Author's notes:

- I want to thank marcygoomen for her huge contribution. She beta-ed the story (and then I rewrote parts of it, so the mistakes are all mine). But that's not all. She also read the chapters and gave me feedback as I wrote them, and she even got me out of jams by listening to my ideas, sharing some of hers and generally helping with characterization. (OK, so she also kept sending blingees of Bajoran!Chakotay to my phone at random, to scare me into finishing the fic. But I'm not thanking her for that. NO. =P)

- Definitely M, just not to MA.

- Minor angst, major fluff (as usual).

26 Years

Prologue

Chakotay felt the slightest pressure on his lips, but it didn't last long enough to fully awaken him. A few seconds later, he felt it again. This time, he also registered that there was a depression on the bed, to his left. Finally, after yet another touch, he realized there was a familiar scent in the room.

Kathryn...

He was dreaming about her again, and she was sucking on his lower lip.

One of his hands went to her neck and held her close, so he could kiss her back. The other hand traveled down her right arm until it reached her waist. He realized she was sitting on his bed.

He often dreamed about her. For the most part, those dreams weren't so different from what the two of them had been doing during the day. He'd dream they were discussing the crew in her Ready Room or going on dangerous away missions. But sometimes, not often enough, his dreams were a lot more satisfying. And the one he was having then was particularly good, mainly because it felt very real. He could distinctively feel the material of her uniform under the fingers that were clasping her waist. Her tongue was warm, and he tasted coffee as he slowly stroked it with his.

She was already half-bent. It was easy enough to just pull her and move so that he had her underneath him.

"Honey," she whispered in his ear, catching her breath, "we can't do this now."

He opened his eyes to look at the chronometer, and he was surprised by what he saw. She was different in this dream. This Kathryn was many years older, and she had short, white hair. She was smiling, amused by the puzzled look on his face.

"Otherwise you'll be late for your shift. I won't have that, Commander," she added, in a tone that was nothing if not inviting, which so contradicted her words.

Chakotay expected to wake up at any moment. Just another minute, he thought, as if he could bargain with his subconscious. He wanted to be near her like that for a bit longer.

"You're beautiful," he said, running his fingers through her short hair to know how it felt.

"Flattery won't get you anywhere, Commander," she said. "Don't make me throw you out of the bed."

Chakotay frowned. Something wasn't right. His dreams were not usually that vivid, nor were they so detailed. It didn't make sense to him.

Kathryn noticed the confusion on his face and stroked his brow, running her fingers along the lines of his tattoo as she'd done so many times before.

"What is it, Chakotay?" she asked, softly. "Did I wake you up from a dream?"

Still clutching her hand, he sat up on the bed. She moved to a sitting position as well, and brought his fingers to her lips.

"Was it about me?" she asked, kissing his knuckles, one by one.

Something was definitely not right! That didn't feel like a dream to him at all, and he wasn't waking up. He remembered having dinner with her the previous night, in her quarters. He remembered telling her all about the away mission from which he had just returned. And, once they had said goodnight, he'd just walked back to his quarters and read for some time until he fell asleep.

But they weren't in his quarters then, they were in hers. Still, he recognized some of his objects there. His eyes went back to her and he saw that she looked worried. Kathryn searched his face, squeezing his hand in hers.

It was then that he noticed something odd about his hands. Hurriedly, he got out of bed and walked into the bathroom. In the mirror, he could see he was older as well. His hair was completely gray and there were many lines on his face that he didn't recognize. Slowly, he walked back to the room.

"Kathryn?" he said, very calmly, "What year is this?"

She had been a Starfleet Officer long enough to take that question very seriously. With a very stern face that in no way matched the rush of her thoughts, she replied.

"2404."

=/\=