AN: I really wanted to just try my hand a little something "off-Voyager." I wasn't sure what I wanted to do, and I didn't have any prompts, so this is what I came up with. It's just a little one shot for entertainment value only.

I own nothing from Star Trek Voyager.

If you decide to read, I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

1111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

Chakotay tucked the box of chocolate covered marshmallow candies under his arm and shifted the dozen pink roses in his hand as he reached for the front door of the house and disengaged the lock just after the transporter materialized him right outside the threshold of the door. Before he opened the door, he took half a moment to steady himself.

There was, really, no telling what he would find just inside, but he was prepared for anything. He could tolerate anything. He could overcome it. He knew that. He was confident in himself and in his abilities.

For Kathryn Janeway, he could conquer anything in any of the four quadrants—the thing that he feared, most of all, honestly, was Kathryn herself.

He passed through the kitchen. She wasn't in there. There was no evidence that she'd been cooking, and the room was spotless. He passed through the living room, expecting that he might find her relaxing on the couch or working on something from the Academy. He opened the glass door to the deck and looked in one direction and another, but there was nothing outside except nature and the rolling green land that surrounded their home in the country.

Chakotay engaged the lock on the glass door again, and he did his best to ignore the fact that her seeming absence made his pulse kick up to unnatural levels.

Was it possible that something had happened and he hadn't been notified? Had they been unable to reach him when he'd made a few stops on the way there?

He did his best to control his concern. He started toward the bedroom, moving faster than he normally would down the hallway, and he hoped that he'd find her there. His fast movements, in the hallway, were the primary reason that he nearly collided with her, head-on, as she came out of the bathroom.

As soon as Chakotay registered her presence, he stepped to the side quickly—too quickly—and he bumped into the wall. She gasped in surprise, and clutched her chest as she reached for the opposite wall as a means of support.

"Spirits—you scared me, Kathryn!" Chakotay barked.

"Me?!" Kathryn responded. "You nearly ran over me!"

"I didn't know where you were," Chakotay said, feeling himself relax. "I was getting worried."

Kathryn sighed.

"I was in the bathroom, Chakotay," she said. "The place where I live now. It almost isn't worth even leaving it. By the time I get to the living room and get comfortable, it's time to start working my way back to the bathroom."

Chakotay laughed to himself. He was relieved that she was fine and accounted for. Her mood, at the moment, seemed somewhat steady. That was more than he could say most of the time—at least lately. He handed over the flowers, first. She took them and smiled to herself.

"You brought me flowers?" She asked. It was rhetorical, but Chakotay nodded. "Why?" She asked, smelling the roses.

"For that reason," Chakotay said. "Because they make you smile, and I love to see you smile. Come on, Kathryn. Let's go sit for a while. Enjoy each other's company."

"I've been sitting all day," Kathryn said mournfully.

"Would you rather walk?" Chakotay asked. "We could go for a stroll around the field? Get some fresh air and a little light exercise."

Kathryn perked up, for a moment, but immediately her smile fell.

"You just got home from work," she said. "You'll be tired. You need to eat something."

Chakotay smiled at her.

"A little walk won't hurt me," he said. "And it might be good for you. Give me your roses. I'll put them in water while you get your shoes on."

"Are those chocomars?" Kathryn asked.

Chakotay smiled and waved the box at her.

"You said you had a craving," he said.

"Oh—they're just not the same out of the replicator," Kathryn said.

"I know," Chakotay said. "The marshmallow's too dense. I was listening to your lecture to the replicator at three in the morning."

Her bottom lip just barely rolled out in an almost imperceptible pout. She was upset with herself, and Chakotay didn't want that.

"You should have been sleeping. I shouldn't have kept you up. I'll sleep in the guest room tonight,"

Chakotay laughed to himself.

"If you're sleeping in the guest room, I'm sleeping in the guest room, Kathryn," Chakotay said. "Go get your shoes on. I'll put the flowers in water and you can have the chocomars whenever you want them."

Chakotay gave her time to get her shoes on—something that was almost a monumental task these days, but something she insisted on doing without his help—and he took care of the roses. When she met him at the back door, he opened the door for her and stepped out on the deck with her. They often walked in the field behind their house and enjoyed nature together.

The choice to move from the big city to the countryside had come not two months after their discovery that they were expecting a little one. They'd been married only about six months when Kathryn's doctor had confirmed that she was two months pregnant. They'd only been off Voyager for about eight months at the time.

The house in the country would allow them some quiet, they decided. It would give them some sense of normalcy—some way to pretend that everything in their lives didn't revolve around Starfleet. The commute was easy, and they could transport as needed to work and back. Chakotay enjoyed the opportunity to connect with nature, and Kathryn appreciated the reminders of her youth in Indiana. It would be the perfect place to grow their family.

At the moment, though, they were dealing with a particularly stubborn addition to their family—one that was turning their worlds upside down and, surely, would do even more damage in the years to come—and they couldn't be happier about all of it, at least most of the time.

Chakotay kept his hand either on Kathryn's lower back or hovering close to it as they walked. She stayed a half step in front of him. They were moving slowly, but there was no rush to be anywhere. This wasn't a fast walk to get to the bridge and solve a crisis. This was a slow walk that was meant to simply provide them with a little fresh air and exercise.

"Walking is good for her," Chakotay said.

"That's what they say," Kathryn responded. "I did a half an hour of those exercises with the ball. The ones that are supposed to—open up my hips or whatever? I hated every minute of it."

Chakotay laughed to himself.

"Nothing?" He asked.

"I think I'm calling the Academy tomorrow," Kathryn said, "and I'm telling them that—it's better not to connect with my students through the teleclasses. I'll start giving my lectures again, on Monday, in person. I'm using all my leave, Chakotay, and I never know when I'm going to really need it. I'm just wasting time here."

"They're not taking your leave because you're working remotely," Chakotay said. "Remember?"

"I'm more effective in person," Kathryn said.

"I don't doubt that," Chakotay ceded. "But I think you're missing the point that you're giving your lectures remotely to lessen the stress and strain on your body. And I hope you're not forgetting, too, that we have a little someone who's set to be joining us any day now."

Kathryn stopped her forward progress. She turned around and faced Chakotay. She ran her hand over the swell of her stomach—a swell that, by all standards, was pretty remarkable. Chakotay saw her chin quiver, just for a second, and then she steeled herself again. The hormones were all but drowning her, and he knew that. He was content to tread easily.

"I think we have to accept the facts, Chakotay," Kathryn said.

"Which are?" Chakotay asked.

"She is six days old, Chakotay. Today. Six," Kathryn said. She frowned again and shook her head. "And she's never—she's just never coming out. And, so, I might as well go back to work. I have to get back to my life. I can't just sit around waiting for something that's never going to happen. Soon—we'll all be up for reassignment. After the semester's ended and we've all got the choice of…taking leave or taking an assignment. I'm going to have to make a choice. And I think it's simply better if I just adjust to the fact that I'm going to be pregnant forever, and I can't put my life on hold for that any longer."

Chakotay laughed to himself. He pressed his hand over her belly. He could feel the stubborn child just below the surface—she was close enough that he could watch her acrobatics at night while Kathryn reclined in bed next to him. He leaned and kissed Kathryn, happy that she returned the affection.

"Listen to me," he said, "she is a little overdue."

"Six days," Kathryn said. He nodded.

"She is six days overdue. Your doctor said that some women have babies early with their first pregnancy, and some women can have them late. He said you may go as late as two weeks, Kathryn. As long as she's healthy, and you're healthy? We're going to let this go until she's ready to come."

"She's never coming," Kathryn said. "We'll be reassigned before she comes." Suddenly, her eyes went wide. "Chakotay—what are we going to do? They're going to expect me to stay here, stuck behind some desk, and they're going to give you your own ship. Who knows where you'll be sent? You'll be on a deep space mission and—I'm never going to sleep again thinking that you're going to end up in the Delta Quadrant again and I'm never going to see you again. You'll never see her because you'll be reassigned before she's born."

Chakotay laughed to himself. He leaned and brushed his cheek against Kathryn's belly. The baby rolled and he felt her movements.

"Do you hear what you're doing to your father, Shayaway?" Chakotay asked, addressing the child with the term of endearment his people used to say "my baby." "And to your beautiful, wonderful, slightly neurotic mother? It's time to stop playing, we need you to come and see us, now."

"Neurotic?" Kathryn asked, when he'd straightened up. The touch of humor on her features told him that there was no threat of real trouble.

"I am very proud of you," Chakotay said. "And you're doing better than most new mothers would when their awayyazhi is six days late to make her debut in the world. She's coming, though, Kathryn. And she's coming soon. Long before we're reassigned.

Kathryn started walking again, either satisfied or either simply feeling restless.

"I'm worried about you leaving, Chakotay," Kathryn said. "We know how easy it is for something to happen. Better than anyone, now."

"That's life in Starfleet, right? The perils of being a captain? I thought you accepted that?"

"I did," Kathryn said. "Until I had a husband and an awayyazhi to think about. Now? The thought of being lost in the Delta Quadrant doesn't frighten me, Chakotay. But the thought of being anywhere, without you? It's more terrifying than anything I've ever faced before."

Chakotay could tell that it had all sunk in for her—in that moment—in a very real way. Everything else had been conversations that they had where words were tossed around and things were imagined. It wasn't until just then, though, that Kathryn had truly faced the grave reality of how things could be. Chakotay caught her shoulder, turned her around, and pulled her to him. He kissed her forehead and hugged her against him, rocking her as they stood in the tall grass.

"You'll request to be reassigned as a captain, just as I've always known you probably would. I will request a position as your first officer, Kathryn," Chakotay said. "I know you well enough to know that—Starfleet will always be life for us. This place? It'll be where we stay in between assignments. Our children will grow up on starships. And I accept that. But—I promise you this. We'll never let them assign us to separate ships."

Kathryn pulled away.

"You don't want to be my first officer forever, Chakotay," Kathryn said. "I could be yours…"

Chakotay rubbed his thumb across her face.

"Perhaps," he ceded. "Someday. I don't know that it would seem right, though. I think—you'll always be my captain. We don't have to decide it tonight, Kathryn. We've got other things to worry about."

"Such as?" Kathryn asked, cocking her eyebrow at him.

"We have an awayyazhi to talk out of her warm, safe little home," Chakotay said. "Come on. We'll replicate something nice for dinner. You can have your chocomars, and I'll rub your feet. And we'll focus on talking her out."

"You have some—trick of your people in mind?" Kathryn asked.

Chakotay smiled to himself.

"I believe it's a trick that may have even been around longer than my people," he said, practically pushing her back toward the house. "You see—what I've heard is that we can use the same techniques that we used to create our little one to coax her out of her warm little nest."

"You think that's really going to work?" Kathryn asked with a laugh.

"I know that, even if it doesn't, there are certainly worse ways we could spend an evening."

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

AN: "Awayyazhi" is a misspelling of the Navajo word for "little baby" and "Shayaway" is a misspelling of the word for "my baby." Since we don't know who Chakotay's "people" are, I used their words and changed the spellings for this story.