This one's my response to the song challenge my compadres have recently issued…The song inspired *me*, even if the story hasn't got a hell of a lot to do with it in the end…

Comments and crit to Kevas

Paramount owns the characters, the song's in the public domain. I didn't even look up who wrote it - but we all remember Patsy Cline's voice…

Damn the man. She couldn't remember anybody who had irritated her more. If she heard one more soothing, calming homily from him, she was going to put her fist through a bulkhead. At least it wasn't directed at her this time. He was off throwing oil on the troubled waters, or something.

Chakotay. He was always thorough, reliable, steadfast. A regular boy scout in fact. And never more so than in the past few days. Janeway didn't understand it. He *had* to have been caught off guard. They had all been. The whole inner-peace routine? Pah. He just had a better front than most of the people on this ship. That had to be it.

But here they were. Approaching Spacedock at a stately Warp Three. In all the ways she'd imagined this would happen - and that covered a lot of territory - it hadn't been anything like she expected. They hadn't found a wormhole, or been able to safely adapt the slipstream technology, or found the Caretaker's mate. No.

Much to everyone's surprise, Starfleet - that hidebound, overblown, top-heavy bureaucracy - really had developed a workable transwarp technology. One minute Voyager was in the Delta Quadrant, near some damned nameless Class C planetoid that didn't even have the courtesy to have any useful minerals. Janeway was grousing to Tuvok that if they didn't find some replacement supplies pretty soon they'd be reduced to eating the dried store of leola root that Neelix had assured them would be fit to eat for years--as if the stuff had ever been fit to eat. Anyway she'd been complaining to her third officer, a useless enterprise if there ever was one, when suddenly their sensors bounced off the scale, there was a massive warp surge, and the U.S.S. Constitution popped out of some-bloody-where and announced that it was here to bring them home.

They'd been rescued. Like helpless children that had managed to get lost a few blocks from home. It still burned in her gut. She'd had fantasies, admittedly ego-centered and ridiculous, of triumphantly bringing her lost crew home. Oh, and look, not only did we manage to survive the Vidiians and the Kazon and damaged shuttlecraft and never enough supplies and malfunctioning gelpacks, not to mention Species 8472 and the Borg - the Borg, dammit! But we also managed to take on those terrifying criminals you sent us after and not only tame them, but turn them into loyal officers. Look at us!

Look at *me*, a small voice inside her head pouted. Showed them, didn't we?

No. This wasn't quite the way she'd imagined it would be.

Janeway was ashamed of herself, of course, for being so mad about it. She knew it was petty, but privately she admitted to herself how much it went against the grain. They'd all held together for so long, against such overwhelming odds, she'd at least wanted the triumph of being the one to bring them home.

Well, no, she knew very well she hadn't done it by herself. She'd had the best crew in the Fleet, bar none, and those terrifying criminals had been a major part of that crew. Her first officer included.

He was giving her all the credit, of course. That irritated her almost as much as the fact that the Constitution had been sent to fetch them back. The Constitution! An *old* ship, at that. Oh, Captain Yossarian had explained that Starfleet had logically had to use a vessel for its trial run that was…somewhat more expendable than their newest Class-A ship.

And that was what it boiled down to. They were rescued by a second-class vessel fielded by a second-stringer who was bucking for a field promotion. And Janeway knew she ought to be grateful for it. Well, she was. Really.

As for Chakotay, her Maquis-renegade-turned-exemplary Starfleet-officer? *Again*, that is? Her first officer, her Fine First Officer, had been soothing raw nerves and anxious fears for the last three days. The Constitution had been able to jury-rig the transwarp technology onto B'Elanna's precious warp core, but they hadn't been able to do anything about the traffic cops between Starbase Seven, where both ships had popped out of warp, and Starfleet Spacedock. They had to reduce to a sedate warp three for that part of the trip.

Three days. Three days of worrying and wondering what was going to happen now. Half the crew was so high from natural endorphins they weren't working worth a damn, and the other half was so worried about what they'd find when they got home that they were even worse.

Chakotay had been wandering the ship for most of these three days, offering humor and a friendly shoulder, sharing anecdotes and concerns. In fact he'd just stopped to speak with Neelix, not far from the table where Janeway sat, nursing a glass of…something or other, and wishing for once that it was scotch. The little Talaxian was brimming with good cheer, and underneath that was so frightened he'd actually served meat to Chakotay and given Janeway what tasted like Ogilan swamp water instead of the coffee she'd requested.

*Just* before she'd blown up at Neelix, Chakotay had turned to him, said in that damned disarming soft voice, "I think it's a little late to cure the Captain's addiction," laughed affectionately when Neelix apologized, and offered to swap his dinner with Janeway's.

She'd dumped the damned tray in his lap, and stormed back to her quarters.

And sure enough, there was her door chime now. What she wouldn't give for just a few hours of peace and quiet. Fat chance. "All *right*. Come."

The panel slid open with a hissy little squeak. One more thing that needed fixing. Janeway glared at it, and her expression didn't change when she saw Chakotay framed in the doorway. "What do you want?" she snapped.

He stepped through, looked at the door for a moment, shrugged, and said, "I thought you might like to talk. We haven't had much of a chance."

She got a leash on her temper, with an effort. "I see you took a moment to change."

Chakotay glanced down at his uniform. "I thought I'd better. I didn't really want to explain why I was wearing fricassee de Neelix for the rest of the shift."

"I'm sorry about that. I don't know what made me lose my temper." Her tone wasn't particularly apologetic.

"Apology accepted."

She nodded. Fine. "So. What else."

"Let's see. Jenny Delaney broke her arm a little while ago. She was jogging on Deck Nine and slipped and somehow twisted her arm under her." Chakotay smiled a little. "I think she's been a little on edge. The doc's fixing it now. What else. The turbolifts on Decks 11 through 13 have malfunctioned again. B'elanna's tracking the cause down. Captain Yossarian has invited you to dinner on board the Constitution. Sort of a pre-welcome home, I think. Tuvok has asked to talk to you at your convenience about the proper disposition of his logs. We've had three media requests channeled through the official Starfleet channel. They're already asking for interviews. --And I thought maybe you'd tell me why you're so mad."

Janeway nodded, listening to Chakotay's list of mishaps and requests, and almost missed his last question. "-Oh. I'm not angry."

Chakotay eyed her implacably. "Uh huh. You just dumped a tray of Talaxian goulash in my lap, but you're not angry." He moved to her replicator. "You mind if I get something to drink?"

"Oh hell, just help yourself." Which he was already doing. "I am *not* angry. Oh, I'm a little irritated, maybe. But there've been forty things on my plate in the last two days, what do you expect." Chakotay didn't point out that he had been equally busy. Somehow Janeway didn't think it was kindness that restrained him.

He eyed her, not saying a word, just lifted his glass from the replicator when it appeared. Arms crossed, Janeway looked around her quarters. "I guess maybe I'm a little…unsettled. Somehow I thought I'd…we'd have more time to prepare for this. It's going to be a circus."

Still nothing from Chakotay. She glared at him. "And why aren't you more worried? We don't even know what they're going to say about you and your people."

He walked closer now. "*My* people?"

"Oh, you know what I mean. I just don't feel like spelling out the whole list of names."

"Here." He slipped his glass into her hand.

She stared at it for a moment. "A glass of water? I'm worried about the fate of half my crew and you're giving me a goddamn glass of water?"

"It's not water, Kathryn. Just have some."

In defiance, she raised the glass and took a healthy swig. And gasped. It was pure hootch, gin maybe, or belasair. "Good god," she said when she could breathe again. "What *is* this stuff? And why are you giving it to me? You don't even drink."

Chakotay tilted his head, watching her. "It's…purely for medicinal purposes. Drink up."

She shot him a sour glance. "Trying to get me drunk? It's a little late for that, isn't it?"

His hand shot out and pulled her chin up. "All right. That's about enough. What's gotten into you?"

"I could ask the same." Janeway was tempted to drain the glass, but that would be a mistake. Or a concession. She put it carefully down on her coffee table and slipped wearily back onto the couch.

She didn't remember the cushions on this old sofa being so inviting. Or maybe she hadn't realized how tense she was, and how good it would feel to relax, even a little. "I'm…I don't know." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I guess I just didn't expect it to be like this."

"What? Our homecoming?"

"Yes. I'm glad we're home, I'm happy for everybody that wants to…" She caught herself before she said too much. "Of course I'm glad. It's just…"

"You envisioned coming home in a blaze of glory." Chakotay sat down on the end of the couch, not too close, one arm stretched across the back of the cushions. He turned a little to face her.

"I suppose. I certainly didn't expect to come home as if we were poor relations who couldn't pay the transport fares!"

Chakotay shook his head slightly. "I know. But--Kathryn. We've survived. We've managed against dreadful odds. And brought back data that will have the Bureau of Sciences salivating for decades."

She shrugged. "Yes. I know."

"--Not to mention the information you have on the Borg. Maybe you don't realize what an accomplishment that is."

She waved that away, and lifted her chin defiantly. "I know it is. And I'm proud of every person on this ship. They've been wonderful."

"But…"

"--Oh, hell. The Constitution. The goddamned *Constitution*! It's--it's- it's downright humiliating. As if we got lost or something."

Chakotay leaned back into the cushions, crossing his arms and studying her. "Well, we *were* lost, on a very big scale. Why does it bother you so much? This has been your goal since the day we met the Caretaker." Eyes narrowed, Chakotay looked down for a moment, hiding his smile. "Very much the Starship Captain."

"What?"

"I said," and now he directed his gaze squarely at Janeway, "how very much you are a Starship Captain. I don't suppose there's one who isn't going to empathize with you."

"Or laugh at me," she groused, pushing herself off the sofa.

Exasperated, he reached out and grabbed her wrist. "Kathryn. Listen to yourself! In a minute you're going to stamp your foot. Grow up."

She swung to face him, shoulders tensed. "What?"

He raised an eyebrow, mocking her. "I said 'grow up'. It didn't happen the way you'd hoped. Sorry. Tough break."

Janeway saw red. "Of all the--this is a HELL of a moment and you're in here telling me I'm acting like a kid? I ought to bust your ass so quick you'd-" She brought herself up short.

Chakotay leaned back again. "So quick I'd…" he urged.

"Oh, hell. Just shut up," she sighed, settling back down onto the couch. After a moment, she eyed him in exasperation. "Where's all this comfort you're giving everybody else these days? Hell of a bedside manner *you've* got."

The minute the words were out, she froze, color coursing through her cheeks. Chakotay laughed softly. "If I'd known that's what you were looking for-"

Janeway slumped a little. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

"Oh." She could still see the grin, though it was gone from his face. But the moment passed and she studied her hands, absentmindedly. "I'm embarrassed even to say it. I guess I just wanted more. I wanted to come back and throw the keys to the Delta Quadrant at Starfleet's feet and say, here, look what we did."

"Look what *I* did," Chakotay added softly. "You can still say that. Proudly. You'd better say it. Everybody else will be."

She laughed shortly at that. "I suppose. Seven-day wonder, and all that."

"What is this, Kathryn? Feeling sorry for yourself?" Chakotay's gaze was serious this time.

"No." Full of nervous energy, Janeway pulled herself up, wandering across her quarters to her desk. She touched it tentatively, then turned back to him. "Well…maybe a little. I'm just…"

"What."

"For the first time in years I can see what's ahead of me. In the short term. In the long term? Well that's a different story."

"And for the first time in…a long time…you don't know what the next step is."

"The first time-ever, really. I always knew what was ahead of me, if I planned well and worked very hard. Now…" She shook her head angrily. "I don't know. And I hate that. I like being sure of things."

"I've noticed."

A wry smile touched her lips, but she didn't look at Chakotay. "Yes. I'm sure you have. I like being sure. I like being in control. I like being right."

"I've noticed that too. From time to time." His voice was soft, and absolutely neutral, offering nothing.

Janeway looked across the room at him now, hearing the challenge even when he didn't say it. "Tomorrow we're there. You prepared for what that brings?"

"We still don't know what's going to happen."

"No." She drew in a sharp breath, and blew it out in a hiss. She stared at the room, at the years spent and gone forever, and finally at him. "And I've been blindly shoving my way toward this day. Pigheaded." She snorted indelicately. "It's one of the things I do best."

"How can you say that? You've brought us all home."

"Yes," but she shook her head, still standing meters away from him in her quarters that seemed suddenly much too large, or too small. Too small to hide in. Been doing that a lot, lately.

Chakotay turned to her, holding himself still. "Then you'll have to tell me what you mean. I don't understand."

"I think you do." Janeway crossed the room, a journey over in seconds. Six years worth of seconds. She stood before him, not touching. "I've worked all this time to bring our crew home. And I did it the only way I knew how."

"Yes. I know." Chakotay reached out and touched her wrist, grasping lightly, waiting to see if she'd smile apologetically, or move away, or…not move away.

"It was the only way I knew." He knew that was the only apology he was ever going to get. "But we're almost there. And I don't want to cross the finish line alone."

He found a smile from somewhere. "I've told you and told you, Kathryn…"

The light in her eyes was the beginning of a glorious grin. "Maybe I can admit it now. Maybe I…" Chakotay's hand slid from her arm to her waist, "Maybe I was wrong."

Both hands on her back now, he urged her gently forward. They were very close. "Maybe."

"…I thought I'd lost you."

Chakotay closed his eyes for a minute, hands sliding on her back. "Then you definitely were."

"What?"

He reached up to nuzzle at her neck. "You were wrong."

SO WRONG
I've been so wrong
For so long
Thought I could live
Without the love that you give
I was wrong
Oh so wrong
I've been so wrong
For so long
I didn't know
That I loved you so
I was wrong
Well I never knew
I could want you darling oh so much
Now that you're gone I dream of you and your sweet touch
I was so wrong
For so long
But I've seen the light
Darling I'll make it right
I was wrong