Author's Note: I wish I could claim the idea for the verb tense usage in this story, but I can't. It's based on Judy Blume's book, Summer Sisters. It's harder to write than it appears, and I just hope I've done the idea the justice it deserves.

Star Trek and Star Trek: Voyager are the copyrighted property of CBS Studios, Inc. This fiction item is intended for entertainment purposes only. No compensation has been received or will be accepted for it, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended or should be implied.

The Dance

It begins over dinner one night while they are reviewing recent activity reports. They are in her quarters, enjoying the lingering smell of the roses she received during their last away mission. She is amused by one of the details of his recent 'date' with a member of Species 8472. "You went dancing? I didn't know you danced."

"You've never asked me," Chakotay replies easily, smiling, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

This causes her to chuckle. "You're right. After four-and-a-half years, you'd think you know the people you live and work with, but sometimes they surprise you." She pauses. "My goodness, now that I think about it, I haven't danced in years."

He is startled at her statement, and reminds her of the ballet routines she does whenever Neelix organizes a talent night. He thinks about, but doesn't mention, the time he came upon her teaching Seven of Nine basic steps in the holodeck.

But Kathryn shakes her head. "That's not what I mean. I was talking about socially, with a partner. I haven't done that since..." she trails off, thinking, and a small frown appears on her face. "Since a few nights after Voyager was commissioned, before we left for the Badlands." She shakes her head again, and the frown subsides but does not quite go away. "A long time ago."

The mood has turned faintly somber. "Some people might say that's too long," he observes.

She shrugs and turns back to the activity reports. "It doesn't really matter. I've probably forgotten how."

"I doubt it." He is keenly feeling the loss of the cheerful mood from only a few minutes earlier, and wants to try and regain it. "Do you want to try?"

"What?" Her expression changes when she realizes what he means. "Now?"

"Why not?" He stands up and offers her a hand, instructing the computer to play the instrumental version of a tune that was popular around the time she went through Starfleet Academy, a few years before him. "Unless you'd rather read reports all night."

"They do need to be finished, but..." she stands and takes his hand. An oddly wistful expression crosses her face. "I suppose I could stand a break."

As might be suspected, she is a good dancer, responding to his lead with the ease one might expect only after two partners have become accustomed to one another. Her hand is warm in his, and he is startled to notice that she is almost the right height to fit perfectly against his shoulder.

They don't speak during the song, but when it finishes there is a genuine smile on her face. She reaches up to touch his face before they sit down. "You're a good dancer."

He responds by laughing softly. "I was just thinking the same thing about you."

Her hand briefly caresses his cheek, a feather kissing its way across the skin, before she breaks contact and steps away from him. "This was a good idea. Thank you."

"Thank you. Maybe we should do it again sometime."

She is already sitting down, turning back to the reports spread across the table, but she looks up to meet his eyes. "Maybe we should."

He can't decipher the expression on her face, but he knows that some ache within her has been soothed, and he is glad he was able to help. Another barrier between them has fallen. He likes it that way. Her burden is a heavy one, and so often she insists on trying to bear it alone.

They dance again several weeks later. Again, it is in her quarters after dinner. She has been preoccupied lately, worried about rumors concerning the Devore Imperium, whose space they are approaching. Still, Kathryn is the one who initiates it, stretching in her chair after they finish dessert and considering him with an enigmatic expression.

"We've had a busy few weeks," she says. "Quite a bit going on."

He nods agreement, wondering where she plans to go with this line of conversation.

"These Devore," she muses. "It doesn't sound like we're going to get any sort of a break until we're through their space. Do you think it would be good to have Neelix arrange something special to boost morale in the next few days, before we come into contact?"

Crew morale has seemed to be all right during the last few weeks, and he says so. It might be asking too much to arrange something on such short notice. "I think we'll be all right for a little while."

The slumping of her shoulders is so slight that he would have missed it if he hadn't been looking directly at her. In that moment, he understands, and Chakotay reaches across the table to wrap his hand around hers. "How about the captain's morale? Do you think she might need something to cheer her up a little?"

She smiles, but the expression doesn't quite reach her eyes. "She might, but she'd hate to take advantage of anyone just for the sake of her bad mood."

He remembers the time he told the senior staff about her crazy idea to take a shuttle into the spatial vortex and stop the Malons. No one hesitated or asked what to do; they'd just agreed that she simply wouldn't be allowed to carry out the plan. He wouldn't have been a good first officer, he'd told her then, if he hadn't expressed his concerns.

He offers her a smile of his own and orders the computer to change the music to a slow jazz piece. "I wouldn't be a good first officer if I didn't offer to help. And it isn't too much to ask. Would you like to dance? Would that help a little?"

A voiceless laugh escapes her. "You know, I think it might."

She startles him by kicking off her boots first, explaining that the heels' medium height feels wrong to her when she dances. Years of ballet have left her comfortable dancing either flat-footed or on her toes, but not anywhere in between. She's learned to walk, to run, to even climb and still be comfortable in the Starfleet-issue boots, but she has never quite managed to learn to dance comfortably in them.

He chuckles at the revelation and draws her to him, settling a hand on her waist. She isn't much shorter than before, but the difference is just enough to now make her that perfect height to fit against his shoulder. He is a little disturbed by this but says nothing about it. He is even more bothered when he realizes they are dancing closer than they had before. This isn't what he had in mind; he simply wanted to offer support.

They dance through two songs this time, and by the end of the second one she is smiling, eyes closed, and trying to hum softly with the music. He is surprised to learn that even though she loves music, she can't carry a tune. It is amusing that he has known her for more than four years, but is only now learning this about her.

She steps back and opens her eyes. "What's so funny?"

He unsuccessfully tries to hide the smile. "I was just remembering something you said to me a few weeks back. About thinking you knew someone after spending four-and-a-half years working and living with them, but that they can still surprise you."

She briefly appears confused, but then understands what he is talking about and touches her throat. "One of my best-kept secrets."

His eyes dance with ill-concealed mirth. "No one will ever hear it from me."

Now she laughs and though it is slightly self-deprecating it is a real laugh, reaching her eyes. It is clear that her mood is considerably improved. "Now you know why I regret never having learned to play a musical instrument."

"It's all right," he answers. "You make up for it by dancing well."

"I had a good partner." She touches his face again, as she did the last time they danced. "Thank you. I appreciate your being willing to cheer me up."

He wonders if he should tell her that it was a pleasure, that he enjoys dancing with her and is glad to be able to put a smile on her face. She is beautiful when she smiles.

They don't dance in her quarters every time they have dinner together, but now and then it seems like the right thing to do. Sometimes it is a simple slow dance and sometimes one or the other of them decides to try something more complex.

One night he tells her that he enjoys dancing with her, that she's one of the best dance partners he's ever had, and it brings a smile to her face. A few moments later, with a sideways look, she admits that she enjoys dancing with him too.

She always kicks her boots off and dances in her stockings, fitting perfectly against his shoulder. She also tries not to hum too loudly. It becomes a private joke.

The dances are an unspoken point of warmth between them.

During the three weeks immediately after their encounter with the Equinox, they don't have dinner together. Though the breach between them has been sealed, it takes time to become comfortable again. It is the prehensile plant that finally reconnects them.

He can't resist the opportunity to tease when Tuvok comes into the ready room to express concern about the number of people aboard Voyager. A minute later, Chakotay hears a rustle of foliage and a frustrated noise. "It's got me by the hair!"

Smiling, he walks over and reaches behind Kathryn's head to unwind the vines. Her hands rise to his shoulders, and he finds himself caught in her gaze. His hands drop to her waist. "What is it?"

A wistful expression crosses her face. "It's almost like we're dancing."

Impulsively, he leads her in a short two-step halfway across the ready room. She willingly follows, smiling in a way he hasn't seen in weeks. When they come to a stop, she laughs, and he asks what she finds so amusing.

"I don't believe we've ever danced anywhere but my quarters," she answers.

With a start, he realizes that she is right. Despite the fact that he's escorted her to any number of shipboard functions and celebrations, including some that involved dancing, they've never actually danced together outside her quarters. Somehow, it has never seemed appropriate. He wonders why.

Her expression becomes wistful again. "I've missed this. I've missed seeing you in a good mood."

His arms remain at her waist and hers stay on his shoulders. Despite the light mood, a serious moment briefly passes between them. "I've missed you too," he admits. He does not say that he has missed her more than he'd thought he would.

One of her hands moves to touch his face in a familiar gesture. "Will you have dinner with me tonight, after we go off duty?"

"On one condition."

She smiles hopefully. "That we dance afterward?"

He smiles back, nods, and twirls her around one last time. His arms feel strangely empty after they step back from each other, and he notices that she folds her hands together, tightly, as if she can't quite figure out what to do with them. That image, her fingers twining together like the vines of the prehensile plant, remains with him for the rest of the afternoon.

For some reason, the fact that they don't dance outside her quarters doesn't come back up. But now that he's paying attention, he realizes that she doesn't dance outside her quarters, period. He is honored that she allows him to see that aspect of her, and in his mind it becomes something they share only between themselves, a barrier that is relaxed in private but never in public. And never with anyone else.

He is in Fair Haven one night, coming from the Ox and Lamb, when he hears loud music at Sullivan's. There is a rhythmic tapping to the music and after a moment he identifies the sound as dancing feet. Though he has avoided this place, not wanting to make Kathryn uncomfortable, he feels drawn to the door.

It is a jig and at first he cannot discern individual faces. As his eyes adjust to the light, however, he sees several crewmembers among the crowd. They are clearly enjoying themselves. One comes up to him and invites him to dance, but he declines, preferring to watch instead. He thinks they may try these steps the next time they dance in her quarters.

The jig segues into a slower dance, and a woman with reddish brown hair swings by. It is pulled into a bun and he abruptly recognizes the style. And the person wearing it.

She is there in Sullivan's, dancing.

He tells himself he only wants her to be happy, and reminds himself how thrilled he was to see her smiling on the bridge. It truly is good to see her in the high spirits she has had over the past few days. Though they are good friends and dancing partners, it was never more than that, and he shouldn't expect her to avoid dancing with someone else, particularly when she has met someone...special.

The dancers twirl around again, and though he tries to avoid it, their eyes meet.

There is no denying the sudden awkward look on her face, and he feels guilty for causing her any sort of discomfort. He truly does only want to see her happy. Moving quickly, Chakotay slips out the door and back into the street.

Though the Fair Haven program is continued following the fiasco with the doctor's holo-emitter, it declines in popularity. Eventually, they begin having dinner in her quarters again, and the long conversations that he so enjoys gradually resume.

But they no longer dance after dessert.

Tom and B'Elanna surprise everyone when they return from racing the Delta Flyer and ask to be married right away. Kathryn performs the ceremony in her ready room after calling Chakotay and Harry in to stand as witnesses, and the couple leaves a few hours later for a three-day honeymoon. Somehow, word spreads before they depart and someone decorates the outside of the Flyer.

Though the wedding is sudden, there is ample time to prepare for a reception. Since it is planned as a final event in the post-race festivities, it's important that they both make an appearance. They walk to the holodeck together. She still occasionally stops to shake her head in sheer incredulity over the events surrounding the race.

"You'd think you would know people after six years of living and working with them, but they can still surprise you," she mutters when he questions her.

He laughs, remembering the first time they'd exchanged that idea. Despite her griping, she is clearly in a good mood. The race has in fact been an ideal morale booster for the entire ship. Spirits are high, and the reception is in full swing when they arrive.

Neelix is clearly in his element and his greetings are effusive. They are guided to seats across from one another at a long table covered with the traditional white cloth. Smiles and laughter, jokes and good humor surround the toasts and traditional cutting of the wedding cake. After the good wishes are given, the party moves out into an area cleared for dancing and Tom leads B'Elanna into the first dance.

Chakotay hears a voice beside him. It is one of their guests. "Among your people, is it traditional for only the marrying couple to dance at their wedding reception, or do others join them?"

"Others dance," he explains. "Traditionally, the best man and the maid of honor are paired during the first song."

An expression of discomfort appears on Harry's face.

Kathryn, standing nearby, indulges in a chuckle.

"Of course," he continues, maintaining a neutral expression, "sometimes traditions have to be adjusted to fit individual circumstances."

This elicits a smile of understanding from the visitor and a look of abject relief from Harry. He comes over, face breaking out in a smile. "I think you should dance with Captain Janeway, since she was the only other person in the wedding."

Given his explanations about traditions, there is no gracious way for either of them to avoid the suggestion, and he leads her out to the dance area. After a moment, several other couples join them. Eyes follow them at first but eventually turn elsewhere.

It has been nearly a year since they have danced together, and for the first time he can ever remember, it feels awkward. She is apparently thinking similar thoughts. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Yes." He is careful not to draw her too close. It occurs to him that she is wearing boots.

Her reply is soft and he isn't sure he hears her correctly amid the noise of the crowd. "You could say that it's been too long."

Later, she dances with the groom. It is a faster song and they are going through the steps of a dance that was popular around the time Voyager was thrown into the Delta Quadrant. They are complicated, but she is able to keep up. Tom appears surprised and delighted that she knows the right moves, even though the music is closer to his preferences than to hers. Chakotay watches them. He is also delighted, but he is not surprised.

The music ends and, with a final twirl and a laugh, they step apart. The next piece is slower and, as is appropriate, Tom seeks out his bride. Kathryn looks around the dancing area and their eyes meet. He offers her a smile. He has enjoyed watching them dance. She returns the smile, tilting her head a little, and spreads her hands slightly. He accepts the invitation and this time it is not awkward.

They have dinner in her quarters again a few nights later. She is wearing her uniform turtleneck tonight, but not her jacket, which instead is neatly folded over a chair. After dessert he decides to bring the reception up. "I enjoyed dancing with you the other night."

She briefly meets his eyes. "So did I."

He chooses his words carefully. He does not want to bring up uncomfortable topics. "I miss the way we used to dance here."

One of her eyebrows raises slightly. "Are you asking me to dance? Now?"

He laughs but it is not easy. "I suppose I am."

She makes no verbal reply but her right hand slips under the table. The movement of her shoulder suggests she is jerking on something. After a moment he realizes she is removing her boots. The next laugh is easier, and he instructs the computer to play a piece of popular music from their last data-stream transmission.

They don't exchange any words as they begin dancing and it is almost as if the yearlong pause in this tradition never happened. His hands seek her waist, following long habit, and hers rest on his shoulders as they often have before. But something changes as the music continues. They are dancing closer than they ever have before and when she lays her head against his shoulder he is only slightly surprised. She fits perfectly.

Of its own accord, one of his hands slides part way up her back and pulls her against him so that their upper bodies press together in an embrace. One of hers moves to his chest and remains there, her fingers absently tracing circles on his jacket. Nothing has ever felt so good or so right. Their feet have stopped moving and now they are simply swaying together in time to the music.

For this moment, Chakotay is aware of nothing else. There is only the sound of the music and the sight and smell and feel of Kathryn in his arms.

When the music ends there is a long period before she lifts her head. Her eyes open and meet his and her lips part slightly. For once her expression is unguarded and he can clearly see the emotions beneath. Her face is close to his and he knows that if he moves to kiss her now she will not pull away.

He has not anticipated the wave of temptation and desire that passes through him. Her body becomes pliant and warm against his and he knows things will not end with just a kiss. It will go further, much further.

Time stretches, and slows, and comes almost to a complete stop.

He realizes he wants to be able to dance with her again after tonight. To enjoy dinner and dessert following another day of working side-by-side as they continue to the Alpha Quadrant. To wake up every morning looking forward to seeing her again.

His hand comes up to cup the side of her face.

But he does not kiss her.

They haven't reached the right time yet.

The music resets and begins to play once more. He draws her hand back up to his shoulder and she closes her eyes. They begin dancing again, and this time they are cheek-to-cheek, but the moment where it might become more has passed. No words pass between them. He is glad of that. He is not sure what he might say.

The crew has done it. They have achieved the impossible. They are in the Alpha Quadrant and tomorrow they will dock at Deep Space Nine. Six years, seven months and four days after leaving for a three-week rescue mission, Voyager will return to her homeport.

Everything will be different then.

The mood on the ship isn't the unbridled euphoria they had once thought it might be but rather it is mixed, almost bittersweet. They do not discuss much while sharing this final dinner in her quarters. It is a quiet, poignant time and after dessert Kathryn seems uncertain, playing with the empty wineglass in front of her. A rueful smile briefly crosses her face.

He reaches out and takes the glass from her hand. "What is it?"

She laughs softly and though it is a real laugh he can hear an undercurrent of what might be pain. "It's strange."

"What's strange?"

She will not meet his eyes. "After all this time, all these years we've lived and worked together...I still don't know how to tell you good-bye."

Chakotay is startled. "Why do we have to say good-bye?"

"No one really knows what's going to happen now. I know what I want, and I intend to fight for it with every bone in my body, but..." she trails off. "What if that's not enough? What if I can't keep this family together?"

"Even if you can't, we'll still see each other again."

"That's true, but we may not be able to say much or have any privacy. I know we won't for the next few weeks at the very least." She pauses and sighs. "Whatever happens, I don't want to lose you without at least saying a proper good-bye."

Her words seem to bore straight into his soul and he closes his hand over hers. She grips it tightly and finally raises her eyes to meet his. They are suspiciously shiny. He does not know what to say or how to begin. He wants to tell her everything, to say all the things he never said before, but there are no words. He will not offer empty phrases of comfort or make promises he may not be able to keep. Not to her.

He startles himself with his next words. "Dance with me."

"What?"

"Will you dance with me?" he asks. "To say good-bye."

Surprise is plain on her face. "Yes."

Pulling her up from the table, he instructs the computer to play a piece of music and leads her into the dance. She does not have time to kick off her boots. They dance for a few moments before she inhales sharply, startling him. "What is it?"

"The song. Do you remember? The very first time we danced, it was to this song."

He remembers. "You wore your boots then too."

"I hadn't danced in years. I thought I might have forgotten how, but it seemed like no time had passed at all." Her voice becomes very soft. "None at all. It was perfect."

They do not speak for the rest of the song. When it ends, there is a genuine smile on her face although it is tinged with sadness. She reaches up to touch his face. "You're a good dancer."

He laughs softly, recalling their words the first time they danced. "I was just thinking the same thing about you."

Her hand briefly caresses his cheek, a feather kissing its way across the skin. But she does not step away immediately this time. "This was a good idea. Thank you."

He will never forget this final night in her quarters, this particular dance after dessert. "Thank you. I hope we'll be able to do it again sometime."

Kathryn looks up to meet his eyes again. "Yes," she says. "We will." In her expression he sees a promise, a vow that this will not be their last dance.

His eyes remain steady on hers as strength and courage rise in his heart. Wordlessly, he echoes the promise and their hands clasp, steady, strong, committed and ready for whatever the future may hold.