Christmas, 2379
"Do you remember the heart-shaped one?"
Kathryn was on the floor of the living room, in front of the fire, surrounded by holo-images. Three months earlier they had been in Scotland, cold in comparison to North America at that time of year, often raining, but beautiful, and memorable to them for things more important than the scenery.
One of the most beautiful of the images they had brought back with them had been a firework that had exploded into a mass of red lights forming a heart shape, and then floated slowly, almost to the ground before dissolving.
"Of course I do." She located the picture and handed it to Chakotay as he settled on the ground behind her. Leaning back against his chest while his arms came around her waist, she looked again at the image. "I remember everything about that day."
They had been in Glasgow, and it had been warmer than usual. The coffee, bought from a street vendor in George Square, was bitter and scalding hot. There was cotton candy, and on a make-shift roller skating rink children fell over, laughed, and struggled back to their feet.
Walking around the square, stopping by the carousel, Chakotay had taken images of everything - Kathryn, stand by the carousel... by the statue... by the skating rink... - and she had laughed at him, but was secretly glad. They were making memories.
They had been standing to the side of the square, people watching, when Chakotay had begun to look serious. He had taken her near-empty coffee cup from her and thrown it away, then reached for her hand.
"Are you happy, Kathryn?"
She had smiled, a little surprised by the question, and squeezed his fingers between hers. "Yes, Chakotay. I'm happier than I thought I could be. I'm happy that you came to the Parises at Christmas, even though the circumstances caused you pain, and I'm happy I didn't allow myself to be petty and jealous. I'm happy we finally have the chance to be together."
Gripping her hand tighter, he had reached into his pocket with the other hand, retrieving a small maroon box, which he handed to her. She was about to open it when he stilled her hand with his own and tilted her chin up so she looked into his eyes.
"Kathryn, marry me?"
Stunned, she had opened the box. A small, tasteful diamond glittered at her from a thin gold band. "Yes," she had breathed, stroking the ring gently with one finger, as fireworks began to explode above them.
A stranger, passing by at the right time to hear Chakotay's question, had paused at a discreet distance to hear the answer, and as soon as it was clear that it was in the affirmative he had snapped a picture with his instant holo-imager.
Now, three months later, she held that picture in her hand. There were very few people who had that moment recorded for them, and she was grateful that it would be something they would hopefully be able to show to their children and grandchildren.
Chakotay took Kathryn's hand, turning the ring gently on her finger until it sparkled in the light of the fire, before wrapping his arms around her tightly and brushing a kiss against her neck.
"Merry Christmas, Kathryn. I love you."
Author's Note: For the Prixin Pixies. I decided to transplant George Square at Christmas into September.
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