A/N: Voyager is the first series I ever wrote for (some of those fairly horrible stories are still on this site, even). Watching it again with adult eyes, I felt the need to render these characters in a somewhat more mature way, with a subtlety that strives to honor the depth of the original. Please enjoy.

Note: This will be a multi-chapter "getting together" story. It marginally follows 4x15, Hunters.

Closing the Distance: Chapter 1

Kathryn Janeway had long suspected the collusion, but today her worst fears had been confirmed: the sonic shower was in league with the replicator, and they were both holding a grudge. Sprawled on the floor of her bathroom with the wiring panel open and a laser solder in her hand, she regretted again her unkind comments about the replicator when she was first being shown her quarters—fresh off two months' leave and her mother's home cooking, she hadn't found the ornery little matter-energy converter particularly impressive, but if she'd known they were going to be stuck together for four years already, she would have tried to be a little more polite. The shower hadn't really given her any trouble until the last couple months, which had been so chaotic that her bathtub had gone all but unused, and apparently the shower had taken exception to her grumbling about it while she rushed through her pre-shift routine. This morning was supposed to have been a relaxing one, but her appliances had taken care of that: all she'd wanted was a cup of coffee, but every command she gave the replicator was met with an earsplitting whistle from the direction of the bathroom as the sonic shower outputs achieved nearly supersonic range. Completely rewiring the entire unit might have been a little extreme, but in her defense, she hadn't had her coffee yet.

Kathryn brushed her hair out of her eyes with the back of her wrist and lurched up, twisting to reach the spanner. Circuits reintegrated, she held her breath, dreading the return of the hair-raising hum; after a few moments of tenuous silence, she slumped back against the wall, dragging her hands through her unkempt hair. She was too aggravated now to bother with a slow bath, but under no circumstances was she risking the shower so soon—she'd be bathing out of the sink this morning, something she hadn't done since her days pulling all-nighters at the Academy library and running to class in yesterday's uniform. At least this time she had nowhere to be.

If the last six months of their journey through the unknown reaches of the Delta Quadrant had been a sea at storm, the last two weeks had brought a sudden, unexpected calm. Their last stop for fuel, supplies, and directions had revealed that the dominant species in this region, the Hanhari, were on the eve of a millennial holiday they called the Parade of the Immortals, a month-long reprieve from all industry and space travel during which the citizens of the Hanhari worlds dedicated themselves to the contemplation of the Class F reflection nebula visible from their solar system. The nebula had presented as mundane to Voyager's scans, little more than an ethereal blue-green fog cradling juvenile stars, but apparently that was all about to change—according to the trader who'd been willing to replenish their dilithium for slightly more than a fair price, the souls of all those who had died in the last thousand years would soon pass through the nebula, bearing their funeral candles and setting the sky aflame.

Kathryn had a feeling there was a more scientific explanation for whatever was about to happen, but she had been sufficiently intrigued to authorize a detour. The Hanhari had given permission for Voyager to observe the phenomenon from close in, and Tom had parked them at a safe distance—and apparently that had been her miscalculation, because at a safe distance there was very little for them to do, and that had given her tactical officer ideas. Kathryn dipped her hands into the sink and scooped the water over her bowed head, gasping as the cold droplets ran into her sensitive ears.

Tuvok had approached her before about letting junior officers train on the bridge and in Engineering, about the eventual necessity of having personnel qualified to replace the senior staff, but between malfunctions, hostile encounters, and internal disasters, it had never seemed like the right time. Once they took up position outside the nebula, she no longer had that excuse. A few days out of the big chair should have been a relief after four years navigating near-constant peril, but Kathryn was finding it more unsettling than anything; she jumped at every noise, every unfamiliar shiver that ran through the ship, and if B'Elanna's voice over the comm was any indication, her chief engineer was out of patience with the captain calling "just to check in" on the junior engineering staff. She'd chanced a trip up to the bridge the day before to watch her crew in action, but Tuvok had seen that it was a very short visit, barely escorting her once around the bridge before she was back in the turbolift with her head spinning. All in all, she was getting the distinct impression that she was regarded as a nuisance on her own ship, and that made her incredibly restless. B'Elanna likely would have jumped at the chance for her up-and-coming engineers to do something non-critical, like fixing the captain's shower, but the fact was, she simply needed something to do. Being off duty gave her far too much time to think.

Having tamed the whorls of her hair as well as she could with only her wet fingers, Kathryn stepped back into her bedroom and dressed automatically, only realizing when she reached the jacket that she could have gone without her uniform. She sank into a chair with the jacket in one hand and her pips in the other, carefully ignoring the PADD balanced on the precarious curve of the armrest. Professor Somak had once walked in on her washing her hair in the library sink the day of her temporal mechanics final, but that wasn't why the strict Vulcan who taught Moral and Ethical Issues of Command had been on her reading list this morning. Kathryn liked to imagine that if her replicator hadn't instigated a mutiny she might have faced what was on that PADD by now, but the truth was she'd spent the past two days trying to get past the first sentence.

Always maintain emotional distance between yourself and those under your command.

It was Somak's guiding principle, the one with which she began every class, and Kathryn Janeway had done everything in her power to uphold it, but the last few days, staring at those stark words made something inside of her balk. What she couldn't decide was which part of her was recoiling from Somak's treatise: the part that worried she was closer to the line than she should be, or the part that feared Somak would talk her out of leaping right over it.

It was Chakotay. It was always Chakotay. She glanced at the far wall as if just thinking of him might be enough to bring him running from his quarters next door, then shook herself and stood to pull on her uniform jacket. She fixed the pips to her collar one by one, pressing hard against the cool metal as if she could force herself to remember the weight of command with that fading brand. But in spite of herself, that wasn't what she was remembering: she was remembering the feel of his fingertips raking over hers as he took her fork in the mess hall the night before, rescuing her from the last of whatever Neelix had concocted that was nothing like boysenberry pie. Kathryn closed her eyes and leaned back against the support column between her windows.

The last few days, since she'd been sentenced to endless time to think, her mind kept returning to a puzzle her father had given her when she was young: Zeno's paradox of the tortoise and Achilles, the fable in which Achilles, racing the tortoise, covers half the distance to his opponent each time, and thus never catches up. For so long now, she had imagined that her relationship with Chakotay followed the same rules: no matter how close they got, the final step was impossible, a distance between them that could never be closed. But something had changed the night she lay beside him and stared into his shadowed face with his warm body wrapped around her. Every day he stood a little closer and she smiled a little longer when she met his eyes. Every day she was confronted with the realities of physics: that motion was in fact possible, and so Achilles' victory was not only feasible but in fact inevitable, and that meant she and Chakotay were moving toward something, one inexorable inch at a time.

She had always sworn to herself that what he wanted, what they both wanted, could not exist on Voyager, but it was hard to remember that standing too close to him in the doorway of her quarters the evening before, wondering for one terrifying moment if he was going to kiss her goodnight. He hadn't, of course he hadn't, would never have crossed that line without her permission—but she had felt a tingling in the soles of her feet, an almost overwhelming urge to push up on her tiptoes, and that scared her more than the Borg and the Hirogen put together. The adrenaline had left her shaky for hours afterward, until she finally tumbled into bed to grapple with restless dreams.

He was inside of her now, and she didn't know how to get him out. But what was worse, she wasn't sure she wanted to. She couldn't regret staying with him that night, letting him wrap his arms around her, because it was what they'd needed to piece themselves back together, and she had known going in that she wouldn't let it go too far—but what she hadn't realized was how that one brush with comfort and security would haunt her, that she would lie awake longing for the warmth of him next to her, the weight of his fingers in her hair, the soft rustle of his breathing breaking the silence of the fleeting stars. She'd always dreamed of that, somewhat. But it was worse now. Now she knew what she was missing.

And that was what left her stalled on Somak's doorstep, her conscience too torn to dive in. She knew all the arguments in favor of distance in command, and remembered the treatise well enough to know there was no convenient allowance for starship captains stranded at the far end of the galaxy with their implausibly attentive and available first officers. But she also knew that if she picked up that PADD and finally read past the ominous first sentence, there was every chance that the stiff dictates of protocol would ring so hollow, out here in the undiscovered country, that she'd be knocking on his door ten minutes later.

Apparently he'd beaten her to it.

Kathryn jumped as the chime rang out, automatically tugging imaginary wrinkles out of her jacket. They didn't have a standing engagement, but that didn't matter—there was only one person who ever came calling this early. She crossed the room in her light blue socks, worrying her still damp hair. Logically, she knew he wouldn't be able to hear her most private thoughts just by stepping into the room, but the suddenness of his arrival made her anxious all the same, and her stomach twisted as she pressed the button to open the door. Her nerves evaporated in the face of his smile, replaced by a warm feeling she didn't want to think about standing this close to him.

"Captain."

In spite of herself, she couldn't suppress a smile, resisting the urge to brush his shoulder as she motioned him inside. "Not this week. Don't remind me, Chakotay." She was glad to see he was in his uniform, too; it saved her worrying about whether to change. She waved an idle hand at the replicator. "I'd offer you something, but I'm afraid we're having an uprising this morning."

Chakotay's eyes slid past the console to settle on the jumble of tools she'd forgotten on the bathroom floor. "So that's what the commotion was about."

Kathryn froze, chagrined. "You heard that?"

"Just the banging. Not the cursing that doubtless came with it." He tried to keep a straight face, but the smile was already winning, tugging at his dimples until she had to look away. "I'm glad that's what you were up to. I was worried the cabin fever had finally gotten the better of you and I'd come over to find you'd trashed the place."

Kathryn leaned back against one of her dining room chairs, absently massaging her temples. "I'll admit, I've never been closer to it. I'm all for a vacation, Chakotay—I just wish I had somewhere to go. I tried to visit the bridge yesterday, just as an observer, and Tuvok all but had me marched out by Security." Chakotay raised an eyebrow, asking without words what she'd done to provoke this reaction from their unfailingly logical tactical officer, and as she always did she found herself giving in, relaxing into the glow of his attention and the humor in his dark eyes. "I made the mistake of telling Ensign Parsons he was doing fine. Tuvok accused me of undermining his authority."

Chakotay took a step forward, leaned his hip against the table beside her. "You weren't undermining him, were you?" he asked seriously.

Kathryn couldn't help her laugh. "Maybe, just a little." She watched him laugh along with her and wondered when they'd gotten so close again, practically shoulder to shoulder. Sometimes the way they moved together reminded her of the thesis proposal of her freshman roommate, a haggard, antisocial Ankaran girl who'd been determined to prove all physical attraction was just the result of magnetics, atoms reversing current until their needles aligned, hearts spinning without will like riders on a carousel. She remained skeptical of the science, but she thought she understood, finally, where D'Nayun had gotten her ideas.

She had been staring at him too long. Her gaze jerked suddenly to her feet, feeling strangely vulnerable without her shoes. If he noticed the stiffening of her spine, he didn't comment, only shifted against the table and took up the conversation in that same calm voice.

"I know what you mean. I tried to lend a hand in Engineering yesterday, but B'Elanna threw me out. Said the last thing she needed with so many incompetents underfoot was me blundering around, making a mess of things and scaring the junior officers."

Kathryn shook her head. "Is it just me, or have we been thoroughly replaced?"

"At least it's only temporary," Chakotay offered, though he couldn't stop himself from adding, "for now."

"Don't start," she warned, surprised to find her hand had risen of its own accord to settle against his shoulder. Maybe she could find a way to pin this on magnetics after all. She thought about pulling back, but she didn't want to make a fuss over such a small thing, not when she had much bigger things to fuss about. "If this whole debacle hadn't been proposed by my senior Vulcan officer, I'd suspect a mutiny in progress," she said, surprised by the amused huff that escaped his lips. Kathryn crooked an eyebrow. "Do you know something I don't, Commander?"

"No," he promised, though there was still something thoughtful in his face, like he was weighing his next words. "But…it has been a long couple months. Seems like it might be nice not to be at the helm for a few days."

"That's what I thought, right up until it was actually happening! I haven't had a chance to be bored in three and a half years, Chakotay—I don't know what to do with myself."

She pushed his shoulder as she said the last, and as they swayed back into each other she wondered how such a gentle collision could send a shockwave right through her, how he made it so easy for her to be this person: someone who could tease him back, laugh without reservation, hover there against him for the long moments when they both pretended it was incidental—someone who could give, who could let him be the wheel that turned her. Someone who was enthralled by him. She had never expected to be that person out here, among the nameless stars.

He was looking at her in that quiet way he had, like he could see all her thoughts racing across her face. She hoped that was just paranoia on her part.

"Well," he said at last, pushing away from the table, "I suggest you start small. Join me for breakfast? A real breakfast," he added before she could say anything, "not a cup of coffee as you're rushing out the door."

Kathryn wasn't sure why she had to catch her breath just to answer him. "That sounds lovely," she said, and watched his face light up, surprised again how happy just saying yes made him. She couldn't remember anyone else ever being so thrilled by her company. It made her want to oblige him all the time, as impossible as she knew that to be. But maybe, for just a few days here, she could hesitate before saying no. Maybe she owed it to herself to peer down the road he was offering to walk with her before she and Somak slammed the door. Even if nothing could come of it, she couldn't silence the part of her that begged for the chance to lie next to him just one more time. She could find sanctuary in that.

Chakotay held out his arm, and without thinking Kathryn looped hers through it, smiling because he was. She didn't realize until they stepped into the corridor that she was still in her socks.

All the replicators on Deck 7 had been acting up that morning. It would have been no trouble for Samantha—she had never been a picky eater—but recently she couldn't say the same of her daughter, and that meant a quick trip to the mess hall before Naomi woke up. Neelix had been so understanding, as he always was, and agreed to whip up a stack of banana pancakes for the two of them, one of his new favorite recipes. They didn't taste exactly like pancakes as Samantha remembered them, but they were good in their own way. She thought it might have been all the love that went into them.

As she stood at the counter, listening to Neelix hum over a blackened skillet, she let her eyes flit absently around the room until they settled on two figures in command red framed against the stars of the far window. Samantha smiled. She hadn't seen much of the captain the last few days, busy running the science station on the bridge and watching some of the younger officers struggle through tactical procedures. She was glad to see the two of them spending their time off together. It was none of her business, but she'd worried a little what the single-minded Captain Janeway would do with six days to herself.

Commander Chakotay said something and the captain laughed, and through the gap between their shoulders Samantha watched his hand inch toward hers across the table, just close enough for their fingertips to brush. Samantha's smile turned a little sad. Watching them made her miss her husband, who was such a kind man and would have been so delighted to be a father, and made her wonder too what it was about the Delta Quadrant that made people feel they had to be so alone. She had watched this dance between them a hundred times, knew exactly the point at which the captain would pull back and leave him hanging.

Only this time she didn't. Samantha blinked a few times as the commander's large hand slid over Captain Janeway's and then stayed there, cupping the ridge of her knuckles. The captain was turned away from her, but Samantha could tell she was smiling by the relaxed line of her shoulders against the back of the chair, the small, throaty laugh she caught through the din of the mess hall. Samantha felt herself relaxing, too. When she turned back to accept two plates of pancakes from Neelix, generously topped with bananas and caramel nectar, she shot him a wink, though his expression told her he hadn't seen what she had. Then she headed for the mess hall doors, sneaking one more glance over her shoulder and wondering, for the first time since their journey began, if even in the Delta Quadrant love had a way of getting its way.