Had I World Enough, and Time
by Melissa
--a "Year of Hell" part 2 vignette
Author's Note: This story was written in response to the following suggestion on JetC12: "What if at the end of YoH (before reset button was hit) Chakotay beamed over to Voyager, refusing to let Kathryn stay on Voyager by herself and they have one final moment together." Of course, after a little while, I totally deviate from canon. That's what fanfic's all about, folks.
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Her time on Voyager had been exceptional, she thought. Days-months-years. Moments strung together like pearls on a chain: each one interesting and distinctive on its own, but when combined with others capable of creating something precious and beautiful. She had found a home, a family, out in an expanse of space no one from their world had ever seen. She had vowed to do whatever necessary to protect that home and that family, and she had spent the last year doing just that. And now, there was just one thing left to do.
Saying goodbye to Tuvok, to B'Elanna, to Harry and Seven and Neelix and the Doctor-that had been the hardest thing she had ever done. There was one thing-one thing more that would have been harder-but she would not have the opportunity to do it. For that she was both grateful, and sad. Sad. It was the greatest understatement she had ever lived, yet if she indulged in the thought, she would lose control of it. Fiercely she battled it down yet again, stepping down to the battered command level. She was still the Captain. She knew her duty, knew what her last mission must be. She was prepared to carry it out.
Gently, she fingered the watch that hung from her waist. She had brushed it clean that morning, and it shone dully in the dim light of the bridge. He was with her. He always would be now. Her eyes drifted over to her left, to the chair he had sat in so often. Ghostly images drifted into her mind; of his smile, lighting up the days when she thought if she saw just one more nebula she would collapse of boredom; of his eyes, twinkling at her across the command panel when Paris and Harry exchanged quips across the floor; of his strength, solid behind her as she confronted enemy after enemy on the viewscreen. His voice, arguing with her, urging her to sleep, to rest, to relax, telling her she was wrong, telling her she was right. Telling her the story of an angry warrior. Begging her not to die.
She let her gaze roam over the bridge, past the stations where her crew had stood their ground on so many occasions. A loyal group. The most loyal, steadfast, varied bunch of people she had ever had the extreme joy of working with. She had been lucky in this life, more lucky than she had ever hoped for. She would go down with grace and dignity, knowing that the purpose that had driven her life had been defended to the end. And it would content her. It must.
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He would be proud of her, she thought. She had forged an alliance and it was holding. It was a good decision and, unlike the others they had tried to make, looked like it had a chance of working. A slim chance, but at this point, even a slim chance was better than nothing.
She had been alone a long time now. She had been used to spending long periods of time alone as Captain, but this was different. Very different. The ship was quiet. Most systems were non-functional. Much of the actual ship itself was gone. The crew was gone. The laughter was gone. She didn't know the last time she had left the bridge--she'd taken to sleeping in what was left of her ready room. If she confined herself to one area, the emptiness of the ship didn't seem so overwhelming. She comforted herself with the thought that it would soon be over.
She strode restlessly around the command level. She was hungry but she couldn't eat; exhausted yet her body would not rest. She was waiting for the signal from Paris that would allow the final stages to begin. She knew it would come any moment now. No final words for Tuvok or B'Elanna; they had said everything they needed to. The silence was respectful, soothing in that way only. No time for emotion. Not in this timeline. Perhaps in the one to come.
She had become so accustomed to the silence that the sudden whine of a transporter beam threw her into near-panic. She whirled around, whipping her phaser out of her belt, and reflexively calling for the lights that were no longer fully functional.
Her whole being froze. Shock. For a moment, she ceased to breathe.
Chakotay.
She opened her mouth to speak, and found her voice was frozen as well. She stood there dumbly, her mind not registering how it was that he was here. Or if he really was here. She was working on nearly three days without sleep, she was probably faint from lack of nutrition.
And then he was moving, closer to her, and the warmth of his arms around her began to make her realize that he was there. *He was there.* She didn't know how. He was holding her tight enough to cut off her breathing, and somehow it wasn't tight enough. Her hands clenched in his shirt, her face was pushed hard against his shoulder, her legs were intertwined with his , his face was buried in her hair.
"Kathryn. Gods."
The tears threatened, and she fought them down, clinging to her First Officer on the bridge of their ruined home. This was the goodbye she thought never to have. This was the one she feared the most, and missed the most. He was alive. Tom had told her he was...but he was alive. Here, and alive.
One thought of the unfairness of it all would be enough to send her over the brink.
Long, trembling breaths later, they finally pulled back a few inches, enough to look at each other. He was clean. He looked well-fed and rested. They had treated him well. The relief struck her at the same time the knowledge of what she must look like did. Self-consciously she raised a hand to her face, to her hair. She stepped back, just a little, but he reached out and stroked the scar on her cheek gently.
"What happened?" he asked softly, the look in his eyes one from days past, one she had always pretended not to see.
She smiled involuntarily. "You don't want to know, Chakotay. Trust me." He smiled too, but his face quickly sobered. "How are you here?" she asked, her voice rasping on the last word.
"I asked Tuvok to beam me over as soon as we were taken off the Krenim ship."
She opened her mouth to speak as a transmission came over the comm system.
Tom was safe.
It was time.
She looked at Chakotay, and he nodded slightly. Together, they turned and walked to the command chairs. And when they were seated, he reached out and took her hand tightly.
"Why did you come back?" she asked as together they fought to control the dying ship.
"I wanted to make sure you found the watch," he said, his tone light. But when she looked up, the expression on his face was enough to wobble her control another notch.
She opened her mouth to speak, and then shut it again.
"I couldn't stay on that ship knowing you were over here," he continued. "No matter what your orders were."
Her lip shook despite her best efforts. "I could throw you in the brig."
"The brig's been gone for months," he said, his voice smiling, his face bringing her closer to tears every second. If she looked at him, she'd never look away again. "Kathryn--"
She held up a trembling hand for a second before slapping it back down to the weapons controls. "Had I world enough, and time, Chakotay..."
"I know."
His voice shook dangerously, and she finally looked over at him. His eyes, her eyes, said everything that had been denied. He nodded once, sharply, and reached out for her hand again. She punched one last control, and gripped his fingers fiercely.
"Time's up."
FINIS
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