Protocols Unknown: A Decision of The Stars

Lines We Cross

Janeway moved. She crossed to the couch and gently set Astrea down. The child, sensing no alarm, shifted to curl against the pillow and held tight to the edge of her mother's jacket. Still and safe.

Then Janeway turned.

Kashyk was still standing.

She stepped toward him, slowly. Not hesitant. Measured.

"Why did you really come, Inspector?" Her voice was quieter now. More dangerous for it.

Kashyk didn't answer right away.

He met her eyes. "Because if I didn't, I'd never forgive myself."

And this time, it wasn't about Astrea.

This time, it was about her and she knew it.

And that's when the door chimed.

Janeway straightened. "Come."

Chakotay entered.

He took in the scene fast: Kashyk standing too close. Astrea nestled tight in Janeway's arms. Kathryn holding her like a living boundary. Unmoved. Unshaken.

He didn't speak.

Kashyk turned slightly toward him, not defensive, not smug.

"She's more than you know," he said.

And the way he said it, careful, reverent, made something deep in Chakotay's chest twist.

Janeway didn't move again. But she felt the ground shift. Again.

Chakotay's eyes lingered on Kashyk, then flicked back to Janeway. "Captain?"

Janeway looked down at Astrea for a moment. Her arms tightened. Then she gently pressed a kiss to the child's temple and whispered something that neither man could hear.

She looked up. "Yes."

The doors slid shut behind Kashyk as he left.

Janeway didn't move. One hand braced on the back of her chair, the other curled protectively around Astrea's small body, holding her close. She hadn't looked at Chakotay directly, not since before any of it started.

After a breath she couldn't quite catch, she crossed the room in a few steady steps and gently set Astrea down on the couch. The child barely stirred, instinctively reaching for the edge of her mother's jacket before settling again into sleep.

Janeway lingered a moment longer, fingers brushing Astrea's hair lightly, then straightened. One hand returned to the chair, the other pressed flat against her side, holding herself together by instinct.

Chakotay didn't leave. He stood still, watching. Waiting.

She exhaled slowly. It didn't help.

"You should get some rest," she said, voice even.

"I'm not tired."

She looked up at last, meeting his gaze.

Memory lived there, the kind that clings to every unsaid word, every half-finished gesture.

Chakotay stepped forward. Slow. Careful. Sure.

"You let him in," he said quietly. "Not just into the room."

Janeway didn't flinch.

"You're right, I did." She paused. "Because the truth scared me more than he did."

He moved closer, close enough to catch the faint scent of Astrea's shampoo on her collar.

"You trust him?"