Yet another 'after they get home' story. I tell ya, I got a million of 'em. It tries to be heavy on the angst, but watch out for the major cop-out at the end.

Disclaimer: The Star Trek universe and everything in it belongs to Paramount, not me. I'm just playing with their toys and hoping I won't get sued for it. No infringement of copyright law (or any law for that matter) is intended.

When all was said and done, when the celebrations were over and the press had settled down, when we'd all shaken hands with the President of the UFP and our loved ones had stopped crying, when the last bottle of champagne had been popped, the admiralty - those in charge of our case - quickly came to the conclusion that they had no idea what to do with us. Not a clue.

The Maquis were the most obvious problem, but not the largest or most complicated by far. There was Seven, a human-come-Borg-come-human, who just happened to have so much classified information in her head that various members of Starfleet security were tearing their hair out in frustration. Then there was the Doctor - a sentient hologram who not only seemed to experience emotions, but who was also extremely attached to a piece of highly contraband twenty-ninth century technology. Neelix was also causing some problems, being an ambassador from a world no one outside of the Voyager crew had ever heard of. The original Starfleet members of the Voyager crew were going to be the least trouble to deal with, but they would still all require extensive counselling to reintegrate them into normal Starfleet life.

And then there was me.

There had been a hell of a lot of discussion over our mission logs. Encounter after encounter, decision after decision, picking over every little detail till I wanted to scream. The most frustrating thing was that after the entire excruciating ordeal, after they ranted and raved at me, demanding to know just what the hell I'd thought I was doing on this occasion or that, they weren't going to do anything about it. Not a damn thing. They weren't even going to call me on our numerous run ins with the Borg, not to mention any of a hundred times I gave a command I felt sure would have Starfleet Command spitting blood.

I suppose they couldn't really court marshal me, though. Not after all the hype over our victorious return. And I'm certainly not complaining about my commendation. It's just... not what I was expecting.

And now I'm on leave. It was good to spend time with my family. Phoebe's married now. God, I never thought I'd see her settle down. Her husband is nice enough, and at least my mother doesn't have to despair of never having any grandchildren to spoil. And I saw Mark, and met his wife. That was awkward, as I knew it would be. He just seemed so guilty about it all - that he'd fallen out of love with me, and found someone else. But I could see straight away how well suited they were. He's probably far happier with her than he ever was with me. And we'll remain friends, of course. I can't remember a time, apart from on Voyager, when Mark wasn't somewhere in my life. It's comforting, in a way, to think that some things will never change.

They'll contact me soon, I think. Starfleet, I mean. It's been a month, and they'll want to talk about my future. They're not sure what to do with me, of course, but I'm not sure I really care anymore. I just want to make sure my crew is treated fairly, and otherwise to be left alone - at least for the time being. I think I've earned that.

The street I'm walking down is dark and shadowy, though it's only early evening here. It's silly, but sometimes I still have to remind myself that I'm actually here, and that I'm not actually on the holodeck back on Voyager. Everything here just seems to have that surreal quality to it - like a holographic representation of Earth.

I turn a corner, and there's a bar up ahead. I'm meeting him there.

Chakotay.

We've had an odd relationship since we got back - maybe even a touch surreal itself. There was a time when it was nice to imagine that... well... that we belonged together. That fate had thrown us together on Voyager for the sole purpose of us finding each other. Sickeningly dramatic, I know. But I think that that particular little fantasy was simply too weak to hold up through everything. There wasn't enough reasoning behind it to last very long once we returned to Earth.

Mostly I think it was all just a bit much. Our experiences tied us together - too tightly to be undone, really - but still, there's been too much water under the bridge. Too much water, and a hundred other colloquialisms that nicely sum up the fact that the years of denial and betrayal on both our parts, would ultimately hinder any attempt at a normal relationship.

I shake my head a little as I push open the door. I'm in a fine mood tonight - that's what my mother would say. All these sullen, bitter thoughts are stemming more from the fact that I'm feeling a bit sorry for myself, than from any real conviction on the topic.

I peer around once I'm inside. The bar is dimly lit, and the atmosphere is just a touch sleazy. It complements my mood. I wonder how Chakotay knew? Then I see him sitting there across the room, watching me, waiting to catch my eye. It's good to see him, and I smile.

A little while later we're sitting across from one another, sipping our drinks and talking.

"What have they been telling you?" I ask, after we've done with the niceties.

"Still asking me questions. I'm not sure they know what to tell me, yet."

I nod. Just as I thought. "I know what you mean. They haven't said it, but they don't have to. They're 'concerned' about some of my actions out there. I know most of them just want to give me a nice, safe research position - preferably on some outpost or starbase well within Federation borders."

"What will you do if that's what they offer you?"

"I have no idea," I reply, and laugh a little, "Maybe that's all I'm fit for, now. Maybe it's even what I want. I'm not sure how I'd handle another command after Voyager. That's what scares the admiralty, I suppose. They're afraid of what I'll do in certain situations. What if I come up against the Borg again? Will I greet them as my comrades in arms? And who's to say that I wouldn't?"

He sighed. "Maybe we just need some more time. I don't know about you, but I can't help feeling a little out of place here."

I look down at my drink for a moment. "It's not how we thought it would be, is it?"

"No. It's not."

"I guess it was naive, my vision of our perfect, triumphant return."

"'You can never go home again'," he quotes, and then explains when I look confused. "It's just something I heard once. I'm not sure where it comes from, but it seems appropriate, don't you think?"

I nod - I recognise the saying now. It makes immediate sense of our situation. Our time in the delta quadrant changed us in such a way as to ensure that what had once been our home could never really be again. Not in the same way.

I'm silent for a time - I admit that I'm brooding, and if I want to be brutally honest, I'm feeling even more sorry for myself than before. But I'm not so immersed in thought that I don't notice Chakotay watching me with a kind of wary expression. After a few moments, he finishes off the rest of his drink in one mouthful, and seems to come to a decision. It occurs to me an instant before he speaks, just what exactly is coming.

"There's something... I think we should talk about. It's actually the real reason I wanted to meet with you like this."

I don't say anything. I probably couldn't find the words if I wanted to. He seems to realise that I know what this is about. He forgoes any formalities and launches straight into it.

"I just need to know... On Voyager, I know you had your reasons. But now we're back. This is all that we wanted for so long, even if it isn't exactly how any of us imagined it would be. At the moment I'm not really sure where I'll be in a month, let alone in a year, or two. But there's one thing that I am certain of... Kathryn..." he reaches across the table and takes my hand, and for some reason my eyes fill with tears at the gesture. "I know this may not be what you want to hear. But I was never able to say it on Voyager, so I'm saying it now. I want to be with you. That's all I ever wanted," he finishes roughly.

Oh God, is my only thought for a few blurry seconds. Actually hearing him say it... Actually voicing the feelings we both harboured for all those years... It makes me rethink everything.

But maybe all the tender feelings in the world can't make up for the hard truths of the here and now. Chakotay never saw it on Voyager. He never saw that out there everything was noble. The longing was sweet, the stolen looks were exciting, the chaste gestures of mutual affection and love were beautiful. But it was really just an illusion we created to cover up the bitterness.

I never saw it back then either, but sitting across from him, I can't help but wonder whether he doesn't see it too. If this isn't just some last ditch attempt at beginning something that was probably never meant to be. Is he doing this because he thinks he should, or is it was what he really wants?

Of course, maybe I'm just thinking about things too much. I've been known to do that. People have been telling me my entire life that I read too much into situations. I suppose its my way of making up for all the times I have to make snap decisions in command.

I look up at him then, and he's looking at me with all the sincerity of his nature written on his face. However he views our situation now, however the dynamic between us has changed, I know he meant what he said. I know the way I've always known when it comes to him. He really does want to be with me.

So perhaps... perhaps none of it really matters. Maybe these dark thoughts are really just me being over-dramatic. Maybe Chakotay's right. Maybe he was right all along.

"Kathryn?" he's saying my name now, and looking at me with such trepidation, and hope.

And I know this is so ridiculous. These thoughts running in circles, going back and forth, till I might just go insane. I need to make a choice. And it's easy, really. A simple matter of whether I want to be alone, or to be with him. And there isn't a single real, logical reason why I shouldn't be with him.

So I smile at him, and squeeze his hand. And I suppose we'll walk together tonight through the dark streets, holding hands. And after that I'll take him home with me, and I'll take him to bed. It's a nice thought, and I smile some more.

Suddenly I don't feel quite so sorry for myself.

Fin.

I tried, really I did. I guess I just wasn't in as angsty a mood when I finished it as when I started. :0)

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Captain Janeway is times better than Kirk.