A/N: This story was inspired by Shonetta's beautiful video, I Should've Followed You Home, and the song of the same title by Agnetha Faltskog. Thanks to Shonetta for the inspiration and to Mizvoy for the, as always, careful and patient editing.

I Should've Followed You Home

By KJaneway115

Kathryn Janeway inhaled deeply and savored the smell of fresh air. She had been back on Earth for nearly six months, and for six months, she had waited to come here. Nowhere else in the universe did the air smell as fresh and sweet as it did at Lake George. She took another deep breath, grabbed her bag from the back of the hovercar, and headed towards the house. She only spent a moment inside, depositing her luggage inside the screen porch. Then, as she walked down the hill towards the water, she broke into a run, and suddenly she felt as if she were seven years old again, arriving at the lake for a summer vacation with her grandparents. Once a year, every year of life until she had been stranded in the Delta Quadrant, she had spent time at Lake George. And each year, the first thing she did was hurry to the water's edge to greet the lake. Now, as she crouched down and immersed her hands in the water, the heels of her Starfleet issue boots digging into the sand, she felt an unexpected lump rise in her throat. "Hello," she whispered, as if the lake could hear her. The water responded by lapping at her fingers, and she touched her wet fingertips to her forehead - a blessing, a healing, a renewal.

She stood and walked onto the dock, gazing out across the water. The lake was still like glass, with only the occasional ripple disturbing it. It was after sunset, and the sky, lined with hazy clouds, had already turned a deep purple. In seven years, only the sight of her home planet on Voyager's view screen had been more beautiful. Although it had been six month since she had returned to the Alpha Quadrant, this was the first chance she'd gotten to escape to Lake George.

The cabin had been in the Janeway family for five generations. It was nestled among the trees, up a small hill from the water. It had a private beach and a private dock that faced west and was the perfect place to sit and watch the sunset. As children, Kathryn and Phoebe had played pretend in the surrounding forest and spent long days in the lake. When she was a teenager, the lake had become Kathryn's sanctuary. Over the years, it had remained a constant in her life, a place of peace and renewal that allowed her to collect her thoughts and feel whole again. She knew that this place was what she needed now.

The last six months had been trying, but not for the reasons she had anticipated. Starfleet had welcomed the former Maquis, Seven and Icheb with open arms. The challenge had not been courts martial or fighting jail sentences. The real challenge had been helping her crew adjust to life back on Earth, renewing familial relationships and old friendships, accepting new assignments and assimilating into new crews when her crew had been used to working together for so many years. Kathryn had dealt with these challenges herself while she'd tried to help her crew face them. And the process was made ten times harder by the fact that Chakotay was no longer by her side to share the burden.

From somewhere in the distance, she heard the long, lonely cry of the loon, and she wished she could answer in kind to let the bird know that a kindred soul had heard it, that it wasn't alone. She looked up at the sky. The first stars were just becoming visible as dusk settled over the land. Are you out there somewhere? she wondered. Will you ever come back to me? You're not alone, Chakotay. I know, wherever you are, whatever you're going through, you must feel terribly, utterly alone. But you're not. I'm there with you.

She felt a familiar constriction in her chest. She'd been given a second chance, but by the time she realized it, she'd already been too late.

They'd been home for two weeks, and she hadn't unpacked a single bag. Debriefings, celebrations, interviews with media, and meetings with Federation Council members had occupied every minute of her time. Now, finally, she had a quiet moment to herself. Starfleet had assigned her temporary quarters, and although she wanted something more permanent, she couldn't foresee having time to look for a house any time soon. So at the very least, she needed to unpack more than a couple of uniforms and a toothbrush.

She was going through a Starfleet issue duffel bag that she had packed on Voyager when she found a PADD she did not remember packing. "What's this?" she murmured. She activated it and froze when she saw the signature: Admiral Kathryn Janeway. When she recovered her faculties, she sat down on the edge of the bed and began to read.

Dear Kathryn,

It's strange to be writing a letter to myself, but I suppose I'm getting the opportunity that everyone wishes they had: the chance to go back. So, I'm going to offer you some unsolicited advice, not that I expect you to take it. I, of all people, know how stubborn you can be. But please, try to listen, and take this in the spirit in which it's meant.

First, I have to apologize for the way I told you some of what I told you about your future, your potential future. At the time, it seemed like the only way to get your attention. And I needed to get your attention.

Now, I'll answer a question you didn't ask. I've got to hand it to you, really, for not asking. There's that stubbornness again, I guess. I could see it in your eyes though; I could see you wondering, every time you looked at him, every time you looked at me. What happened to my Chakotay? He died not long after we made it home. He kept his promise and stood by my side until then, but I think that was all he could take. The doctors never could explain it. They had him on all kinds of feeding tubes and vitamin supplements, but he just wasted away. I think he just gave up. He had nothing to live for, nothing to fight for. Seven was gone. Tom and B'Elanna visited, but they had their own life and their own family. The other former Maquis were either scattered or dead. And our friendship... Well, I guess he thought we were past the point of no return, and I don't blame him for that. I never gave him any reason to think otherwise. Another thing to add to my long list of regrets.

When I found out about him and Seven, it hit me a lot harder than I thought it would. I got over it, or thought I did. I officiated at their wedding. I smiled. I put on a brave face. I think I convinced him that I was happy for them. I spent some time with them as a couple, but after Seven died, it was too hard to be alone with him, and we stopped spending time together. I don't know if he blamed me for sending her on that away mission, but I certainly blamed myself. I couldn't look him in the eye after that; I thought I had taken away the thing that was most precious to him. I saw that he was suffering, but I didn't know how to help him. I didn't want to add my burden to the one he was already carrying. But I still needed him; I missed him desperately. I used to pace back and forth in my quarters and talk to him as if he was there with me. I still talk to him, you know; I never could quit that habit. Unfortunately, it's been a one way conversation for many years. I can't tell you how much I've longed for him to answer me.

I was never with anyone else. I just couldn't conceive of it. It wasn't for lack of opportunities; there were a line of suitors at my door, all anxious to court the famous captain who brought Voyager home. But I couldn't bring myself to look at a single one of them. Don't mistake me; Chakotay and I were never a couple, not in the traditional sense, anyway. But I realized, after he was gone, that he meant much more to me than I'd ever admitted to myself. I realized a lot of things after he was gone.

You might think that I told you about his marriage to Seven and about Seven's death so that you could ensure their happy future together. But if there's one thing you can learn from my actions, it's that the future is never set in stone. Never.

I've always wondered, if I had handled the situation differently, what would have happened between us. Now, even though I won't live to see it, you get to find out. Don't lose him, Kathryn. You need him and he needs you. As friends, as lovers, as partners, it doesn't matter in what capacity. But don't shut him out, and don't try to determine what will make him happy. Don't sacrifice yourself for what you think he wants. Trust me. You can't live without him, and he sure as hell won't live without you.

It's too late for me, now. I've lived too long without hope, without faith, without trust, and without him. But you still have a chance. Only one of us is going home after this mission, and I'm glad that one of us is you. Most of us only get one life. In a way, I've been given two, and for that, I'm grateful. But this is your last chance. Don't waste it.

Admiral Kathryn Janeway

When she finished reading the letter, hot tears were streaming down Janeway's cheeks. Because the admiral had warned her, she had not been surprised when Chakotay and Seven had beamed off of Voyager together after the debriefings. She had smiled at them and given them each a friendly hug. She had felt Chakotay's gaze boring into her, but she had avoided his eyes and ordered the transporter operator to energize. She hadn't wondered what he'd wanted to say until the admiral's words had put everything into a new perspective.

Reading over the message again, Kathryn realized what a fool she'd been. Had she ruined the greatest friendship she'd ever had? They hadn't always seen eye to eye, but Chakotay had been by her side for seven years, and he had never let her down. She had depended on him as an officer and cared about him deeply as a friend. Yet she had allowed him to walk away without more than a perfunctory hug and some empty words of encouragement. She owed him more than that, a lot more. Sniffling and wiping her sleeve across her eyes, Janeway vowed to comm Chakotay in the morning and tell him what she should have said weeks earlier.

The next morning, when she attempted to contact him, he was already gone.

Two weeks after Voyager's return, Chakotay had accepted a top secret assignment. Even Janeway didn't know what it was or where he had gone; she was lucky she'd been able to pry even that much information out of Admiral Paris. Whatever the mission was, it must have been urgent and very secret, because he left without saying a word to anyone.

In the months since then, she had learned that he and Seven had ended their brief liaison before he had left, but Seven had no idea if his mission had any bearing on that decision. Seven had confided in Janeway that she was glad he had ended it, because she needed time to explore many relationship options now that the entire Alpha Quadrant was at her disposal. Kathryn had felt a quiet relief at this, but the feeling was short lived.

A month into his mission, Chakotay had failed to check in with his supervisor. Two weeks later, he had been declared officially missing. Starfleet had made several attempts to learn his whereabouts, but Janeway had been kept entirely out of the loop. She was seen as too biased where her former crew was concerned, and this frustrated her immensely. She wanted to do something. Instead, she was relegated to the sidelines while Starfleet assured her they were doing everything they could to find and rescue her former first officer. She knew it wouldn't be long now before they gave up the search and declared him dead.

As she stared out at the water, dusk falling around her, she was flooded with memories. She had not been to Lake George in seven years, but she had created a holographic representation of the place on Voyager, and Chakotay was the only person she had ever shared it with. The stars began to appear in the night sky, and she remembered a night, long ago, when they had sat together on the deck of a holographic sailboat, their bodies pressed too close together while she pointed out the constellations to him. She remembered the look in his eyes, the one that told too much, when he had thought he had lost her. She remembered thinking that the night air on the holodeck smelled almost as sweet as the real thing, and telling him so. "I can't imagine anything sweeter than this," he had whispered in response, and she had known he had wanted to kiss her, but he had held back. So many times, he had held back. So many times, she had concealed her true feelings, even from herself.

This is your last chance. Don't waste it. The admiral's words. But Kathryn was afraid she had already lost whatever chance she'd had.