"It was an unmitigated disaster." Paul sat at his desk, his hand over his eyes, doing his best not to remember the horror show that was his family Christmas. He had no idea how to even explain it to anyone else.

But if there was anyone who would be able to understand, it would be the man on the screen before him. "It couldn't have been that bad," he said as he took a sip of his ice-cold sweet tea.

Paul shot Hank a look. Always the optimist, his former captain couldn't have been more wrong. "My father verbally attacked her because of her past: please, tell me, how that's not bad?"

Hank frowned slightly. "You have me there." He sipped from his tea and looked upwards, his face scrunched up in concentration. He snapped his fingers and flashed a smirk. "You should make New Year's special for her."

Paul stared at him, unsure he heard right. "You did just listen to me?" It was strange, talking to him like this. But the two had come a long way since their return from the Pearl. Being part of a crew from another universe had a way of bringing people together, after all. Hank and he had spoken often since they returned, about many things, but he wasn't sure what Hank's line of thought here was. He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his desk. "I took her to meet my family and it was bad."

"Keep your family out of it," Hank responded without hesitation. "From what I hear, it seems like you two are best together without outside influence." A big grin stretched across his face. "And I have a cabin that's screaming your name."

"A cabin?" Curiosity accentuated Paul's tone. "Where?"

"The Rockies. Beautiful weather this time of year. Not a lot of technology, just the basic necessities and a few board games, but an absolutely perfect place for a quiet weekend." He winked. "Even has a fireplace."

Paul rubbed the back of his neck, unsure whether to accept the offer. It sounded tempting but he really felt he couldn't afford another misstep. "I ruined her Christmas," he said, sighing with regret. He shook his head. "I can't ruin this, too."

"Well, don't." Hank sipped at his tea once more before setting his glass down. "I'm going to send you the location and the security code for the cabin. Should be in fine shape, was just up there a few months ago for some alone time."

"Really?" He tried not to sound desperate but he was pretty sure he did. "I need this to be good ... I feel horrible about Christmas."

Hank smiled at him. "Hey, I'm just giving you the cabin. The rest is up to you."

Paul nodded regretfully. Yes, the rest was up to him and so far he hadn't done a great job. But this was his chance to really make something of it: he couldn't let it go to waste. "Thanks, Hank."

His former captain gave him a slight nod. "Don't mention it."

****

The air was chilly but not biting, a different experience than the last time she traveled north. As Seven waited for Paul to open the door to the cabin, she silently recalled the series of events that led her here. It was not a difficult process, as she had perfect recall, but it was one that left her with one question: why had she agreed to this?

Paul had been adamant that they should enjoy New Year's together, and Seven had agreed to that. But she was not certain if this was the right situation; for the first time in their relationship, relatively new as it was, she found herself comparing Paul to Chakotay. This type of excursion would have been one he would have suggested.

And that bothered her. Up to this point, Paul and Chakotay had operated in different manners. Chakotay was confident in his actions, and Paul, by comparison, was much like herself: his actions betrayed a level of nervousness about their romantic relationship that she felt. His actions lacked confidence but possessed genuine kindness, a quality she greatly admired.

She was not sure if she liked the idea of spending a day and night with him in this cabin. Physically, she would be fine: though she required regeneration, she could go a prolonged period without it. Up to this point, however, the two had never spent a night together. She found herself uneasy about the prospect, especially with Chakotay on her mind.

She spent many nights with the Chakotay hologram, much to her chagrin. At the time, it seemed the prudent action: to further her research and to study Chakotay, she would need to observe his facsimile.

But, in light of her relationship with Paul, she had begun to regret those times with that hologram. It had twisted her view of the real Chakotay, ultimately leading to their breakup. She had spent time with the real Chakotay in similar situations such as this during their brief relationship, but it never matched the standard set by the hologram.

Deep down, she feared she would find out a similar truth here: that, in limited samples, Paul was someone she enjoyed spending time with but, in a longer trial period, she would find his presence lacking. She didn't want to find out, after everything they had been through so far, that the two could not coexist for long periods of time.

But her mind recalled, with perfect clarity, the words of Tom Paris from the night of her first date with Paul.

"... love hurts, Seven. God, it hurts and you get hurt ... and you keep trying again. You go back again and again for that chance, that hope, that you'll find someone you genuinely want to be with and that you genuinely enjoy being with."

Those words were important, more than Tom Paris or anyone knew. Those words had played a role in her decision not to end her date with Paul, but, rather, to continue it.

"There we go!" Paul clapped his hands enthusiastically and opened the door, breaking her chain of thought. He held his arm forward of him. "After you," he said, his face red and his body shivering.

A small smile tugged at her lips and her feelings of doubt, of fear, were momentarily put to rest. "Thank you," she said quietly. She entered into the cabin, travel bag in hand, and quickly appraised it. Small, but simple, the cabin doorway led into a living room, a large fireplace on the far right wall, a couch not far across from it. To the left of the door was a dining room, a small kitchen adjoining it, and down the immediate hallway ahead of the door were three other rooms: a bathroom and two guest rooms.

Paul came in behind her and shut the door, rubbing his hands together furiously, attempting to use the friction to warm them. "It's nice, right?" He looked around and took a shallow breath. "God, it's nicer than I thought."

She set her travel bag down and headed to the fireplace. It took her only a moment to activate it and set the nearby environmental controls to a warmer temperature. "You should warm yourself." She motioned for him to sit on the couch.

He held up a finger and reopened the door, grabbing his travel bag from the porch and casually tossing it in. He closed the door and made his way to the couch, sitting on it quickly. "Don't want to leave my clothes out there." He flashed a grin, his face still red. "Don't want my pajamas to get cold."

She arched her eyebrow slightly. "Pajamas?" His face flushed redder at that. "I was unaware you wore ‘pajamas'."

He cleared his throat, shifting on the couch. "Well, it's not like they're Captain Kirk pajamas or anything," he said, looking embarrassed. "I mean ... well, it's cold!"

"Obviously," she dryly replied. Her lips formed into a small smile.

He saw it and smiled back.

Perhaps her doubts were unfounded.

****

Dinner had been a quick affair, nothing special, but decent all the same. Paul had cooked his best stew and, to his surprise, Seven had liked it. She did notice that it was a bit salty, but she had liked it otherwise. It was nice, actually, to cook something for her that wasn't a dessert. He had no intention of promoting a sweet tooth, even if he was almost certain she didn't have one.

It was night now and the cabin was nice and cozy. After dinner, the two had made their way over to the couch, sitting before the fire which crackled with heat and energy. He had floated the idea of a game or something, but she had quietly informed him that it was unnecessary.

The way she said it told him she meant it and so they sat. He wasn't sure how long it had been since a word had been spoken, but it was definitely longer than half an hour. He had worked up the courage to drape his arm over her shoulder and she had accepted it, even leaning into him a bit. Her hand had found his free one and their hands were weaved together.

It was warm. It was comforting.

But the silence nagged at him. Not because he didn't enjoy it, he did: sitting with someone and not being forced to speak, to fill the air, it was a Godsend. It was exhausting trying to find something to talk about most days.

Today wasn't one of those days, though. His mind was focused very much on the what the day represented: it was a day of new beginnings. A day of resolutions. A day of promises. A day of fresh starts.

It was his first New Year's in this timeline, in this universe. Nearly a year ago he had arrived here to find his world changed. Personally, his history had remained largely the same. The last few months, however, were all a result of this new timeline.

The fact he was here, with Seven now, was because of the new timeline in his mind. He hadn't told her yet. He didn't know how, honestly. How do you explain to someone you're from a different universe?

I could ruin everything. That was his main concern: he should have told her told her sooner, really. He should have told her at the Christmas party, when she told him about her involvement with Voyager's XO. It wouldn't have sounded so bad, then. It would have been a truth for a truth.

But he didn't tell her, didn't think about telling her, because he was so lost in the moment: that wonderful, blissful, exciting moment.

He was in a similar moment right now and his actions could ruin it, but this was New Year's. She had been honest with him and he owed her the same, he owed her this, especially after the disaster with his father. Taking a deep breath, he turned away from the fire and looked at her.

Her face was inviting, a small smile on her lips as her eyes sparkled from the light of the fire; her ocular implant even seemed to glow. He questioned if he should say anything, if it was really that important, but his doubts were squashed by his need to be honest.

"Seven," he began. Her eyes shifted over to him curiously. "I ... I have something to tell you." He tensed at the words.

She detected it and raised her head from his shoulder, turning it fully to look at him. "Yes?"

His mind blanked. What was he supposed to say? How could he start this? "I ... well ..." He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "It's New Year's, right? A time for resolutions. A time for new beginnings."

Confusion crossed her features but her tone remained calm. "It is."

"Right, right." He stared into her eyes. She's worth the truth. "What I'm about to tell you is highly classified. Not even Admiral Janeway knows."

That caught her attention. "I see," she said, her voice careful but concerned.

He let go of her hand and brought it to rest on his lap. The fire crackled in the quiet cabin as he searched for the words. "I'm not exactly native ... here." She looked confused and he winced. "No, that's a poor way of saying it." He pursed his lips and pointed at himself. "I'm not of this timeline. I'm from a different one ... my entire crew is, actually. We all came from a different one."

He watched as her eyes narrowed, her lips curling into a small frown. He wasn't sure what he was seeing, what emotions she was feeling. "This is not your native reality," she concluded, her voice far off. "How long?"

"Since last February." He looked down for a moment. "We crossed over then ... it's been nearly a year."

"Elaborate on the circumstances." Her tone was cool before she added a bit more warmly, "Please."

He looked back up at her, hope on his face. "From our native reality, our original timeline, we were pulled into an area protected by temporal changes ... a sort of reset planet, there in case something went awry with the proper timeline." He offered a small shrug. "Temporal mechanics was never my forte, but that planet had technology that allowed us to go back in time and repair the timeline."

Seven cocked her head to side slightly. "How was the timeline altered?"

He was about to violate a lot of orders, but he didn't care. She hadn't outright rejected him; rather, she was letting him explain it. That was a good sign in his mind. "A species of aliens called the Del'Vreer. They were masters of nanotechnology, more advanced than any other nano-tech I've ever come across, including Borg."

Her eyes flashed surprise. "That is ... disconcerting."

He nodded. "Their technology allowed them to perfectly assume the form of any being they wanted to and fool most of our scanning techniques. In my original timeline, they killed many, many people. Innocent people." He pressed on, determined not to remember every little detail: this wasn't about that. "We were pulled from the timeline just before it was altered and sent back in time to stop the Del'Vreer." He let out a breath. "Which we did but when we came back our timeline had been replaced by ... well, this one." He stared into her eyes, looking for understanding, but he could hear how crazy this sounded. "Look, I know this sounds like a bad plot from a holonovel, but it's the truth." He looked at the ceiling for a moment before forcing himself to look back at her. "And I should have told you this before now: I'm sorry I didn't."

She turned her head back to the fire and stared into it, offering no sign one way or another about her feelings. Was this it for them? Had he ruined it? Did she understand? Was this even understandable?

Minutes passed as they sat in silence, him hoping and her thinking. Finally, she looked back to him. "I understand." She held out her hand. "And I believe you."

He blinked. "You're ... you're okay with this?"

A slight nod. "There are many things I have experienced that are similar in nature to what you have described."

He accepted her hand, thankful for it and curious as to why she was so understanding all at once. "Like what?"

She took a breath. "There was a time, many years ago, when I was used to alter a timeline: to prevent the deaths of everyone but a select few aboard Voyager. It was ... strange ... to be used in such a manner. But a timeline was altered: one in which I, and everyone I knew, would have died."

"I can't imagine," he conceded. That sounded almost as crazy as what he had just said. He squeezed her hand. "But it makes me feel better that I'm not alone." He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it.

She smiled at him with an ease he had never seen before. "No, you are not alone." She drew closer to him and rested her head once more onto his shoulder. He draped his arm around her, and hands together, weaved into one, they sat before the fire.

Together, they were not alone.