Lifted

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager, its characters, etc. belong to Paramount.

The room was still except for the sound of his breathing. He lay cradled in her arms as she watched him sleep and tried to steady herself through the onslaught of love that threatened to overwhelm her. He was beautiful. Perfect.

And finally hers.

She reached out a trembling finger to brush a wisp of raven hair from his forehead, feeling the softness of his skin beneath her touch. He stirred slightly, half-opening his deep chocolate eyes, and nestling closer into her embrace. She smiled down at him, then closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, drawing in the intoxicating scent of him. She never tired of being with him, and her only regrets were that their days spent together passed too swiftly.

Two years ago, when Voyager first came home, she never would have imagined herself to have come to this point. To have found the peace—and the peace of mind—that had seemed so elusive throughout her life. She had been broken-hearted, a wandering soul cut loose from the ties that had bound her life so fully for seven years in the Delta Quadrant. No longer the captain, no longer the mother to that brave, loyal, steadfast family. She thought she would gradually be eclipsed by the emptiness until nothing was left but a shadow of the woman known as Kathryn Janeway.

The door to the room slid open silently, and a tall, broad-shouldered man entered, his eyes locked onto the two figures nestled in the rocking chair that he had built. As he made his way across the room, she looked up into the same raven hair and chocolate eyes that graced the infant held so tenderly in her arms. He leaned down and brushed her cheek and then the baby's with his lips. She smiled and rested her head against him. No words needed to be spoken.

And all her burdens had been lifted.