as returned
hero, but I gave them. Vowed that one would be my last.

Not so typical. The ceremony brought in a new year, old
Earth standard, the scheduling seemed a romantic touch, to
those Terran enough to recognize the significance.

The third party...not Terran, but of humanity. Her eyes were
shining, moist beacons as she took in the fireworks. She
stood among the cadets, wearing her new Ensign's bars
gracefully. Her height caught me at first, a good couple of
inches above your average young woman. The features drove
the stake in next. Straight, dark hair piled neatly,
offsetting pale skin. Her eyes were blue, Nordic blue, and
her lips were his, softened. Her smile his, brightened.

The nagging familiarity might've been brushed off, I was
quite good at it, had it not been for my sighting of Tom
Paris. B'Elanna Torres. The Doctor. Tuvok. Harry. Hell, the
whole damned crew, watching her as if she were some sort of
descending queen as she shook my hand and strode off the
stage hours later. To my eternal credit, I didn't blink,
continued the ceremony, turned out a fine group of unscarred
Ensigns for the Fleet.

I caught Tuvok backstage, touched his arm. "Don't try to
pass her off as your collective holiday orphan."

He merely nodded. "You did not note her name, Admiral?"

Well, no, I hadn't. I'd been busy biting my tongue.

He sighed, barely, and took me aside. "Ensign Ysalane
Hansen. Born and raised in the former demilitarized zones, a
colony world. Chakotay serves as civilian liaison to
Starfleet there, and Lieutenant Commander Annika Hansen as
colony commander. The colony in itself draws little
attention. I would not expect you to know of it."

Nothing nicer than a double-edged remark from a Vulcan. Mind
your fleet, Admiral, and forget your friends. Something to
that effect. I ignored him. "Are Chakotay and Seven
present?"

"I believe Chakotay is." His gaze settled on me, all Vulcan
warning. "Commander Hansen could not be spared from duty."

"Tuvok, go serve the punch." It was as tart a retort I could
manage, and one I already knew wouldn't faze him. "I simply
want to give my congratulations, and catch up. You
apparently came for the same reason."

"Ysalane is my goddaughter." I swear, he got sharper as he
got older. "Not to attend would be impolite. Illogical. I am
an acquaintance from her childhood."

And I wasn't.

I left him then, with a shoulder pat, before I got myself
into more trouble with Vulcan verbal sparring than it was
worth. Ysalane had faded into a corner, adjusting her
uniform neck for the new rank bar, and...none other than the
devil himself was helping. He was older, grayer, and it
seemed a heartbreakingly paternal moment. I almost walked
away. Almost. His upward glance caught me, stunned, wary,
embarrassed. Giving the collar one last tug, the Ensign
straightened, following his glance and snapping to attention
so quickly she had to use him for balance. "Admiral." Her
tones were low, soft, husky, not unlike either of her
parents.

"Ensign Hansen." Did I emphasize the name? Perhaps. He
straightened as well, meeting my gaze with the same
formality as a current Starfleet officer would've. "I wanted
to offer my personal congratulations. Your parents were both
valued members of my crew at one time."

Damn. That hadn't sounded right, and I knew it. Chakotay had
shaken off the discomfort, brow climbing. Ysalane merely
nodded, formally, eyes dancing to take in both of us.
"They've spoken well of you, Admiral Janeway."

"Sala." Chakotay's timbre broke the platitudes. "Paris
wanted me to direct you his way."

"I'll go now. Excuse me, ma'am." She nodded quick
recognition of the dismissal, walking back into the crowd.

I turned back to Chakotay, meeting his gaze. "Fine young
offering to the sacrificial cause."

He nodded, eyes sparkling. "I tried to convince her not to
do it. You know these kids today..."

Enough. "You should have told me, Chakotay. I could have
been there. No recruit from the colonies has an easy way of
it..."

"She got by on her own merits." His eyes flickered with
disappointment. "No petting by an Admiral. She had all the
support net she needed...friends, family. We raised her not
to do anything less."

"I'm sure you did." Taunt. When had I become so
vituperative, I didn't want to be. I tried for levity. "The
fireworks are starting up again."

He caught my gaze, brows furrowing. "Indeed."

We walked then, slipping away from the crowds, past Tuvok's
probing gaze, beyond Torres headshake. "You daughter seems
to have it all in front of her, Chakotay. But then, how
could I expect anything else? She had all the Starfleet
support she needed. Her mother, colony commander."

"Kathryn, don't."

And I didn't. I couldn't stop myself from the sarcasm,
heaven knows, but he certainly still had the power. "Tell
your wife I'm proud of her. I mean that, no buts attached."

"I believe you. So will she." He stopped us then, taking my
elbow and guiding me to a solitary bench, hidden among the
trees. Not wholly unlike the New Zealand penitentiary
grounds that long ago day, familiar enough to draw a smile.
"Getting her to accept a commission was a feat of itself,
but once she agreed, she found it satisfying. With the
colony, Seven has just enough command and freedom to suit
her nature."

"No attempt at a starship?"

"No starship for either of us, Kathryn." He shook his head.
"We had our share. Dirt and dust and a solid planet under
our heels. All we wanted."

"I admire that ease with nature and settling." And I did.
Even after Voyager had arrived home, there had been no
golden rest stop for me...just constant moving, constant
change, immersion in the rat race. Our core differences,
right there, I suppose. His very roots had led him back to
the life he had once abandoned, Seven's experiences with the
colder facets of technology and progress, likewise. My
childhood, growing up, entire existence had groomed me to be
the constant stargoer, the eternal officer. And I was. Not a
bitter realization, no, just a resigned one. We could never
have made it together. Not without destroying the best of
each other. "But why give up the commission? Why not go for
a planetary co-op?"

His glance was wry. "I'm not Starfleet, Kathryn. Never
really was, though I did a fine job of thinking so as a
youth. Being a civilian has given me a great many thing
retaining Starfleet never would have...the freedom to attend
my daughter's commissioning, for instance. When I left the
colony, Seven was knee deep in problems and frustrated as
hell, but she couldn't be spared. It's her responsibility.
Ysalane happens to be mine when Starfleet says Seven isn't
available."

Touche. The silence immediately chilled, but he broke in
awkwardly. "Come visit sometime. Sala's first leave will be
in a few months. She'd like to get to know you. You
influenced her."

"Perhaps." Ensign Hansen seemed too bright, too glowing, to
have formed herself in my likeness. I had never looked or
felt that self-confident. Go have coffee with eyes of past
and might have been absorbing my disintegration? No, I
hadn't been very good at visitations of late, the rest of
them were proof of that. My former crew was quite the
family. Without the captain holding them together. So it
should remain.

"I see." His gaze said very well that he knew I wouldn't
come, wouldn't contact. Sadness, there, and regret, mirrored
in my own emotions. Distantly, a klaxon blared, startling us
apart. His smile dipped. "Welcome to the twenty-fifth
century, Kathryn." He stood, grandly offering a hand,
pulling me up, saluting. "Admiral."

"Chakotay." It was a hollow dismissal for a hollow
leave-taking, but at least the tension, the nagging
question, regret was gone. We had seen the shape of what we
had become. Quite enough. The past-best left there, where
the colder facets of life need never intrude upon warmer
memory.

The fireworks faded.

I don't know if he looked back after taking the approaching
Ysalane's elbow and walking away.

To my eternal amazement, I did not.

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The End