As far as Chakotay was concerned, having two Kathryn Janeways on board threatened to overload his senses. The time-traveling Admiral Janeway had been thoroughly probed and scanned by the Doctor to establish that she was who she claimed, but Chakotay had known it the instant they were in the same room. No one but Kathryn ever made him feel quite that way, as if the air itself were alive around them.

That feeling had become so much a part of his routine that he had stopped noticing, until just a couple of weeks earlier, when Kathryn had been taken hostage and the Doctor impersonated her. After avoiding him for several hours, the Doctor finally had to meet with him alone. He had known immediately that something was wrong but it took a few seconds to realize what it was. Then it hit him – everything was flat. His Kathryn receptors were absolutely still. He had forgotten about that unique reaction until he missed it.

But when Admiral Janeway had come on board, he had felt it at once. When the Admiral and the Captain were in the same room together, the sensation intensified. It was ironic, he thought, that just as he was willing to let go of his hopes for a relationship with Kathryn a series of unlikely events should remind him so vividly of why he had held those hopes for so long.

Then Kathryn asked him at dinner with Admiral Janeway. "I know it sounds odd," she confided, "but I'm not completely comfortable with her. It's like being with my mother, only she knows all my secrets."

He was about to decline, thinking that dealing with two Janeways was beyond the capability of any mere mortal when her words struck a chord. For the first time, he realized that the Admiral possessed all of Kathryn's foibles and all of Kathryn's memories.

All of them, and more. He wondered briefly how much she actually knew. His relationship with Seven was still very new and they had agreed to keep it to themselves for the time being. Somehow they had managed to keep the secret, and he was certain Kathryn didn't know yet. He didn't want to tell her until he knew whether it would work out or not. But what did the Admiral know?

In the end he agreed, as much out of curiosity as to help Kathryn. She really did look unhappy about the entire situation.

The dinner started tensely. As Kathryn programmed the replicator, the Admiral went to the drawer where she kept the linens and flatware and began to set the table. "You need to reduce the cooking time by six percent," the Admiral said, laying the forks in place.

Kathryn stiffened. "I just calibrated this replicator."

"I know. And it's perfectly calibrated. It's just vindictive. Trust me."

From the way Kathryn frowned, Chakotay knew she wasn't going to make the adjustment. And from the way the Admiral smiled, she knew it, too. Then she looked up and caught him studying her. He half-expected to be on the receiving end of the Death Glare, but instead she just cocked one eyebrow at him. It was a conspiratorial gesture that seemed to say they were both in on a secret.

He liked her, he realized. He liked her quite a bit.

Dinner was late and overcooked. No one said anything about it. Instead, they talked about the past. They talked about the Vidiians and the Kazon and the Hirogen. They talked about Starling and Dala and Arachnia. Then the Admiral mentioned Kashyk.

"He was incredibly sexy," she said.

Kathryn nearly choked on her after-dinner coffee, and Chakotay might have as well, if he'd been drinking at that moment. "Wha-what?" Kathryn gasped.

"He was incredibly sexy," the Admiral repeated. "Don't be coy, Captain. We both know that. He was also incredibly dangerous." Her expression changed. "You know, that was probably part of why he was so attractive."

"Too dangerous," Kathryn said primly. Her eyes were flashing a message that Chakotay couldn't read and the Admiral was ignoring. "I would never have risked the ship that way."

"I know. There were so many risks you couldn't take." The Admiral sighed. "Could I have some more tea, please?"

Kathryn nodded, looking relieved that the conversation had turned. Taking the Admiral's cup, she went over to the replicator. As soon as she was out of earshot, the Admiral leaned close to Chakotay. "You've been awfully quiet tonight."

He smiled. "The two of you are doing fine without my help."

An odd look passed across her face. "So. How's your love life?"

A sliver of panic sliced through him, and instinctively he looked across the room to be certain Kathryn wasn't listening. "I, um – "

She chuckled. "Don't worry. She doesn't know yet. I haven't told her about you and Seven."

He stared at her mutely, uncertain of what to say.

"Are you happy?"

He glanced again at Kathryn, then looked back to the Admiral. There was no pain in her expression, only interest. It gave him the confidence to say, "Yes. I think I so."

She smiled. "That's all right, then. Don't be afraid to tell her." She rolled her eyes back towards Kathryn, who was speaking in low tones to the recalcitrant replicator. "She really does care, you know. She wants you to be happy."

Before he could answer, Kathryn exclaimed "Ha!" and they both looked at her. She faced them triumphantly, brandishing a delicate tea pot. "It's just a matter of explaining things to it very carefully."

Sometime later, Kathryn yawned in the middle of a sentence. "Sorry," she said, but then another yawn caught her.

The Admiral rose. "It has been a long day, hasn't it? I should turn in. Thank you for dinner, Captain."

Even after an enjoyable meal and easy conversation, they were still very formal with one another. Kathryn, Chakotay could tell, was not comfortable in the least with this specter of her future self, and while the Admiral did not seem uncomfortable, she did seem bemused, as if she didn't quite know what to make of Kathryn.

For some reason, the difference between the two women had never been as clear to him as they were at that moment, and yet he could not define it except that it had nothing to do with age. He had never thought of Kathryn as soft but somehow, in contrast to the Admiral, she seemed … . not weak; just less driven, less determined.

He blinked at the thought. Over the past seven years, he had watched Kathryn become more and more driven, more consumed with the need to get the ship home, and he had mourned all the pieces of herself she had set aside in the name of that quest. Was the Admiral the end result of that gradual transformation? Would sixteen more years in the quadrant reduce her to an emotional monotone?

And if that was true, what had happened to her once they were home and her quest was fulfilled? How empty she must have felt, to find that her life's ambition was fulfilled and she had reserved nothing else for herself, no other dreams, no other goals. She would have carried on, of course; Kathryn could always carry on. But he wondered if she had been happy. From the way the Admiral looked at the Captain, he guessed that she had not.

A light touch on his arm broke into his thoughts. "Would you mind walking me to my quarters?" the Admiral asked him.

"You need a guide?" Kathryn asked, her mouth quirking.

"No. But I would like to talk with an old friend a little longer."

Chakotay smiled. "I'd be delighted."

"Good night, then. See you bright and early."

Chakotay let the Admiral step through the door first, then followed her into the corridor. "What's it like?" he asked.

"What?"

"Talking to your younger self. It must be strange."

Her eyes seemed to focus on something far away. "Strange. Yes, it is that. There are some things I remember so vividly and others…" She let the thought die. "You know, you never did show me how to sand paint."

Startled, he looked at her. "I thought you – she – you had forgotten about that."

"No." Her mouth curved slightly. "I was always a little afraid to bring it up. Thought it might stir up old memories."

He knew what she meant. It was a promise he had made on New Earth, when they thought they were marooned forever. Once they returned to Voyager, she had never brought it up again. Just mentioning it now made him remember that evening, so many years ago. He was applying the fixative to the final design when he felt her hand on his shoulder. "That's really beautiful," she had said quietly. "Do you think I could learn to do that?"

"I'll teach you," he had promised, and the vision of it had spread before his eyes. He could see them, as clearly as if he were watching a holovid, shoulders touching, leaning close, choosing colors together, his hand guiding hers. But it all remained in his imagination. They were rescued before any of it happened. He had thought about it over the years, but never offered again for fear that she would cut him off. She had done that with increasing frequency over the years, whenever she thought he was leading to something sentimental between them until finally he became resigned to her refusals.

"Do you want to learn?" he asked her now.

"It's on my list of regrets," she admitted.

He looked at her curiously. "You have a list? Is it long?"

Her smile was bittersweet. "Oh, Chakotay. My list of regrets could stretch from here to Earth. A few of them will be erased by this mission." She stopped, and he realized they were at her quarters. "Come in for a moment, will you? There's something I need your help with."

She immediately headed for a chair and sat down. "This is a little embarrassing, but I need help getting my boots off. My foot has cramped up and it's going to take some tugging. I'm not as limber as I used to be."

"Perhaps you should see the Doctor."

A hand waved dismissively, a gesture he recognized. "I don't need him clucking over me and telling me that I'm getting old. I know that already. Please?"

He knelt down in front of her and pulled on the first boot. She was right about the difficulty; he had to pull with some force to get it off. Concerned, he removed the sock that covered it and examined her foot closely. A thick scar snaked from the ankle across the arch to the large toe, red and angry. The toes were splayed and rigid, and the skin across arch was taut. Without thinking twice, he began to massage it.

She closed her eyes. "Thank you."

"How did you get the scar?"

"An away mission that developed a few problems." She opened her eyes and looked at it contemplatively. "I kept it as a reminder."

Her eyes closed again, and she leaned her head back against the chair. She looked sad, he thought. Sad and forlorn.

"Is the future so very bad?" he asked.

"Not all of it." She straightened and smiled. "Tom and B'Elanna had a long time to build the foundation of their marriage. It survived a lot of stress when we got back. Miral had a chance to grow up cherished by the crew. She never knew the kind of ridicule her mother experienced growing up. She turned into a remarkable young woman. Harry got his own command. Others … were happy."

"But not you."

Her smile faded and she pulled her foot free and set in on the deck. "That's much better. Thank you."

"Let's see the other one." He pulled that boot and sock off and saw that it, too, was cramping and began to rub it. "Why are you here, Admiral?"

Her eyebrows arched. "Are you asking me to break the Temporal Prime Directive?"

"Seems to me you've smashed it beyond repair just by coming here. Why? I don't believe that you're doing this just to tidy up the loose ends in your life."

"You don't think I'd do anything to save the lives of my crew?"

He leaned back on his heels. "That's right. I don't think you'd do anything. You'd do everything in your power that was ethical to get us home, and if you thought the cause was sufficient, you'd sacrifice the ship for the greater good."

"You think so."

"I know so."

She leaned forward. "Even if I tell you which people will die, and how, and when? And which people will live, but wish they had died?"

Her voice was thick with implications. Without actually saying so, he knew that he was one of those people: dead or wishing for death. It unnerved him for a moment, but then he said, "We take risks. We know the possibilities. So no, I don't believe you would change history just to save a few of this crew."

To his surprise, she laid her hand against his face. "You always knew me better than I knew myself. You're right. I grieve every day for things that happened in this Quadrant, but that is not why I came back."

"Why, then?"

She took a short breath.  "In order to get home, we had to annihilate the Borg and I mean annihilate.  Future generations may call it genocide, and they may be right."  Her mouth flattened and her voice became taut.  "We – Starfleet as well as myself – hadn't anticipated that the threat of the Borg was all that was holding back Species 8472.  It took them a while, almost six years, to realize the Borg were truly gone, and that the galaxy's supply of nanoprobes was gone with them.   Once they figured it out, they left Fluidic Space with a vengeance.  They began in the Delta Quadrant.  At the time I left, our best estimate was that they had wiped out every species between Talax and Fen Shadar in four years.  For a while it looked as if the Hirogen might stop them; they held out for nearly a year before succumbing."

Chakotay suddenly felt cold.  "Good god."

The Admiral smiled bitterly.  "God has little to do with it.  Even though they could emerge from fluidic space anywhere, they appear – appeared - to be coming systematically. They were following Voyager's exact route, beginning with the Ocampa homeworld.  Current estimates – or rather, estimates when I left, were that they would reach the Alpha quadrant in another year.  In my time, it's unlikely that any other species will be able to stop them.  And without nanoprobes, we had no defense.  It would be a war to save the existence of our species, and we would lose.

"That's why I've come back. If Voyager makes it home now, the Borg will survive. And believe me, if we have to fight the Borg or Species 8472, we want to fight the Borg."

It took a moment for her words to sink in and have actual meaning. They had always perceived the Borg as their greatest enemy, but without nanoprobes they would have no defense against Species 8472. They would lose, and lose quickly. But something wasn't adding up. "But your plan – won't it result in the destruction of the Borg?"

She shook her head. "No. At most it will cripple them. There are five other transwarp hubs and as for the Queen - you don't understand yet how resilient the Collective is. Right now, there are probably half a dozen potential Queens in protected larval states. If we do get lucky and eliminate this one, another will rise and regroup within months. A year at most."

"Then how did you ever manage to eradicate them all?"

Her eyes seemed to fix on something very far away. "Please don't ask me that."

The expression was familiar, a haunted look of guilt and responsibility that he had seen many times in the past, only this time it was worse, it was intensified. He closed his hand over hers reassuringly. "I won't. But I've got no doubt that you only did what was necessary."

"Yes." She spoke in barely more than a whisper, and he wondered what horrors had forced her to a course of action she now labeled genocide. Knowing Kathryn, he thought that the guilt must weigh on her heavily. Where was he, in her time, he wondered. Was he there to help her share this burden?

He sucked in a breath. "Have you told the Captain?"

"No. And I'm asking that you don't tell her, either. At least not until Voyager is back."

"Why? She needs to understand this."

The Admiral smiled ruefully. "You don't understand how much she hates the Borg Queen. Even for me, knowing what I know, that hatred is warm and fresh. If I tell her she's going to annihilate the Borg, she's perfectly capable of deciding that is the best thing that she could do for Earth. She'll gamble that she could bargain with Species 8472."

He considered this. She could be right. Kathryn's relationship with the Borg Queen was something he didn't fully fathom but he knew it was deep and complex. "What will you tell her?"

"Something that will hit her where she lives."

He was going to ask for more detail, but decided against it. That was as much about the future as he needed to know. He let go of her and started to rise, but she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Wait," she said, and then surprised him by leaning forward and kissing him. It was tender and somehow poignant. When she pulled away she was smiling, and her expression was softer than he had yet seen. "Thank you. I always wanted to do that again. Another regret erased."

"Kathryn-"

She covered his lips with two fingers. "No. I'm not your Kathryn. She's down the corridor, and she needs you more than she cares to admit. Promise me, that no matter what happens, you will always be her friend."

"Of course."

Her mouth curved slightly. "By the time you're my age, you'll realize that nothing is a matter of course."

"We are." When she caught her breath slightly, he felt bold enough to ask, "What would happen if we did make it home tomorrow? Would Kathryn feel free to be with me?"

The Admiral smiled. "If we make it home tomorrow, it will be new territory. I don't know what will happen."

"I'm not asking you to predict the future. I'm asking you what you felt." His hands gripped her knees. "Please. It's important."

"I know." Her eyes misted with unshed tears, and he felt his heart lurch. He had not seen Kathryn close to crying in a very long time. "But I don't know what to tell you. It depends on what happens to her when she gets back. She won't drag you into any of her own troubles."

"Not good enough." This was suddenly more important than he meant it to be; he needed to her to give him an answer. The clasp of his hand over hers tightened to a grip. "What does she want?"

The Admiral looked away. Twice her mouth moved as if she were going to speak and twice it closed. Finally, keeping her eyes averted, she said, "And I will come again, my love, though it were ten thousand mile."

It was too much. He fell forward, his head resting on her knees. Those words were the thing he had said to her on New Earth, so many years ago and so far away. He thought she had forgotten them, or worse, chose to pretend that she had forgotten. He had thought it no longer mattered to her. He didn't know whether to be angry with her for years of silence or simply sad.

Her hand stroked his head once, a second time. "I'm sorry," she said. "Believe it or not, I always thought you knew. I figured it out only after it was too late."

He straightened up. "But it's not too late now, is it?"

"Only you know that, I think. Oh, Chakotay, I don't know if we'd have worked together. I just know I wish we could have had the chance to find out."

"Chance." He shook his head. "How many chances do people get in life?"

"I think," she said softly, "that you may get at least one more." He caught her meaning and smiled, and she returned it. "Now go and get some sleep. You've cheered an old lady considerably."

He stood and looked down at her. Yes, her hair was silver and waist a bit thicker, but her skin was smooth and glowing and her eyes were bright and alive. She would always be the one, he thought. Whatever he might feel for Seven or any other woman, Kathryn Janeway would always be the one, the standard by which the others were measured. The one who would always hold a piece of his soul. "You'll never be old, Kathryn. Never."

He was smiling as he left. Whatever happened tomorrow, the future was full of possibilities. It was up to him to shape them.

-the end-

Preceded by:  "Though It Were 10,000 Mile" and "A Red, Red Rose"

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