Chapter Seven

 

          Time passed in a confused jumble of fractured thoughts and blurred images that slipped from her mind as soon as they came.  Every now and then, sounds and physical sensations penetrated the haze: the tingle of a transporter; the vague familiarity of a soft, male voice, beyond her understanding but strangely reassuring in the midst of the chaos; something coarse and wet scrubbed around her fingers, her wrist; the soft humming and vibrating around her.

 

          It seemed like years before her thoughts began to clarify, and she slowly intellectualized her way out of this waking dream.  The images faded as the power of her conscious mind reasserted itself and told her to ignore them, and she was finally able to decipher the information from her senses.  The vibration; she was in space.  Beeps and chirps; someone was manning a console.  She tried to open her eyes, but the lids wouldn't budge.  She wanted call out to the person, but her tongue wouldn't form the words.  She realized with a start that she could feel her body but she couldn't move it.  She tried to force something-- anything to happen.  She struggled against the leaden weight of her own body, but to no avail.

 

          Kathryn fought down her rising panic.  She tried to remember how this had happened, figure out where she was.  She remembered the reception when Durant... Durant!  He did this to her!  The memories grew blurry.  She couldn't...  Oh God.  Did he rape her?  She focused her attention.  No.  She didn't feel like he had.  She'd know, wouldn't she?

 

          The shattered glass.  The blood.  Hers, his?  The corridor, dark and constricted around her.  A door.  Chakotay's door?  He was just down the corridor; she was sure she'd run farther than that.  Then...?  It was a blur.  She had a vague impression of jumbled sounds, words she had not understood.

 

          Now she was lying on her back... on a bed?  No.  It was too hard.  She could feel warm leather under her hands, and she sensed that her body was not entirely flat.  A reclining seat with... leather upholstery?  Was she on the station or in Durant's ship?  Did Durant's ship have leather upholstery?

 

          She heard footsteps nearby, on the carpet next to her.  A slight humming.  A tricorder.

 

          "Good," the voice.  It was Chakotay's voice.  She'd know that gentle voice anywhere.  She was so relieved she could have wept.

 

          She felt his breath on her ear as he said,  "I know you can hear me, Kathryn...  Listen.  The sedative's dissipated in your blood stream, so I think it will be safe for me to give you a stimulant now.  Just relax and let it kick in."  And then he injected a hypo against her neck.

 

                                                                                                          *        *        *

 

          After two minutes, Chakotay questioned whether the stimulant had worked, and he was debating the safety of upping the dosage when he heard a small noise in her throat.  He leaned closer, watching her intently, and he saw her eyelids flicker.  They trembled for a few seconds, and then finally slipped open, revealing icy blue eyes that immediately flitted around the shuttle.  Slowly, her body began to stir, and her mouth bobbed open and closed a few times before she managed to slur, "Ch'tay..."

 

          "Just a little longer, Kathryn."

 

          After a few seconds, her voice was slightly clearer when she asked,  "How long?"

 

          "You were out for about three hours," he replied softly.

 

          A few seconds more passed, and she tried to pull her head up.  Chakotay saved her some effort and adjusted her chair into a sitting position  Her expression pinched as though she were in pain, and he watched her take a few deep breaths before forging,  "What happened?"

 

          He studied her unrevealing expression.  "You found me, asked for me to hide you--"

 

          "I don't remember that," she said with a frown.

 

          Chakotay raised his eyebrows.  "Well, I can tell you that I do.  And right now, my memory might be slightly more reliable than yours."

 

          Janeway inclined her head wearily at that.  She closed her eyes again, her brow furrowed, and then raised a trembling hand up to rub her temple.  He knew she was struggling to put the pieces together, and he continued,  "You asked me to hide you, so I concealed you.  A few minutes later, your husband and a big blonde fellow dropped by looking for you."

 

          Her eyes snapped open and he watched as something unreadable flickered across her face.   "I didn't know if you were hiding from them or from someone else, so I played it safe and told them I had no clue where you were.  I was scheduled to depart in thirty minutes.  I didn't have anywhere to conceal you on the station, so I took you with me."

 

          A second passed, and her expression was frozen.  Then, as though the pieces suddenly flew together, alarm and horror washed over her features.  "We're off the station?" Her eyes found his frantically.  "Chakotay-- take me back.  You have to take me back now!"

 

          "What's the hurry?" Chakotay asked.  He scrutinized her closely, saw immediately when the Captain's Mask snapped into place.

 

          "My husband doesn't know where I am.  He'll be frantic," Janeway said in a controlled voice.  A lie.  "Chakotay, please.  Just turn the ship around."

 

          Chakotay inclined his head, his face deceptively neutral.  "Of course I'll turn the ship around."  Before she could look too relieved, he added,  "As soon as you explain some things to me."

 

          Her expression was suddenly guarded, and she had an unreadable look in her eyes.  "What... things?"  She sat up straight, attentive and suspicious.

 

          He shrugged his large shoulders.  "Oh, I don't know.  Perhaps how, exactly, you ended up with massive amounts of an illegal sedative in your bloodstream."  She looked away, and he continued,  "Maybe you could explain whose blood was on your hands and uniform,"  She looked down at her dress uniform, stained with the telltale smear of blood.  Her expression clouded over, and he continued mercilessly,  "You could explain why you wanted me to hide you--"

 

          "I was delirious," she cut in quickly, her eyes sharp.  "It meant nothing."

 

          "Fine," Chakotay said smoothly.  "Even allowing for that, explain why your husband and his friend, so frantic to find you, were out looking for you themselves when the natural step would be to summon station security.  Explain why they *outright lied* when they told me you were drunk. Tell me why you stabbed your own husband--"

 

          "I didn't stab--" she began quickly.

 

          "I saw him clutching his side, Kathryn," he cut in, his voice glacial, finally having caught her in a direct lie.  "It was probably nothing more than a flesh wound, but you did it.  You had blood on your hands and he was injured.  Should I ask the computer for a DNA analysis of that stain on your tunic?"  Unbeknownst to her, he already had analyzed the blood.  It was Durant's.

 

          She glared at him angrily, but didn't accept his offer.  She pushed herself up to stand on now-steady legs, and he rose as well.  She set her hands on her hips, and said coldly, "Any other charges you'd like to level, Commander?"

 

          Chakotay felt a sudden surge of anger at her obstinacy.  "Yes, there are!  Why did you skip the reunion?  Why haven't you talked to any of your friends in over a year?  What the hell was that about, sleeping with me and then announcing your marriage to someone else?  Why have you lost so much--"

 

          She suddenly gave a short, harsh laugh, her eyes narrowed into tiny slits.  "That's what this is about, isn't it?" she hissed with sudden malice.  "You're still angry that I rejected you, and you're taking it out on me now!"

 

          His expression darkened.  She'd hit a vein, and he felt rage and hurt long suppressed threaten to overcome his reason; he fought it down.  He knew her.  She only resorted to vindictiveness when she couldn't have her way.  She aimed to draw blood.  He knew a tactic when he saw one.  As much as it rankled him, he refused to take the bait.

 

          "You can't goad me into returning you by making me angry, Kathryn."

 

          Janeway stared at him incredulously, a debate clearly raging inside her.  Then, suddenly subdued, "Chakotay, please," she implored,  "Why can't you just trust me?  I have to return.  Please take me back."

 

          "Kathryn, I will," he said just as softly, holding her eyes with his own.  "I will take you back, I swear that-- just as soon as you answer my questions."

 

          She closed her eyes, reigning in some impulse.  In a torn voice, "Can't you just accept that there are some things I can't tell you?"

 

          "No."

 

          Her eyes opened again, flashing.  The anger was rising again.  "Then maybe you can accept that it's none of your goddamn business!"

 

          "You made it my business the moment you showed up at my door!" he retorted sharply.

 

          "I didn't mean--"  her voice broke off abruptly, and her expression and voice hardened.  "Take me back now, Commander.  That's an order."

 

          He laughed.  "Kathryn, you can't order me.  I resigned, remember?"

 

          She glared at him.  "This is ridiculous.  I'm not answerable to you.  You can't keep me here against my will."

 

          "Really?" He said with calm logic,  "No one knows you're here.  Who's going to stop me?"  That galvanized her into a sudden rage.

 

          She ripped forward towards him and yelled, "Damn you, Chakotay!  Take me back now or I swear I'll report you for kidnapping!"

 

          He smiled sourly in return.  "Report me for kidnapping and I'll report you for illegal drug use.  Nerium, Kathryn?  What would that do to your dear hubby's political career?"

 

          She caught her breath.  She clearly hadn't considered that possibility.

 

          He took the opportunity to catch her eye.  "Kathryn, thus far, you have begged, threatened and cajoled."  She looked down, and he reached out to pull her chin up.  "Why don't you just tell me the truth?"

 

          She pulled away from him, her hands clenched into fists so tight her knuckles were white.   Her voice was choked when she said,  "Please, Chakotay.  You have to take me back.  Trust my judgment on this one."

 

          "Trust your judgment?" he sputtered.  He launched forward, grasped her by her thin shoulders, and hauled her over to a shiny console.  He held the surprised woman in place, staring at the shadowy image of herself.  "Look at yourself, for God's sake.  You're emaciated!  Did your *judgment* tell you to stop eating?  And your husband-- did your judgment tell you to marry a man who clearly terrifies you?  Your judgment hasn't done you any favors!"

 

          She said a chilly voice,  "The only time my judgment was wrong was when it told me to come to you."  She jerked out of his grip.

 

          "Well, you did come to me.  And it's too late to take that back."

 

          He watched her stalk around the shuttle like a caged lioness.

 

          "Chakotay, at least let me send a transmission to my husband, let him know I'm all right," she finally tried.

 

          "Once you tell me what's going on, you can make any transmission you like," he intoned flatly.

 

          Janeway turned to him, and asked tiredly,  "Why do you care, Chakotay?  It's not your concern."

 

          "I told you, it's been my concern ever since you sought my help," he replied stubbornly.  "You may have been delirious, but something sent you to me, whether you can admit it to yourself or not.  And I wouldn't be a good friend if I didn't find out why."

 

          "My, what a selective memory you have, Commander.  We're not friends."

 

          "Fine.  I wouldn't be a good *person* if I didn't find out why."

 

          She sank into her seat, her eyes shut tightly as if pained.  He felt a flicker of concern, but when she looked up, he realized the pain was nothing physical he could heal.

 

          "Chakotay..."

 

          He braced himself for another argument.

 

          "Do you have any coffee?  I really need coffee."

 

          He relaxed.  "I'll go replicate some."

 

          Chakotay walked away from the navigational pit up to the replicator.  He replicated coffee, and after a bit of thought, some scrambled eggs.

 

          He returned to find her gazing thoughtfully out the window.

 

          "Coffee and some breakfast."  He set them down next to the navigation console.

 

          She smiled a half-hearted  thanks, and quickly started on the coffee.  He sat down in the chair next to her, watching as she gulped down the coffee but disregarded the eggs.

 

          "You should eat something... regain your strength," he said after a while.

 

          "I don't like eggs," she replied dismissively.

 

          On Voyager, he'd seen her replicate them quite frequently.  He didn't mention it.  "I'll replicate something else."

 

          "No, that's fine," she said a little defensively.  "I truly am not hungry."

 

          "Your stomach's growling," he pointed out.  And it was.  He'd noticed it rumbling while she was indisposed and it hadn't ceased.

 

          She looked into the coffee, embarrassed.  "I'm fine, really."

 

          "You're not on a diet, are you?"  She clearly did not like the scorn in his voice.

 

          "If you must know, yes I am," she snapped angrily.

 

          "That's ridiculous.  You're thin.  Skinny.  Eat something."  He shoved the plate towards her.

 

          "Damn it, leave it be!" she snapped, and knocked the plate out of his hand and to the floor of the shuttle.

 

          Her action seemed to surprise both of them, and they sat there, staring at the clumps of yellow egg now smeared across the carpet.  When Chakotay drew his eyes back up to her, he could see tears streaking down her face.  "You're crying," he told her.

 

          "I have something in my eye," she replied defensively.  She raised her coffee for a sip.

 

          "Both of them?"

 

          He could see Janeway attempting to school her features into neutrality.  Her eyes were blank, her lips set in a flat line.  The Captain's Mask.  How he'd grown to hate that expression.  Now, though, the tears trickling faster and faster down her cheeks ruined the effect.

 

          "I'm just stressed.  It's been a miserable week," she finally admitted softly.  She batted her hand angrily at the tears.

 

          "A miserable week?" he prodded, hoping to get more from her.

 

          "A miserable year," she amended darkly.  Her eyes flickered down to the controls.  Quietly,  "Chakotay, you have to turn this ship around.  Lives depend upon it."

 

          "Whose lives?"

 

          "I can't tell you that," she said faintly, slumping back in her chair, physically and emotionally drained.

 

          "Don't you trust me, Kathryn?" he asked her.  She lolled her head over to meet his eyes.

 

          "It's not an issue of trust."

 

          "I trust you," he pointed out.

 

          She gazed at him thoughtfully.  "And I don't know why.  I've been a monster to you."

 

          He didn't debate that.  "Kathryn, we've had problems.  I realize that.  But there are also things that I've noticed, that the crew has noticed, things that lead me to question my entire perception of the last two years; since we returned, really."

 

          She looked at him warily.

 

          "You don't love Durant."

 

          Her eyes suddenly hardened into two little points, her cheeks flushed, and he realized now that he was on the right track.

 

          "I do."

 

          "No, you don't," Chakotay replied firmly.  "I'd even go so far as to say you hate him."

 

          She was breathing heavily now, an expression he could not decipher on her face.

 

          "You hate him, and you fear him.  You lash out, but never too far and never too hard because you're afraid of something.  A price you'll pay?"

 

          "You have it all wrong."

 

          "Do I?  Let's talk about his friend then.  Tall, bleached hair.  Big guy.  He'd give a Hirogen a run for his money.  Empet?"

 

          "Empek.  He's a charming and affable man," her voice was strained as she said this.

 

          "He's in on this, too, whatever it is."

 

          "I'll tell you what this is: a fabrication of your twisted imagination.  Can you take me back now?"

 

          He continued on, heedless,  "They drugged you.  I don't know why, but it was one or both of them.  You were disoriented and you followed your instinct, which was to fight back.  You stabbed Durant.  You escaped and found me.  That was a good thing."

 

          "*A good thing?*  Do you have any idea what you're talking about?" Janeway suddenly flared up, whirling on him with glittering, blue eyes.  "I destroyed everything!  You can't even imagine what he'll do to me!"

 

          Chakotay stared at her, hearing with surprise what she'd blurted in the heat of emotion

 

          She realized it, too, because she sat down, her eyes blazing, features hardened.

 

          "Kathryn--"

 

          "I'm not talking to you anymore," she snarled.  "You either take me back, or..."

 

          "Or what?"

 

          She looked away sullenly, refusing to speak.

 

          Chakotay shrugged, and went about cleaning the eggs from the floor.  He could feel her resentful gaze on him the whole time.

 

                                                                                                          *        *        *

 

          At first, Janeway simply sat there stewing in her own rage.  As more and more time passed, she began to grow increasingly agitated.  Hours upon hours.  She started pacing back and forth, her hands clenching in and out of tight fists.  Durant and Empek loomed larger and more terrible in her awareness with each passing moment.  She was utterly terrified for Chakotay, the goddamn fool for getting himself mixed up in this, angry at herself for destroying everything she'd labored to protect  for the past two years.  She never wanted him involved.  Never!  How could she have been so stupid?

 

          *I wonder how many people Durant's killed by now?*  She thought morbidly.  The faces of her old crew and the numbers mounted increasingly in her mind as the minutes ticked by.  How many would Durant kill in retaliation?  How many would he kill for each hour she was gone?

 

          Hours passed.  Occasionally she engaged Chakotay in the pointless argument again, but more often she paced.  She was constantly on the verge of tears, teetering towards the brink of collapse.  The irrational woman in her wanted to throw herself into Chakotay's arms in gratitude for taking her away from those terrible men, and to hell with the crew.  To hell with the Federation.  But she also wanted to rip his throat out for doing this to her; this escape was false.  They had her crew, everyone she knew and cared about utterly at their mercy.  A snap of Durant's fingers and the Orion Syndicate would flex its muscles and obliterate them from existence.   She was still their prisoner, no matter where Chakotay took her.

 

          She was trapped.  She couldn't tell Chakotay the truth.  She started to say something every once in a while out of sheer desperation, but her throat clamped over her own words.  Two years of conditioning, of fearful silence could not be cast aside in fifteen hours.  They weren't here in this ship to stop her, yet she felt their presence like a chain around her neck.  Durant.  Empek the mobster, Tondra the political zealot.  They would not hesitate.  If she peeped a word to Chakotay, they would strike him down and leave her bereft.

 

          And even deeper in her awareness was the irrational fear of Chakotay's reaction...  After all this time, thinking about him, clinging to his memory, she couldn't bear to see the disgust on his face, the sheer disgust he'd feel at seeing her reduced to this.  A woman who had stood up to the Borg Queen, faced down foes twice her size, utterly unable to overcome a situation concocted by one little man.  A Starfleet Captain, reduced to decorative girlfriend, to trophy wife, and soon to brood mare and whore.  A woman who'd gotten her own family and five of her crew killed.  He'd feel disgust that he'd ever touched her, ever believed in her, ever trusted her with his well-being.

 

          But her silence was deadly.  Chakotay wouldn't return her without the truth, or a decent lie.  The longer she was away from Durant, the worse the price would be for those she loved.

 

          Kathryn cursed herself.  She should have gone to the goddamn fertility clinic.  If Durant had wanted her after that, she should have let him have her.  Stupid woman, fighting the inevitable.  There would have been no drug to cloud her judgment, and no price to pay now.  No terrible price.

 

          Her brooding ceased when the world abruptly blackened around her; her legs almost buckled.  She barely stumbled back to her chair in time, and when Chakotay scanned her with a tricorder then pressed some water to her lips and a fork with scrambled eggs, she drank and ate dutifully until she felt sickeningly full.

 

          "I told you that you needed to eat something," he noted quietly.

 

          As the dizziness faded, she said dully,  "I thought you threw those eggs away."

 

          "I threw away the ones you knocked out of my hand.  I replicated another plate."

 

          "But I wasted your rations--" she stopped.

 

          He stared at her, appalled.  "I'd never feed you something off the floor."

 

          She crossed her arms tightly across her chest and closed her eyes, disoriented.  What had just happened?  He'd wasted his rations.  Twice.  She'd knocked them away the first time, the second time she couldn't finish, yet he didn't level a word of blame at her.  The realization touched her, and she felt a stab of pain in her chest at his compassion, his goodness.  Her eyes stung with tears.

 

          Durant and Empek.  If she'd done that to Durant, he would have shoved her face down, or he'd have Empek do it.  He would have made her eat them off the floor, lick the last traces away.  Maybe Empek would have pissed on them first.  A lesson.  Always a lesson.

 

          She hadn't realized she was crying until Chakotay pulled her up against his chest.  And then she couldn't hold back the terrible, heart-wrenching sobs as the fear and dread overwhelmed her.  It sent tremors, violent tremors through her whole body.  He held her still against him and she tried to focus on him and not think of Durant just a few hours earlier holding her in the same way. 

 

          Durant, with his terrible contradictions.  One minute a monster, the next almost human.  After she poisoned him, he had everything she ate and drank poisoned.  She avoided it until she was forced out of sheer thirst to drink the doctored water.  Day after day for two weeks, each time forced by thirst to drink, each time falling ill.  Doubled over in painful cramps, throwing up the small amount she'd managed to consume before the toxin kicked in, he pulled her hair back from her face, stroked her back, injected her with whatever nutrients she needed to survive.  He smiled to see her sweet relief when she finished a glass without the horrible nausea striking her down, when she realized that her punishment was over.

 

          His punishments, always a magnification of her offense, always with the terrible element of mercy that made her despise him even more.  Had he been devoid of humanity, she could have understood him.  But he clearly had compassion, he clearly had ethics, and he could still do this to her.  He was destroying her.  Every day he was killing her a bit more.  He knew it, he seemed to feel some measure of remorse for it, yet he did it anyway.

 

          And she'd never see her mother or her sister again because of him.

 

          Kathryn felt a stab of despair.  That had been the worst blow, the most horrible.  If he'd started off any other way, she might have had a clear enough head to stop the situation before it escalated. She might have been able to wriggle her way out.  But he had killed them both, and so brutally... so very brutally; it had blotted out her thought process.  She could do nothing but comply, numb and shell-shocked.  The sheer disbelief that this could happen, just months after reaching the sweet haven of Earth...

 

          She still hadn't recovered from that blow; she never had a chance.  It was always one demand after another with him, one more concession on her part, one more indignity.  Always the public front, the plaster smile, the fabricated words.  No one ever gave her a moment to mourn, or to simply breathe.  Their faces, the faces of the only family she'd had left, were fading from her mind every day, disappearing before she'd even reconciled herself to the fact that they were gone.

 

          She was bawling like a child now, wailing really, and she suddenly felt mortified.  She would have died before she'd let Chakotay see her like this.  On Voyager her grief was her own; she never burdened another with it.  But now she couldn't stop.  It had been so long, so very long, since she'd had a friend, a genuine friend.

 

          Chakotay was stroking her back now, whispering soothing words into her hair.  She relished the feel of his arms around her, while retaining the terrible knowledge that this would be the last time she'd ever feel them.

 

          As time passed, and her tears began to die down, she asked, "Why are you doing this?  You must hate me." Her voice was muffled against his chest.

 

          There was a long moment of silence, then,  "No.  I don't hate you.  I could never truly hate you, Kathryn, even when I tried."

 

          Her heart swelled with warmth and affection for this man, this gentle soul.  Chakotay.  She loved him.  God how she loved him.  That night, that one night with him, had been her sustenance for over a year.  This moment of tenderness, she knew, could help her through the dark days of the future.  She clutched to him tighter, holding him fiercely, dreading that she'd soon have to let him go. 

 

          Her mind flashed back to the bridge before she sought assimilation, all those years ago.  Fear and dread kept her glued to her seat, and for a long moment she felt her courage faltering.  Chakotay, his eyes filled with love and support, his hand clutching hers, was only thing that propelled her from her seat and into the turbolift.  And now, for the sake of this man who held her in his arms, and for the sake of the friends they both cherished, she had to walk into another certain calamity.  She could do it.  She was strong.

 

          "Do you want to talk about it now?" His gentle voice brought her out of her reverie, bringing back the reality of the situation.

 

          She pulled back out of his arms, and his dark eyes on her with concern.  Kathryn managed a shaky smile, wiping the last of her tears away with unsteady fingers.  "No.  It's truly nothing.  It's been a stressful week.  I'm sorry to burden you, Commander."

 

          His expression cooled at the use of his old rank.  "Do you need anything?"

 

          She'd been expecting that question.  "Well, I could use another cup of coffee."  As he rose, she put a hand on his arm to stop him.  "I can get it, please sit."

 

          He sat back down with a half smile.  Janeway stood up, her expression guileless, her thoughts scheming.  She walked around the bend to the replicator, discreetly taking note of the various storage compartments, picking out the weapon's locker.  She activated the replicator command for coffee, and the humming of the replicator masked the sound of the weapons locker sliding open.  Janeway grabbed the nearest hand phaser, and felt suddenly reassured by its solid weight in her hand.

 

          "Can I get you anything, Chakotay?" she called as she approached the cockpit.

 

          The oblivious Chakotay replied,  "No, I'm fine."  She could see his dark head turned away from her.

 

          "Then maybe you could do something for me."   Kathryn emerged into the navigational cockpit and leveled the phaser at him.  He turned and she watched surprise flitter across his face.  He looked her, then at the phaser, then back at her.

 

            "What do you plan to do with that, Admiral?" he asked in an even tone.

 

          Janeway stared him down, her eyes narrow.  She spoke in the sharp voice of command.  "You're going to turn this shuttle around and fly me back to Deep Space Seven immediately.  Understood?"

 

          "And why would I do that?" he asked calmly, putting his hands behind his head and leaning back in his chair in an infuriating show of calm.

 

          "Because if you don't," Janeway said in a soft, threatening voice,  "I will shoot you and fly the ship back myself."

 

          He smiled knowingly, and she suddenly had a bad feeling about this.

 

          "You'll find that rather difficult.  The control padd responds to my DNA signature alone.  You can't navigate the ship or even activate the communications equipment without my touch."

 

          Janeway thought rapidly about that, then smirked at him with arrogant self-possession.  "There's no reason you have to be conscious when I press your fingers to the controls," she said flippantly.

 

          She felt a sudden sinking dismay when he only smiled wider.  "The course is locked in and protected with a security code.  Unless you have my security clearance, Kathryn, there's absolutely nothing you can do to alter it."

 

          Janeway didn't believe him.  It wasn't possible.  He had to be lying.  It was too goddamn convenient for him.

 

          Keeping her phaser on him, she prowled over, grabbed his hand, manipulated his limp fingers across the console.  He made no moves against her, simply smiled smugly.  The computer screen requested her security code.  She tried to tap into the communications array, only to receive another request for a security code.

 

          In mounting frustration, Janeway let go of his wrist and whirled on him with a growl,  "Tell me the security code!"

 

          Chakotay shook his head briefly.

 

          Infuriated, Janeway fired a warning shot at the wall behind him.  Chakotay ducked reflexively as the beam hit, then looked back to stare at the white sparks still spraying from the charred bulkhead.

 

          Janeway let him see that, then repeated in her most menacing tone,  "Tell me the security code now, Chakotay!"

 

          "What will you do?  Stun me?  That won't help.  Kill me, Kathryn?" he asked, his expression unreadable.

 

          "If I have to."

 

          He shook his head.  "I don't think you will."

 

          "Don't test me," she said coldly.

 

          He scrutinized her intently, seeming to gauge her intent.  "No, you won't."

 

          With a growl of frustration, Janeway fired again, over his head.  He didn't even flinch.

 

          "Shoot the wall up all you want, Kathryn.  It's not going to work.  You won't kill me."

 

          "Oh won't I?" her voice was high, with an edge of desperation to it.

 

          "No, you won't.  We both know that killing me won't help you hack into that system.  And besides," he added softly, "We both know you can't kill me."

 

          "Oh?  You're that sure of your worth to me, aren't you?" she meant it as a taunt, but her unsteady voice and faltering confidence ruined the effect.

 

          He said nothing.  She kept the phaser on him, even as he stood up and approached her.  Kathryn was at a loss.  What could she do?

 

          "Kathryn, put the phaser down," he urged her, his dark eyes intent.  "You're not going to get anywhere this way."

 

          After a few moments in which they both knew she was defeated, she jerked the phaser back to her side, angrier than ever.  Chakotay reached out to take the phaser from her, but she clutched it to her side in a compulsive grip, her glare challenging him to dare reach for it again.  He shrugged and turned away, letting her keep the phaser if it made her feel better.

 

          Janeway cradled the useless phaser in her arms, crushingly aware that she was out of options.

 

Chapter Eight

 

          The last time Durant had been wounded, he was 30 years old.  He was carving a turkey at a diplomatic function, a good joke had distracted him, and he gashed the knife right against his hand.  It was shortly after the war, and although he'd never been injured in the Cardassian conflict, the carnage he'd seen there had steeled him for the disconcerting moment when blood seeped from the numbed slit in his hand.  He remained fairly collected, waiting for the fretting Andorian attaché to retrieve a dermal regenerator and heal his wound.  The instrument had swept right over his wound, and when he wiped the blood away, the skin underneath was smooth and unbroken.

 

          Now, however, nineteen years later, comfortable living worked against him.  The first few moments after he was stabbed were filled with sheer terror, watching his half-crazed wife flail the damned broken bottle around, then blessedly move away from him and dash out into the corridor like some rabid animal.  It took him a few moments to comprehend that the danger from her was over.  He was aware that his body was shaking, his hand clenching convulsively over the wound in his abdomen.  He raised it slightly, saw thick red blood coating his skin, his fingers, and he gaped with disbelief, suddenly feeling light-headed.  This couldn't be happening.

 

          He tried to catch his breath, to focus his thoughts.  His first impulse was to call Doctor Tondra, and a renewed fright surged through him when he remembered that he had left her on Earth.  He cursed himself for leaving her behind, and he nearly followed the impulse to summon someone from the station medical bay, catching himself at the last minute.  He couldn't exactly explain this to them, nor come up with a lie in his current state of mind.  He had to call Empek.  He needed Empek.

 

          He sent the transmission, told him in a jagged voice that Janeway had attacked him, that he needed help.  Mere seconds passed before the imposing, ashen-haired man barreled through his door into his quarters.  Durant nearly collapsed in relief at the sight of his stalwart associate.

 

          "Empek, I'm bleeding.  I'm bleeding badly--" Durant began.  He pulled his trembling fist up from the wound in his side to showcase it for his associate.

 

          Empek's threw a cursory glance at Durant's wound, but focused instead on stalking around the quarters, reminding Durant of a restless tiger.  "Computer, locate Admiral Janeway."

 

          "*Admiral Janeway's location is unknown.*" 

 

          Empek whirled on him.  "Where's Janeway?"

 

          "You're worried about Janeway?" Durant sputtered incredulously, the absurdity registering through his mounting sense of panic.  "I've been stabbed, Empek--"

 

          Empek shot him a withering look.  "You have a flesh wound, Admiral Durant.  I could see that with one glance.  Were it anything more, you would be doubled over on the floor, half-conscious and bleeding profusely."  He took a step closer to Durant, and asked,  "Where is Janeway?"

 

          Disconcerted...  "She-- that bitch, the bitch stabbed me...  I'll kill her--" Durant rasped, enraged, distraught.  She'd nearly given him a heart attack.  The bitch was crazed.  He truly believed for a few moments there that she was going to kill him.  She was insane--

 

          "Yes, she did, and she will pay accordingly later.  What I want to know is-- *where is she now?*"

 

          Durant looked up sharply, suddenly realizing that he'd given no thought to her, that he hadn't even considered what she might have done once she fled.  He suddenly felt sick with dread.

 

          "I don't know.  She ran out into the corridor."

 

          An unreadable look darted across Empek's face, then he lanced over with inhuman speed, grasped Durant's arm, and yanked him towards the door.  "Is she contacting station security?  We must--"

 

          "Ow, shit!"  Durant winced away, hissing at the sudden pain his movement aroused.  He clamped his hand to his side, over the searing wound.  He saw that Empek would spare him no breathing room, and sought to reassure him.  "No, no,"  Durant said,  "No, it's okay.  I gave her something-- a sedative.  She's got to be out of it by now.  She'll be unconscious; she can't talk to anyone.  We're okay.  We can just find her.  She won't be far." 

 

          He could see that his words failed to reassure Empek, and he disliked the dubious look on the larger man's normally impassive face as they walked out into the corridor to search.

 

          After prowling up and down the hall, inquiring at the nearby crew quarters with no results, Durant grew increasingly agitated.  The situation was out of control.  It had just spun out of control.  What the hell had she been thinking?  Didn't she know--

 

          Empek abruptly shuffled him back into his own quarters, turned on him, grasped Durant by the arm and jerked him face to face, within centimeters of his dark gaze.  "What happened?"

 

          Durant was unsettled.  "Is this really the time--"

 

          Empek's tone was unyielding.  "The specifics, Admiral!"

 

          Durant took a breath.  He would have preferred to leave Empek out of this.  Damn Janeway...  "I gave her something, a drug--"

 

          "What drug?"

 

          Durant pulled slightly back out of Empek's grasp.  "Nerium.  And she--"

 

          "Nerium's an illegal substance," Empek said intently, suddenly gripping Durant again.  "And I did not acquire it for you."

 

          Durant suddenly shook his head, agitated.  This was ridiculous.  Precious time was going by.  "We're wasting our time.  We should go to--"

 

          "How did you get your hands upon Nerium, Admiral?"  Empek demanded in a cold voice that reminded Durant of Empek's frequent interrogations of Janeway.

 

          Durant felt more than a little put off that this petty thug would dare raise that tone with him, and his voice was hard and belligerent as he began,  "On the station promenade, there was a man who had some in stock--"

 

          "You went to a small time drug dealer on a Starfleet space station?  A station equipped with security cameras, security personnel, and a thousand people who will more likely than not recognize you?" Empek's voice was lower than usual, a strange look in his eyes.

 

          "He wasn't the type who'd know me, I didn't see--"

 

          His words died on his lips as Empek took a step impossibly closer, and Durant was suddenly unsettlingly aware of how much larger, how much stronger the other man was.  He vividly remembered Empek twisting Janeway's arm like it was putty--

 

          "That was the single most foolish thing you could have done, Admiral,"  Empek's voice was deadly soft.

 

          Durant wasn't sure what to say.  Empek stepped back, allowing Durant space to breathe.

 

          As Durant struggled to collect himself, Empek censured,  "The Orion Syndicate put forth a significant investment in you, Admiral.  The Syndicate expects you to fulfill our expectations, but instead of taking our generous investment into consideration, you risked squandering it by purchasing an illegal substance from a narcotics dealer.  Do you realize what would have happened had you been caught?  Do you realize that you gambled everything we have worked for-- and for what?  Nerium?  Why did you need it?"

 

          Durant didn't answer, but he didn't have to.  The perceptive Empek's voice was colored by not a little contempt.

 

          "You feared subduing a woman half your strength, half your weight."  At Durant's look, he said,  "Oh, yes, Admiral, I know quite a bit more than you might think.  You were not brave enough to take her in a direct confrontation, or humble enough to request my assistance, so you played the fool and put all of us in jeopardy."

 

          "Empek--"

 

          "Do you realize what I have to do now, Admiral?"  Empek continued implacably.  "I have to order a hit upon whatever narcotics dealer sold you the Nerium, and upon whomever he might have spoken with since the time you gave him your business.  I have to order the obliteration of station security recordings in the promenade, and the execution of any passer Byers who possibly saw your transaction.  I have to exterminate anyone who might have seen Admiral Janeway since she escaped, and I have to send people under the pretense of illness to the medical bay to intercept her should anyone find her and discover the Nerium in her bloodstream. 

 

          "Additionally, I will either have to run a bio signature scan of the entire station-- which could take hours-- in order to locate Admiral Janeway.  That procedure often meets little success, and failing that I will need to analyze station security logs to track her movement, which will again require great time and effort in the theft of station security codes and the hacking of the system.  On top of all this, I have to figure out why, exactly, the main computer cannot get a fix on Janeway's location, and even with all these precautions, we could run into additional problems... For example, should someone of dubious intent come across your wife-- incapacitated and alone-- recognize her, and choose to exploit her weakness for profit or other ill-design; that would be a grave scenario.  I may have to bribe countless officials to avoid investigation once I finish this damage control... Do you understand now the situation you have put me in?"

 

          Durant was angry now at the other man's unwarranted criticism.

 

          "If you have so very much work to do, Empek," Durant said coldly,  "I suggest you shut the hell up and get started."

 

          "*What* did you say to me?"

 

          A look-- was it rage, contempt, malice?-- flickered across the other man's normally empty black eyes, and suddenly Durant's courage faltered, and he dreadfully regretted the rash remark. 

 

          Durant took a steadying breath.  "I apologize, Empek.  You're right, I put you in a bad situation, and I apologize for bringing this all about.  Know I have full confidence in you," Durant tried to force the easy tone of authority back into his voice.  "I wouldn't have anyone else do this for me--"

 

          "I am not doing this for you," Empek countered softly, an ominous light gleaming in his eyes.  "Perhaps, Admiral, you overstep your bounds because you fail to recognize that the Syndicate does not work for you; *I* do not work for you."

 

          Empek took a step closer to Durant, towering over him.

 

          "You, Admiral Durant," he said softly,  "work for us.  And it could prove very unfortunate for you if you forget that."

 

          At that moment, Empek's expression and voice, cold as ice, inspired in Durant the same cold fear he was used to seeing in his wife.  He was trained enough to steel his facial expression into neutrality, but Empek must have smelled his terror.  The knowing look in the other man's eyes told Durant that any attempt to hide it was futile.

 

          Empek turned then, glided soundlessly out the door and vanished around the bend of the corridor. 

 

          Durant stood there a long moment.  He became aware of a renewed throbbing of his wound-- *A flesh wound,* he recalled with not a little resentment, and he headed back into the guest bedroom to hunt for a dermal regenerator.

 

          It was difficult to heal his wound.  The hand clutching the dermal regenerator was trembling too violently for precision.

 

                                                                                                *        *        *

 

          Almost an hour had passed.  Chakotay sent a few coded transmissions, Janeway remained silent.  Then, she suddenly spoke from behind him,  "It's a classified mission."

 

          Chakotay smiled skeptically to himself; he'd been wondering how long it would take her to resort to lying.  "Oh?"

 

          She nodded, leaning forward enthusiastically.  "It's not something I was supposed to tell.  You see, Admiral Durant-- you're right, I don't love him.  It was business, but Admiral Durant-- you see, he's a Founder."

 

          "Founder?"

 

          "A changeling.  Yes.  But you see, ever since the treaty with the Dominion was signed, the Founders have been staying clear of Starfleet, so we weren't entirely sure what--"  She stopped, suddenly catching the fundamental flaw in her words that Chakotay had immediately spotted.  Chakotay had seen Durant's blood on her tunic.  Changelings didn't bleed.

 

          She must have lost her story right then, because she tried to cover with a clumsy, "I mean-- Durant's a changeling, but you see, there's also the real Admiral Durant."

 

          "Of course.  The real Admiral Durant," Chakotay murmured tonelessly.

 

          "The changeling doesn't know he's alive, but he and I are working together to stop the changeling.  And sometimes the changeling's Empek."

 

          "You mean, the changeling doesn't only impersonate one person?" Chakotay said innocently.

 

          She forged on,  "I accidentally stabbed him, Durant I mean, because I thought he was the changeling--"

 

          "And we all know how much it hurts a formless goo to have a sharp instrument plunged into it," Chakotay said, smiling.

 

          She didn't even listen to him.  "I made the mistake because I was in my quarters and somewhat disoriented. See, earlier-- oh, I completely forgot to tell you-- I accidentally took Nerium when I meant to take a painkiller for a headache I had.  Oh, and Durant..."

 

          She trailed off; Chakotay was laughing outright now.  "Dear God, Kathryn, you used to lie better than that."

 

          Janeway faltered, then grew angry.  "You're not even hearing me out.  I'm not lying."

 

          "You can't even decide who the changeling is!" Chakotay exclaimed.  "And you 'accidentally' took Nerium?  What-- it was just lying around for you?  I can't believe that's the best you can come up with."

 

          After a frustrated silence, Janeway scowled fiercely and hissed,  "Let's see you do better."

 

          He was still chuckling when she whirled away once again.

 

                                      *        *        *

 

          "Commander Chakotay," Empek reported nearly twenty hours after Janeway's flight.

 

          Durant looked up in surprise, still clutching the reassuring hand of the just-arrived Doctor Tondra in his own.  "Chakotay?  That can't be.  We stopped by his quarters--"

 

          "--But we failed to search them.  He took Janeway off the station," Empek intoned.  "He beamed her onto his ship and departed.  Her bio signature leads directly to his door, and the transporter logs confirm that her pattern dematerialized from his room."

 

          Durant took a breath, thinking over the situation.  He'd had almost a day to regain his composure, his center, and he felt more in charge of the situation now than before.  He was clear-headed enough to think, and he was very intent on solving this mystery before Empek.

 

          "Chakotay.  Why?  She despises him..." Durant murmured.

 

          Empek leaned closer to him, his eyes narrowed.  "I pointed out to you months ago, Admiral, that many of Janeway's log entries, especially concerning the Commander, had been altered and doctored.  You failed to deal her an adequate punishment.  I could have extracted the truth from her, had you permitted it.  She could easily have--"

 

          "No!" Durant interrupted, his voice firm, angry again.  "Empek, I know for a fact that the woman hates him." 

 

          She couldn't have fooled him; he knew her, damn it...  There was no way she could have lied to his face about that for two years straight.  He was a good judge of character, especially when it came to her.  He owned that woman; he knew every emotion that flickered in her eyes, he could decipher every facial expression, every fluxuation in her tone.  He *knew* when she was lying.  He would never believe that she was capable of pulling the wool so completely over his eyes.  He couldn't believe it.

 

          "Nabusha," Durant said suddenly, glancing over at Doctor Tondra,  "If she was dosed up on 20 mg of Nerium, how long could she have remained coherent?"

 

          Tondra looked at him with impassive, dark eyes.  "I'm surprised she remained clear-headed enough to run down the corridor, much less coherent enough to plot escape with Commander Chakotay."  A pause.  "If you gentlemen don't mind my saying, I believe it is sharply out of character for Janeway to flee like this.  She knows the consequences; she's never displayed such a horrendous lapse in judgment before.  It's true that the Nerium clouded her thought process-- hence the attack on you, John...  But she would never have attempted escape.  I find it difficult to believe she would flee the station intentionally."

 

          "What are you suggesting?" Durant asked quietly.

 

          Tondra raised a sharp eyebrow.  "I wouldn't presume to suggest anything, Admiral.  I'm simply elucidating my opinion of the matter."

 

          "I think you *are* implying something," Durant said with a bit of a smile.  "And I was thinking the same thing.  You think... maybe she was kidnapped?"

 

          "Doubtful," Empek scoffed with an infuriatingly casual disregard for their intellectual prowess.

 

          Durant ignored him.  "Think about it!"  He looked over at Doctor Tondra, grateful that at least she seemed receptive of his words.  "Chakotay-- a man in love...  Empek, you saw those logs, you saw that he cared about her.   He was a man scorned, and last night, he may have walked out into the corridor, or heard some commotion, and found her right there, unconscious.  The man was a criminal, we all know that... he has a history of disregarding ethical considerations; he may have found her there, and after two trying days of seeing his love cavorting with her husband, he simply snapped.  Then and there, he decided to grab her.  It's the perfect opportunity--"

 

          "I don't find this assumption in character with Command Chakotay in the least," Empek cut in.  "He displayed a good deal of fondness for her in his logs, true, but he was not a violent--"

 

          "You're talking about a Maquis terrorist, for God's sake!"  Durant exclaimed harshly.  "How can you say he's not a violent man?  A man who can quit Starfleet to butcher people over some perceived grievance won't quail at kidnapping one woman.  If he's in love-- no, if he's *fixated* on her, and he has absolutely no way to win her affections--"

 

          "Janeway did seem unusually ill-disposed towards the man," Tondra chimed in thoughtfully.

 

          "--And what would stop him?  Nothing!  You did say," he said looking over at Tondra,  "That there was a very slim chance she could have remained coherent long enough to even speak with him.  She didn't plot an escape with him because she wasn't *capable* of plotting with him."

 

          Even with Empek's characteristic lack of expression, Durant could tell he remained skeptical.

 

          "Empek--" Durant admonished, looking intently at the other man to draw his attention.  "Look at the facts.  He loves her.  She hates him.  She's married to another man.  He must have been jealous.  Violently jealous.  He has a violent past.  She was incapacitated and literally lying at his doorstep.  He kidnapped her; it's the only explanation that makes sense."

 

          "Why did Janeway seek out Chakotay's quarters, then?" Empek demanded.

 

          "He was right down the corridor.  She was running, she collapsed, and by sheer coincidence, she landed there."

 

          "And Janeway's doctored logs?" Empek inquired dubiously.

 

          "Maybe she was protecting him," Durant said.  "What if he displayed this type of behavior on Voyager?  It's not impossible to consider.  She was certainly concerned with protecting the Maquis when Voyager returned; perhaps she believed that casting Chakotay in a favorable light would go very far towards helping the entire Maquis crew.  She could have doctored the entries to cover up for any misconduct on his part simply to protect her crew in the court of public opinion."

 

          "It seems to me, Admiral Durant, that you're stretching," Empek said tonelessly.

 

          "Then what do you believe, Empek?" he asked.  "That she's in league with the man?  That they planned this all along?"

 

          Empek hesitated, then,  "No."  A pause.  "I am uncertain what to believe.  But this... explanation sounds too simplistic.  It does not feel right."

 

          "Well frankly, Empek, I don't give a damn how it feels to you," Durant snapped, feeling emboldened by Doctor Tondra's presence by his side.  "I think this is the truth, and I want to operate under that assumption.  And you can quote me to your boss."

 

          Empek's eyes were cold and hard on him.  "Very well.  We will find out which of us is correct once we apprehend the Admiral."

 

          "If we do find her," Durant said spitefully.  "You've just been sitting around here.  What the hell do I need you guys for if you're not going to look for her?"

 

          Empek seemed slightly defensive as he replied,  "The Syndicate is already moving to locate Admiral Janeway and Commander Chakotay.  His itinerary indicates that his course is set for Talus IV; if we do not intercept him en route, there will be people waiting planet side for him.  We *will* apprehend them, Admiral."

 

          "And what if you don't?  He's probably changed his itinerary."

 

          "There is always the chance that he'll evade us for a longer period of time than is desirable," Empek admitted.  "But he cannot hide forever.  And if we encounter this scenario, you will have to provide some public explanation to account for Admiral Janeway's absence."

 

          Durant thought it over a moment.  "Maybe... maybe we can tell them the truth."

 

          Tondra looked over at him curiously.  "John?"

 

          "She was kidnapped," Durant said, a shadow of a smile on his lips.  "Drugged and kidnapped by a lovelorn former member of her crew.  I, her loving husband, valiantly attempted to intervene, and I was viciously stabbed for my efforts."  He looked between the other two smugly.  "How is that for PR?  We won't have to spend a day campaigning; every news agency will follow Admiral Jonathan Durant-- the grieving, yet dignified husband who put his very life on the line for the sake of his beloved wife.  A family man, a soldier.  It's practically a fairy tale.  Jesus, the sympathy vote alone could give me a majority."

 

          Empek was scowling.  "I don't like it.  It could grow complicated, especially once Admiral Janeway is located.  There will be intense investigation.  There are too many potential problems--"

 

          "They're going to find out she's missing anyway, Empek, whether we like it or not," Durant's voice was vaguely patronizing.  "There's an opportunity here, an opportunity *I will not miss.*  Don't you understand-- this could be the trick.  This single act, if we play it right, could hand me the presidency."  He leaned towards Empek.  "Think of your investment.  Think of how displeased your superiors would be if you passed up such a golden opportunity."

 

          Empek clearly did not take kindly to Durant's attempt to hound him.  He said in an icy voice, "My superiors will also not take it kindly if I let you take a foolish risk and you fail.  You are already faring well in the polls--"

 

          "Forty-three percent," Durant snapped.  "Even if Sovar loses votes to McGregor, assuming he'll even run, I won't have a mandate with forty-three percent.  I can't get my reforms through if I don't have a landslide victory, and unlike you guys, I'm not in politics just for the power."

 

          "If this goes badly," Empek warned,  "My superiors will be very displeased with me, and if that happens, I will be very displeased with you."

 

          Durant suddenly hated this man, this idiot who believed he understood better than him how to run his game.  John Durant was top of his class at the academy, a captain at thirty-two, an Admiral just ten years later.  He was doing the Orion Syndicate a favor by allowing them a chance at true influence in the Federation.  This bastard who could do little more than twist some arms would realize very quickly that he'd underestimated Jonathan Durant.

 

          "You'll see, Empek.  The day I take office, I want to hear you repeat all the reasons why this decision was a mistake.  By then, you'll have realized exactly how wrong you are."

 

          "If that day comes," Empek said quietly,  "Then I assure you, I *will* own up to my mistakes.  *My* judgement is not clouded by misplaced pride."

 

          With those words, the conversation was abruptly terminated.

 

          Empek chose the time to leave, and Durant began to mull over a few private thoughts.  He smiled at one point with some hidden knowledge.  His abrupt shift in mood seemed to surprise Tondra, and her lips quirked into a slight smile of her owm.

 

          "You seem fairly cheerful," she noted.  "You are that confident this will succeed?"

 

          "Well, yes I'm confident about it... but I was actually thinking of something else entirely," Durant replied smoothly, rising to his feet to grab a drink from the counter.

 

          "Something else?"

 

          "Or should I say, someone else." He clutched his Saurian Brandy and gazed out the view port into space.  His expression was suddenly sinister, his eyes glittering.  "I've been contemplating just what to do with my wayward wife, once I get my hands on her."  Unconsciously fingering the spot of his recent injury, he looked darkly towards the bedroom, and his lips twisted into a queer, unsettling smile.  "Oh, but she'll regret it."  He nodded to himself, raising the bottle to his lips, and muttered quietly,  "God help me, I'll make her regret it."

 

 

 

Chapter Nine

 

          As time dragged on, Kathryn found herself growing increasingly tired.  Chakotay already slumbered in the pilot's seat, but Kathryn was disinclined to rest in the seat next to him again.  Her neck still had a kink from her earlier nap in the uncomfortable chair.

 

          She searched the small vessel and located two makeshift bunks in the back room.  She stretched herself out on the bottom one and drifted into an uneasy sleep.

 

          After an interminable period of time, she was awoken by a vague rumbling sensation.  Janeway lay there with her eyes closed, desiring sleep, reluctant to face another trial.  She tried to identify the sensation.  The ship's trembling was too soft for weapon's fire, too pronounced for mere turbulence.  A tractor beam?

 

          Kathryn opened her eyes and saw a large Bajoran glowering down at her.

 

          She felt little surprise; truthfully, it had taken them longer to catch her than she'd expected.  She just wished she'd thought of something more compelling to say than her simple,  "Please don't hurt him."

 

          The Bajoran grunted.  She wasn't sure how to interpret his reply as he grasped her under the arm with a gloved fist and yanked her out of the bunk.  He pulled her around and with a firm shove propelled her towards the navigational pit.  Janeway followed his directives uneasily.

 

          They emerged into the navigational pit, and she saw on the view screen a small vessel holding Chakotay's ship with a tractor beam.  Two men already had Chakotay on the floor, one pinning down each arm.  A third seemed to be in charge of the situation, and he looked over towards Janeway as she entered.  Chakotay raised his head to see as well, and Janeway felt a knot in her throat when she saw his face, pummeled and bloody.

 

          "Are they the only two onboard?"  the leader asked the Bajoran gripping Janeway's arm.

 

          "Yes.  I conducted a thorough search."

 

          The leader, a large Orion male, raked his eyes over her coldly for a moment before asking,  "Did he assault her?"

 

          "No," Janeway answered.  "He didn't."

 

          They ignored her as though she were mute.  The man next to her grasped her pants around the waist and yanked them down to her knees.  Janeway focused on the floor, humiliated, while he wriggled a finger into her.  At the bottom of her vision, she could see her pale and gangly legs trembling in the cold air of the shuttle like the limbs of a scared child.  She felt sick knowing that Chakotay was watching this.

 

          "Doesn't feel like it," the man said gruffly.  He pulled her pants back up with a firm jerk.

 

          "That's fortunate," the Orion said, turning to glare down at the man on the floor,  "For you.  If you'd assaulted Admiral Durant's wife," he said slowly, "I would have severed your genitals and choked you with them."

 

          Chakotay looked up at the Orion through one angry, glittering eye, the other too swollen for sight.  His voice was jagged as he said,  "I would never hurt her.  I have respect for a woman's dignity, unlike you *assholes*--"

 

          The Orion's foot swung out and connected brutally with Chakotay's jaw.  A pained cry tore from his lips, and his head jerked sideways.  He seemed to slump down, disoriented.  Janeway, in a sudden rage, almost ripped forward to defend her friend.  She caught herself.  Cold reason stayed her charge.  Chakotay might still have a chance to escape this alive.  But if she gave her feelings away now...

 

          Gods.  Her next words could determine whether he'd live or die.

 

          She cleared her throat to catch the leader's attention.  "Excuse me, Mister--"  she paused, uncertain what to call him.  The Orion glanced over at her as though she were some fly, daring to speak.

 

          "Don't worry, we'll get around to you, too, Janeway."

 

          She ignored him.  "Listen, you've found us.  Please, you have me.  He's no threat to you, why don't you just forget about him--"

 

          "You asking me to let him go?  Preposterous!"  His eyes narrowed into small slits.  "I don't want your advice, Janeway.  You would be well advised to remain silent."

 

          Janeway felt suddenly desperate, fearful.  "He was a Maquis," her voice trembled somewhat as she spoke.  Her nightmare was coming true.  No, she couldn't lose Chakotay, not after all of this.   "He was a Maquis," she said again,  "And he still has friends.  They'd be very angry if he were killed--"

 

          "Maquis," the Orion scoffed, glancing down at Chakotay with undisguised contempt.  "The Dominion obliterated the Maquis years ago.  They have no influence."  He looked up again to scrutinize her expression.  "You seem rather upset at the prospect of his death, Admiral Janeway.  You're fond of the man who abducted you?"

 

          She knew he was trying to pry something out of her, and she steeled her expression.  "It's nothing personal.  I just hate violence.  Please.  I don't want anyone else to die on my account."

 

          He sneered at that.  "Such a humanitarian!"  He looked down at Chakotay again.  "Oh, don't worry.  He has some time yet.  We have quite a few questions for Mr. Chakotay here, don't we?"  The Orion pressed his foot under Chakotay's chin and nudged the disoriented man's head up.  "We'd like to know how this little abduction came about... We wouldn't want to rely on the good Admiral's word alone."

 

          Janeway bowed her head, her heart pounding, a sense of hopelessness washing over her.  It was too late.  They were going to kill him.  They were going to torture and then kill him, and it was her fault.  There was no way to save him.  Everything she'd tried, everything she'd done, for nothing.  She was going to be Durant's slave for the rest of her days, and Chakotay... her love, her life was going to be dead.

 

          She was too desolate for tears.  For anything.  She stood there, staring at the ground, hearing the voices buzz around her, trying not to look at her violently abused friend.

 

          The voices suddenly grew loud, reached a crescendo, and Janeway looked up sharply to see what they were shouting about.  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a bright flash, and when she looked over, she saw the ship that had been holding Chakotay's in a tractor beam bursting into a large ball of flames.

 

          Her breath left her, her heart pounding violently in her ears again.  Hope?  Could there be a chance?

 

          "Return fire!" the Orion hissed at one of his subordinates, and the lackey tapped futilely at the console before pounding his fist on it.

 

          "I can't!"

 

          Chakotay's ship abruptly rocked from the unknown attacker's phaser fire.

 

          "Imbecile!"  the Orion roared, lancing forward and ripping his lackey from the controls.  "I'll do it myself--"

 

          "The control panel's encrypted!"  the subordinate shouted, and the Orion shortly discovered the same thing.  Disbelief crossed his face.  Janeway suddenly felt a smug satisfaction, proud of Chakotay despite her earlier irritation at the very same safety measure.

 

          The ship rocked violently again, nearly sending Janeway to the floor, and raining sparks from a control panel behind her head.

 

          The Orion leader staggered away from the console and swept over to Chakotay, grasping the half-conscious man by his collar and jerking him up to glare into his face.  "What's the encryption--"

 

          He never finished his sentence.  The blue light of a transporter beam enveloped him.  His subordinates disappeared with him.

 

          Janeway stood there, hearing her own breathing in the now nearly-empty shuttle.  After a beat, she rushed over to Chakotay.  He was a mess.  One eye was swollen shut; his nose looked to have been broken.  There was dry, caked blood around it and a gash in his cheek.  Kathryn could see that his lips were swollen, and the hint of blood at their corners told her that they might have knocked loose a few teeth.

 

          "Chakotay?"  she whispered, and she raised a hand to gingerly cup his cheek.  Even that slight touch hurt him, and he winced.  Janeway recoiled quickly, afraid to touch him.

 

          "Kathryn?" his voice was thick and slurred, his jaw heavy.

 

          "Chakotay, it's going to be okay.  They're gone now.  Someone--" she looked towards the view screen uncertainly, an unfamiliar ship hovering near them.  "Someone helped us." 

 

          "M' sorry," he slurred.  "Didn't detect them until they--"

 

          "It's not your fault," Kathryn said.

 

          He tried to sit up a little, but she put her hands gingerly on his shoulders to ease him back down.  "Careful."

 

          "Kathryn...  Who were those people?  What did they want?" he asked through gasps of breath.

 

          Janeway's mouth felt suddenly dry.  "Chakotay, I'm going to go in back and grab a dermal regenerator.  And we have to contact that ship.  We may have to get you to a hos--" she started to stand up, but his hand locked around her arm with surprising strength and pulled her back down.

 

          "Kathryn--" His dark eye locked sharply upon her, and he seemed suddenly threatening despite his physical state.  "*Do not* dodge the question."

 

          She looked away from him, reaching up to try to pry his fingers from her arm.  "Chakotay, you need medical care."

 

          "Later!" he growled, gritting his teeth as he struggled to sit up again, this time successfully.  He was out of breath when he propped his back against the wall, and clearly in a good deal of pain.  Chakotay's bruising grip on her arm held her in place.  His voice was exasperated.  "Damn it, Kathryn, we nearly--"

 

          "Hello?"  A familiar voice called from outside the cockpit.

 

          Janeway turned to see Tom Paris enter the room.

 

          Paris looked slightly older than she remembered.  He had a shadow of a beard and a confident set of his shoulders.  There was a little less mischief in his eyes, a little more austerity in his expression.  She knew instantly that this man was a far cry from the immature helmsman she remembered.

 

          She realized her mouth was hanging open, and she quickly recovered his composure.  Chakotay was smiling with strained lips as he said,  "About time you came, Paris."

 

          "What can I say.  Heavy traffic," Paris replied with a smirk.  His eyes fell on Janeway, and though he seemed unsurprised by her presence, there was shock in his eyes as he took in her exterior.  His voice lacked its usual cockiness as he murmured,  "Long time no see, Admiral."

 

          She nodded warily.  "It's good to see you, Tom."  She threw a glance at Chakotay, still propped up against the wall, and quickly gestured for Tom to come over.  "Tom, Chakotay's hurt."

 

          Paris dug in back of a console for a med kit, and Janeway moved aside so Paris could take her place next to Chakotay.  He whipped the dermal regenerator across Chakotay's various wounds and abrasions with startling precision and skill.

 

          Janeway sat there watching, feeling useless and somewhat awkward.  She sensed that Tom was privy to everything Chakotay was, and she felt uncomfortable knowing that the two men had communicated without her knowledge.

 

          "So, that's your ship?" Janeway asked uncertainly, attempting to break the thick silence, glancing out towards the unfamiliar craft that had rescued them from their captors.

 

          "That's right," Paris said proudly, his bright blue eyes flickering up briefly.  "A beauty, isn't she?  That baby's the product of three best-selling holonovels."

 

          Chakotay grunted once as Paris nudged his torso, and Tom quickly raised an instrument to knit his broken ribs.

 

          "I'm surprised you found us," Janeway said carefully.  "I didn't realize Chakotay had contacted anyone."

 

          Tom looked at her, his expression carefully neutral.  "Yeah, he sent us something a few hours ago.  It's just lucky for you guys," he gestured around the damaged shuttle,  "that B'Elanna and I were taking the kid out on a joyride just a few sectors away.  A few minutes more, and you might've been toast."

 

          "Tom," Chakotay asked, "What did you do with the men who were in here?  Did you beam them onto your ship?"

 

          "Hell no!" Paris exclaimed.  "You think I'd put that mercenary scum within ten feet of my family?"

 

          "But where else could you have beamed--" Chakotay began, then he understood.  Janeway listened without expression.

 

          "So, what's the story?"  Tom asked, pressing Chakotay's newly healed ribs to make sure they were completely fixed.  "I knew their power signature right away.  Mercenaries.  But why were they here?"

 

          Chakotay looked over at Janeway, and she steeled herself for another session of intrusive questions.

 

          "I think Admiral Janeway was about to tell me."  His gaze was pointed.  The look Tom sent her also bored into her skull.

 

          Janeway rose to her feet, feeling more comfortable looking down on the two men.  She crossed her arms over her chest and stared stubbornly out the view port.

 

          "I don't expect her to answer, of course," Chakotay continued loudly, dark eyes locked on her the whole time.  Tom rose to his feet and hoisted Chakotay up with him.  "No, Admiral Janeway's been stonewalling me this whole time, hasn't she?"

 

          "She has?" Tom asked.

 

          "Yep.  Kathryn has a secret," Chakotay said.

 

          "Must be pretty big," Tom said, his words and intense blue gaze directed more at Kathryn now than Chakotay,  "To attract the attention of those guys.  I'm guessing they're Syndicate?"

 

          Chakotay sent Tom a startled glance.  The sudden hardness in Janeway's eyes gave her away.

 

          Chakotay stared between the two for a few moments, stunned.  Then, "My God, Kathryn, what the hell did you do to get the Orion Syndicate after you?"

 

          She looked down at the floor briefly, then spoke, "You were lucky to survive this, Chakotay.    You might not be so lucky when they come again,"  she glanced at Tom briefly, then back at Chakotay,  "And I assure you, they'll come again."

 

          After a silence, Janeway said,  "Look-- this is my business.  I can take care of it.  I know it's too dangerous to take me back to Deep Space Seven now, but if you just drop me off at the nearest--"

 

          "Like hell we will," Chakotay snapped.  "We're not just going to leave you there."

 

          "I assure you, gentlemen, I'll survive.  It's the two of you I'm worried about--"

 

          "Forget it," Chakotay shot back.

 

          "Admiral..." Tom said, then softer,  "You can trust us.  Tell us what's going on."

 

          Janeway looked between the two implacable men, and her shoulders slumped.  There was no way for her to sway them.  She remembered that look, on Chakotay's face, on Tom's.  It was in the void.  She urged the crew to leave her behind.  They could escape through the wormhole.  She'd destroy it and catch up to them eventually.  She was willing then to condemn herself to exile in the void for the sake of saving her crew and the inhabitants of the void.  But her senior staff refused then the same way they were refusing now.

 

          But no.  Not this time.  There was no third option.  There was no third choice.

 

          Janeway held their gazes, steel in her eyes.  "Let me make one thing clear: I will *never* tell you.  You are wasting my time and yours.  Unless you release me while you still can, you will not live to see the next reunion.  Do you understand?"  Turning to Paris,  "Tom, you have a wife, a child to think about.  Do you want them to die with you?  And Chakotay," she turned back to the older man.  "Are you going to die needlessly for this?"

 

          Chakotay made a decision.  He glanced at Paris and saw the same resolve.

 

          "Tom?" He shot a defiant look at his former captain.  "Kathryn and I will have to board your shuttle.  They know this ship now."

 

          "Sure," Tom replied, glancing at Janeway's unreadable face.

 

          "And maybe you should drop Miral off with someone," Chakotay added.  Grimly,  "This could get very serious."

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER TEN

 

          B'Elanna Torres peered towards the back of the shuttle as Tom steered them away from Starbase 13.  It had been almost five hours since they'd rescued Janeway and Chakotay, and now that Miral was out of danger, B'Elanna felt herself beginning to relax.  She settled in her seat, threw a glance at her husband.  "I'm going to replicate some lunch.  You want some?"

 

          "Nah.  I'm good."  Tom's eyes were intent on the console before him.  She could tell he was still a little anxious about leaving Miral with one of his father's friends on the starbase.

 

          B'Elanna looked again towards the back of the shuttle.  "I'm not sure if I should offer them any.  You think Chakotay or skeletor back there will be in the mood for eating?"

 

          Tom snorted a little at that.   "Oh, come on, B'Elanna, skeletor?"

 

          "She looks like a goddamn corpse, Tom.  You had to see that."

 

          "I did, but if she heard you say that--"

 

          "She won't," Torres reassured him, nudging his shoulder.  "For God's sake, Tom."

 

          He sighed and ran his hand through his thinning hair, casting a glance behind him  "It's just this whole situation.  She didn't say a thing.  She just sat in this cockpit the whole trip to Starbase 13 and never said a word.  I don't know her.  That woman...  I just keep waiting to see the captain. "

 

          "Chakotay will find out," B'Elanna said confidently.  "If you knew him like I know him, Tom..."

 

          He smiled as she rose to her feet and wandered back to the replicator.  She flickered her eyes towards the closed door to the aft compartment.

 

          As if reading her thoughts, Tom spoke,  "To be a fly on that wall..."

 

                                                                                                *        *        *

 

          Chakotay was still staring at her in the unsettling silence.

 

          Kathryn held his stare, her resolve growing stronger with each attempt her three former crewmen made to wrest the truth from her.  If those mercenaries had convinced her of one thing, it was of her need to keep them out of this.  It was simply too dangerous.

 

          She had held to her silence since her initial stiff greeting with Torres.  She'd remain silent until the time came.  They couldn't watch her all the time.  The second they let their guard down-- near a moon, or a starbase-- she'd be gone.  She just prayed the Syndicate didn't catch up with them before that time.

 

          She heard Chakotay sigh across from her.

 

          "Fine."  His voice split the silence in the shuttle.

 

          Kathryn made no move to acknowledge he was talking.  She looked down at the hands twisted together in her lap.

 

          "Fine," Chakotay repeated.  He unwound his large body from the chair and slowly rose to his feet.  Hanging back from her a few paces, he set his broad hands on his hips.  "You won't tell me about what's happening, and I don't accept it.  I don't accept it, but I'll live with it for now."

 

          "How very courteous of you," Janeway drawled, realizing too late that she'd broken her silence.

 

          She watched him cautiously as he stepped away and began to pace, the shuttle light bathing his strong profile in a faint blue.

 

          "But I have to ask you something.  I've wanted to ask you this for a while... It's something I didn't understand at the time, and I still don't understand it now."

 

          Her interest was piqued despite herself.  "What?"

 

          Chakotay turned to face her, and the anger glittering in his eyes took her breath away.  "What was that about?  The night of the reunion.  Why did you do that to me?"

 

          Janeway looked away from the rage and hurt in his eyes, her mind racing over excuses, trying to think of what she could divulge and what she could not.

 

          He must have read her expression, for he said,  "I know there are things you can't tell me.  So don't.  Just explain what was going on inside your head, Kathryn.  I need to know if it meant anything to you or if it was just..." his voice broke off, his expression a rigid mask of control.

 

          "Just what?" Kathryn prompted softly, confusion coloring her voice.

 

          His eyes slipped up to hers, cold and dark.  "Just another one of your games."

 

          "My... games?"

 

          The silence hung thick in the air between them.

 

          She stared at him incredulously; he was serious.  Her shock suddenly veered towards fury.

 

          "*Games?*" Kathryn hissed between clenched teeth.  "Is that what you think I do?  Toy with you?  You think I do this for *fun*?"

 

          His expression hardened.  "Don't you?"

 

          Her mouth bobbed open and closed, disbelieving.

 

          Chakotay scoffed.  "Don't pretend you're oblivious, Kathryn.  You always loved it, didn't you?  Pulling my heart on a string.  One day smiling, the next day freezing up, one day flirting, the next lecturing about protocol.  Was it the only thing you took from us?  Did it give you kicks, Kathryn?"

 

          Kathryn's anger grew into a scalding fury, and she shot to her feet.  "All those years, Chakotay, everything I felt for you, every time I had to grit my teeth when you fucked one alien slut after another, every time I lay there at night *cursing* fate for denying me this one emotion... you write off as a game?" she balled her hand up into a trembling fist at her side to keep from slapping the self-righteous ire from his face.

 

          He drew in a sharp breath to retort, but she wouldn't have it.

 

          "'I know you, Kathryn'," Janeway mocked, shooting his old words back at him.  "My good friend Chakotay, all those years I thought you cared about me, you saw me as a manipulative bitch!"

 

          "Kathryn--"

 

          She staggered back a little, her rage suddenly fading in the face of an overwhelming hurt.  "I loved you.  I always did.  A game... how can you think that?  How can you think I'd do that to you?"

 

          "The night of the reunion, Kathryn!" Chakotay retorted.  "You slept with me.  No, you *made love* with me; everything was going to change between us.  You said you loved me-- and don't deny it... I heard!  You tried to pretend you were asleep, but I heard.  And the next morning you announce you're getting married?  What was that, Kathryn?  What was that if not an *active attempt* to injure me?"

 

          She felt her eyes begin to sting and she fought it back.  "I wasn't trying to hurt you.  It was goodbye.  Don't you see that, Chakotay?  For you, for me-- one time.  We could feel everything, all we'd missed, all we'd lost."  Her voice dropped to a near whisper.  "I thought it would make you happy."

 

          "Happy?" Chakotay sputtered.  "Kathryn, you *shattered* me."

 

          Kathryn saw raw pain in his eyes, the trembling of his hands, and the words died on her lips.  She found her eyes riveted to his pain-filled expression in morbid fascination.

 

          "I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, I couldn't do anything but think about you...  Have you ever had your heart broken?  Had it ripped from your chest and tossed away like a piece of garbage?" he looked over at her, his eyes shining with his tears.  "No, you haven't.  And you can't imagine it.  You can't know what it's like.  It's horrible, Kathryn.  It's like a living death."

 

          *A living death.*

 

          *My God.*

 

          "I tried to move on after that, God knows how I did, but everywhere I went I saw your face, I heard your voice.  Women were nothing more than ghosts next to you.  Before the reunion I finally had my life back together, but after you did that, after that night, it was over.  It felt utterly meaningless.  One place, another, they were all the same.  They were all empty."

 

          Her anger was draining away, into another emotion much more devastating.  His terrible words whirled through her mind;  the night she'd seen as a lifeline, he saw as a curse.  For so long, she'd seen it as the one taste of sweetness, the single expression of love for him before she entered her own living death.  That night had been wonderful, pure.  It was supposed to be a gift.  Every terrible moment she'd drawn comfort from the memory, joy from the elusive moment.  And the whole time, this act that gave her such pleasure, had given him this terrible anguish.  Oh God, she hadn't meant to do that.

 

          "I loved you for so long, Kathryn," Chakotay said jaggedly.  "I would have sold my soul for you.  I could live before that night without thinking of you every day, every minute, and then... to come so close and then to lose it again..." His voice as bitter when he said,  "I wish it had never happened.  You-- one night, that night ruined me."

 

          Kathryn stared at Chakotay with horror, the anguish on his face, the defeat in his shoulders, and she was sick-- sick and ashamed.  How could this have happened?  How could she have misread his feelings so drastically?  It wasn't supposed to be this way.  She didn't mean to do this to him.  She never wanted to hurt him.  She hugged her arms around herself, fighting her terrible self-loathing.

 

          She thought of the days, then.  All those times she'd comforted himself with the thought of him-- bent over with the nausea from Durant's poison, stretched out on the medical bed after Empek's beatings, smiling to faceless reporters, speaking lies, fleeing her friends, forgetting her family-- Chakotay.  The thought of that night.  And that night she'd given him this corrosive venom.  She'd never seen him this way, looking this way, sounding this way.

 

          Her brief memories of pleasure shattered under the terrible new knowledge.

 

          She sank down mindlessly to the floor, kneeling, her truths exposed as lies, her love shown to be malice.  She killed everyone she loved, destroyed everything she held close; and Chakotay, dear Chakotay, Gods what she'd done to him...  She'd looked to the one light for so long and it was the light of his torment.  And she loved him?  And she did this because she loved him?

 

          *You ruined me.*

 

          It had happened again!  She'd poisoned Durant for this, but the whole time, it was not Durant who suffered from her poison but Chakotay.  She had done this to him.  She put the pain in his eyes, she put the scar on his soul.

 

          She'd been a fool.  A damn fool.  Now where was she?  Trapped in a shuttle?  Trying to return to her own living death?  She had to go back to Durant now, and she wouldn't have Chakotay to comfort her.  He was gone.  She'd destroyed it.  She deserved Durant. What had she been thinking? How could she have been so blind?

 

          She'd lost.  She'd tried so hard to prevent Durant from hurting Chakotay, and she ended up harming Chakotay in his stead.  That was it.  This was over.  It was all over.

 

          Chakotay might have been speaking to her from a distance, and she felt a hand on her arm; she stumbled back from it, on her feet, against the wall.  She wasn't entirely sure where she was, what she was doing.  Who stood in front of her? or was she dreaming?

 

          Her mouth started moving without her volition.  "I didn't mean it to happen that way.  I didn't.  I never meant to hurt you... You have to believe me, it was different, it was supposed to be--" Her voice broke off, and the blood drained from her face.  "I just didn't want to kill them all, but I fucked that up, didn't I?  Fucked it all up."

 

          Kathryn laughed a little wildly.  "Fuck, in the quarters... that wasn't supposed to happen.  Durant... maybe if I'd had time to prepare... But how do you prepare for that? I should have expected it, I know, I *knew* it was going to happen any day, and it would have been the last blow, but-I-just-couldn't..." her voice broke, and she felt him step towards her.  She ripped away, back again.

 

          Kathryn felt the tears running down her face, and she ducked her head from his gaze.  "You must think I'm terrible.  And it's true!  If they could see this now, Seska, Braxton, they'd be right.  This is what they saw in me, wasn't it? But sometimes..."

 

          She turned back to him, a little confused.  Was he still there? Had he left?

 

          "Sometimes... I think that if I can't escape--just for a while, just for a short time, if I can't get away for a short time I'll die, or I'll tear my hair from my head, scratch my skin into shreds-- and I do, sometimes... and the freedom, going out there, anywhere I want, it makes my head spin and I feel like I'm living...  But that's when I realize I have nowhere to go.  I can't go *anywhere*.  I have no one left.  He's done this to me and now he's all I have.  He's my entire world.  He made sure of it."

 

          She could see him, staring at her, shock and fear on his face, and it suddenly was absurdly funny.  She laughed, an unpleasant, hysterical cackle.

 

          "You think I'm crazy, don't you?  It's so easy for you to say, for all of you to say-- Old Janeway's finally lost it.  Lost her goddamn mind. I guess it's been a long time coming.  But you can't understand.  How could you?  They're watching me *everywhere,* hearing *everything.*  Everything I think, everything I feel.  Sometimes I think they have eyes in my brain--" she drew her hands up and raked her fingers across her scalp, agitated, "I think they're watching my thoughts... neural synapses, electrical impulses...  Are they even safe?"

 

          Her frantic energy faded a bit, and she felt strangely exhausted and drained as she continued disjointedly, "All I can do when I escape is try to go where people are, strangers, faceless.  Alcohol helps, but then they smell you and it gets bad.  They seem to find me-- predators, I mean-- everywhere I go now... they can tell just looking at you.  It's like they tag you and the others find you anywhere, sniff you out like a carcass.  Sometimes I wish they'd kill me, and then it wouldn't be my fault.  None of it would be my fault anymore.  It would be out of my hands." 

 

          Her body shook with a sudden, violent sob, and her hands locked over her face.  The ground rushed at her suddenly, and then she was suspended midair.  Through the cage of her fingers she could see whirling gray.  Where had he gone?  Maybe he was near her, or by the door, she couldn't tell now.  She couldn't move.  She felt something, a rope, a chain around her arms, around her neck, and she thought maybe Durant had found her and she thrashed against it madly.  Or maybe Empek.  Something soft.  She clawed at it ferociously, sunk her teeth into it.

 

          "Tom!"

 

          Tom?  Tom who?  Tom Paris?  Tom Thumb?  She giggled at the thought, lurching away, and when she felt the cool metal pressing against her neck, her thoughts blurred and she played tag with her sister as a child.  she'd (phoebe) cheated.  "That's not fair..." katie whined and the world blackened and died.

 

                                                                                                *        *        *

 

          "Chakotay?"

 

          The older man did not say anything.  He had a fist pressed over his mouth; he was slumped on the floor, his back to the console, his eyes wide and haunted.

 

          "Chakotay?" Tom called again softly.

 

          Chakotay looked at him, utterly shocked and numbed.  Paris reached out and gently took the older man's hand, turning it over to heal the teeth marks and the scratches.  B'Elanna hovered at the doorway, as baffled as Paris was.  She knelt down by Janeway's limp form, checking briefly to make sure she was all right.

 

          "What was that?" B'Elanna asked softly.

 

          Chakotay was staring at Janeway, looking almost shell-shocked.  Blinking.

 

          Tom caught B'Elanna's eyes and shook his head briefly.  She nodded.  He shook his head again, looking meaningfully towards Chakotay.  She disregarded his advice and whipped her sharp, brown eyes towards the cockpit.  Paris shook his head again, and she socked him on the arm, hard.  The blonde pilot shot up and raised his hands in surrender.  He reached down, scooped up Janeway, and closed the door behind him.

 

          B'Elanna lowered herself onto the floor across from Chakotay while he sat there, silent and expressionless.  She watched him carefully, waiting.  After an interminable period of time, his expression crumpled, his eyes squeezed shut, and B'Elanna reached forward to take him into her arms as his shoulders shook with silent tears.

 

          She knew later he'd be embarrassed.  In other circumstances, he would swallow it like he always did.  But so much was happening for him.  She'd seen it in his eyes.

 

          "B'Elanna," he whispered raggedly.

 

          "It's okay, Chakotay," she whispered into his hair, stroking his back.

 

          "I've never seen her like that.  I never wanted to see her like that."

 

          "It'll be fine, Chakotay."

 

          "She was insane, B'Elanna.  And what she said-- what if she's that way when she wakes, if she's snapped?"

 

          "Shh."

 

          Torres held him stroking his back.  He stiffened.  "Where is she?"

 

          "Tom has her, in the cockpit."

 

          Chakotay pulled back, began to rise.  Torres followed him into the cockpit.

 

          She found her husband crouched by one the chairs, reclined down, Janeway lying there sedated.  Chakotay's expression was stormy, but it seemed to ease a little when Tom shot him a smile.

 

          "Look, Chakotay," Paris said, rising to his feet, snapping the tricorder shut.  "It looks like she hasn't had a good night's sleep in months, she's severely malnourished, she's stressed as hell, and God knows what she'd hiding from us.  I'm guessing you two had a tense moment.  So she flipped out on you.  It happens to all of us from time to time, maybe not as severe, but hey, with all the crap she's probably going through-- She's not insane, it's nothing permanent, so relax, big guy."

 

          Torres watched Chakotay's shoulders slowly begin to sag in relief.

 

          "There are things... things she said," Chakotay said softly.  He stared blankly, seemingly caught in some private thought.  Then, looking up at Tom,  "Is there.. anything you can give her?  Something for anxiety, or what not?"

 

          "I'm not a psychiatrist.  I'm guessing all she needs is a good night's sleep," Tom said, then his eyes slipped over to Chakotay.  "And so do you.  No offense, but you look like shit."

 

          Chakotay shot him a severe look, then turned brusquely towards the back room.  "Tell me the minute she wakes up."

 

          "Sure, sure," Paris said quickly.

 

          Torres watched Chakotay leave, then glanced wryly at her husband.  "'No offense, but you look like shit'?  So tactful, helmboy."

 

          Paris gave her a helpless shrug.

 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

 

 

          Chakotay was already holding out a steaming mug of coffee when she finally stirred.  Kathryn stared at him blankly a moment, confusion clouding her face, and as he studied her intently with concerned black eyes, he felt a prick of fear at the bewilderment in her expression.  *If she's still not lucid...*   He felt relieved, and then sympathetic when embarrassment suddenly flooded her features.  Chakotay wordlessly pressed the coffee against her flaccid hand, and she took it automatically as she pulled herself stiffly up.

 

          "Thanks," Kathryn murmured, her voice hoarse, her eyes fallen to the ground.  She raised it to her lips for a generous sip, and color slowly returned to her cheeks.  Chakotay watched in silence until she looked ready to talk.

 

          When she began to mutter an apology for her behavior, Chakotay waved her off.  "It doesn't matter, Kathryn.  I understand."  He let the silence hang between them, somehow already aware that she'd break the silence he'd just begun to crack.  He didn't have to wait long.

 

          Janeway still stared bleakly into the mug when she drew in a breath to speak.  "Durant helped us.  All of us, when we first reached Earth.  He secured the freedom of the Maquis, almost single-handedly.  And my freedom.  He persuaded the Committee of Ethics to rule in my favor, and he averted the court martial...  I owed him a great deal."

 

          Chakotay was silent a moment after her words, before prompting gently, "Is that why you married him?"

 

          "No."  She shook her head for emphasis, and Chakotay settled back on the bunk across from hers as she continued,  "We were just friends, well, little more than acquaintances.  I honestly didn't see it coming.  I knew he had these... ridiculous political views-- comical, really-- but I had no idea just how far he wanted to take them.  I wouldn't have-- well, that doesn't matter now.

 

          "At some point, I suspected he had some sort of romantic interest, and he confirmed it eventually... but that was the other lie."  Her expression was dark.  "They were all lies.  When he realized he couldn't manipulate me, he partnered with the Orion Syndicate to force me.  They killed my family, they threatened to kill the rest of you.  And he could do it.  Jenny, Tal, Mortimer..."

 

          "But Kathryn, that was a virus--" Chakotay began patiently.

 

          "No!"  Janeway's eyes blazed into his, slanted and enraged.  "No.  There was no virus."  Her voice was bitter and caustic.  "It was just a convenient device.   A good one, at that.  Don't you realize that 'latent retro-virus' could easily spring back to life and migrate to the rest of the crew, should it meet my beloved husband's whim?  That's why they used it.  It was the perfect cover."

 

          "What does he want from you?" Chakotay's mind whirled with her terrible words. 

 

          She shrugged, her expression suddenly bleak and unfeeling, seemingly emotionally shredded to the point that the turmoil barely touched her.  "It's just name recognition.  Politics is about name recognition.  He made me into something greater than I was-- the Medal of Honor, the promotion, the publicity..."  At the surprise and Chakotay's face, a mirthless smile twisted across her lips.  "You truly believed they'd hand me those honors after the Equinox?  After the Temporal Prime Directive?  And even if they did....  You actually believed I was such a publicity hound at heart?"

 

          "I didn't know what to believe," he confessed, holding her eyes with his dark ones.  "Kathryn...  I just didn't understand any of it.  We returned, and I had so much to work out in my own life.  And then after the reunion.."

 

          Janeway spoke on dully, "He arranged it all, and he rode on my reputation into the spotlight.  Now he's running for president, and it looks like he'll win."  She glanced towards the viewing screen with a jaundiced eye.  "God help us all."

 

          "And what did he want you to do?" Chakotay asked softly.  The question seemed to surprise her, and her air of indifference suddenly faltered.

 

          "I-- just have to play a role.  Be a wife.  Smile for a holocamera.  Some days I'm better than others."

 

          "Does he hurt you?"

 

          "Only when I bring it on myself."  Kathryn must have seen the appalled look on his face, for she quickly added,  "I know I don't deserve it of course-- I haven't bought into that mentality, if that's what you're assuming, Commander.  I simply mean I know how to avoid it, but I have my slip ups."

 

          "How do you slip up?"

 

          "If I leave when I'm not supposed to, when I speak outside the directed parameters, if I talk to Admiral Paris or basically anyone I care about-- ever."

 

          "Am I one of those people?"  Chakotay asked, suddenly understand her behavior.  Maybe she'd been forbidden to see him...

 

          "No."

 

          Chakotay felt hurt by this statement, and almost laughed at how ridiculous the feeling was.  Of course it should be a good thing that he wasn't suspected...  But if no one saw anything truly there between he and Kathryn...  She hadn't been forbidden from his company, yet she still avoided him all those months...

 

          She must have read the look in his eyes, because her hand darted out and clasped his dark one, and she held his gaze intently with her own.  "Chakotay, I took every step to make sure you *weren't* one of those people.  Don't you realize that's why I avoided you?  If Durant knew about you and I..." she hesitated.  "If he knew about what we had for that night, or what we'd felt, you would have lived under the same sword I did, if he hadn't murdered you outright."

 

          "I understand, Kathryn.  I do."  And he tried to make himself understand.  "I just wish you could have trusted me to watch my own back.  I wasn't a Maquis fugitive for nothing."

 

          She smiled fondly, her eyes sad.  "No, I guess you weren't."  Kathryn's gaze slipped around the shuttle.  "Who else could pull a stunt like this?"  She was silent a moment, then suddenly her face was grave.  "You're insane to go through with this, you know."

 

          "I know."  He paused.  "That's what friends are for.  Insane acts." His smile crinkled the sides of his eyes.

 

          Something changed in her expression suddenly, in her eyes.  A new softness stole about them, a warmth that made the back of Chakotay's neck prickle.

 

          "You've been a good friend to me, Chakotay," Kathryn breathed softly.  "Not many people would have been there for me after my behavior."

 

          "I understand why you acted--"

 

          "No," she cut in, her finger suddenly pressed to his lips as her appreciative eyes bore into his.  "No, don't say anything to change it.  You were a good friend to me, and I want to-- I have yet to return the favor.  I haven't let you know how much it means to me."

 

          Her eyes were intent upon him, and he felt the electricity in her gaze as she drew imperceptibly closer.  Chakotay was caught in the turmoil of emotions-- disbelief... was she going to kiss him?  And suddenly fear.

 

          He jerked back away from her, wincing at the blatant action on his own part, and he thought for a second he saw hurt flicker in her eyes before she offered him an uneasy smile and looked away.

 

          "Well, I guess we understand each other now," she said in a low voice, still not looking at him.

 

          Chakotay couldn't say anything immediately.  The situation was too confused, too muddled.

 

          "I--" he fumbled.  "No, not quite.  You haven't explained everything."  She looked up questioningly.  "You haven't told me what happened the other day, with Durant.  How you ended up on my doorstep."

 

          He immediately saw her withdraw, her face shuttering, her form tensing.  He reached out and clamped his hands over her thin shoulders, his fingers digging into her skin harder than he had intended, as though he hoped the pain would hold her back from her retreat.

 

          "Don't shut down on me now!"

 

          Her cheeks had paled, and he could see that she was embarrassed, morbidly embarrassed.  He shook her lightly.  "Kathryn?"

 

          Kathryn's hands flew to his, urging his hands from her shoulders.  "Chakotay-- you're hurting me--"

 

          He released her abruptly, and she recoiled from him.  Chakotay leaned closer, inching towards her retreating form, pausing only when she held up a spindly hand to mollify him.

 

          "I'll tell you," she said.  "It's just--"

 

          "Just what?"

 

          Kathryn didn't elaborate on that line of thought.  She jerked to her feet and prowled to the other side of the shuttle, her entire body emanating something along the lines of rage and distress.

 

          She finally whirled and shot it all out.  "He wants to have a baby."

 

          "A baby?"  Chakotay echoed.  "With you?"  *Stupid question,* he berated himself.  "Of course with you."

 

          She shot him a dubious look before continuing,  "He's made appointments at fertility clinics, and I've always dodged them.  He grew sick of waiting, so he decided to do the work himself."  She stared darkly at the ground.  "I don't remember much of what happened.  He drugged me at the reception, I attacked him, I found you.  The details... they just aren't there."

 

          The implications of her words staggered him.  He rubbed his fingers over his mouth, thinking back to that reception with a rather ill pit in his stomach-- he'd seen her exhaustion.  He simply hadn't thought anything of it...

 

          "My God..."  He thought of Durant then, swaggering about the reception like he owned the universe-- a man with a plan.  A bastard who had to trample a woman to conquer his world.  That whole reception, greeting dignitaries, smiling, he'd just been waiting...

 

          Chakotay was suddenly pissed, brimming with anger at Durant, and at her.

 

          "And you wanted me to send you back to that man?" Chakotay flared up.  "Good God, Kathryn, the bastard tries to rape you and you're simply going to march back into his custody?"

 

          "He's done worse," she muttered.

 

          "And what the hell difference does that make?" he smoldered.  "You should have come to me the minute he hurt-- no, you should have come to me the second he even *threatened* you."

 

          "Chakotay, you know why I--"

 

          "Because you wanted to *protect me,*" he sneered as he said the words.  "Well, Goddamn it, Kathryn, did it ever occur to you to give me the choice whether I wanted to be protected?  You were my commanding officer, my best friend-- If I'd been in a life threatening situation, wouldn't you have wanted to know?"  She looked down away from his hard gaze, and he threw his hands into the air in exasperation.  "And you've been trying to manipulate me into returning you for the last two days without even telling me the situation--"

 

          "Well now you know the situation!" Janeway erupted, her patience frayed.  "Now you know.  So cut the fucking diatribe and take me back!"

 

          Chakotay laughed suddenly, disbelieving.  "It's just like you to pound the same note even after you know I'm not going to follow it!  There isn't a chance in hell I'm returning you after this."

 

          "Chakotay," her voice was shaking now, clearly on the verge of hysteria.  "You know what will happen, you know what he'll do to you, to all of us.  How can you possibly-- now that you know...  He'll think I ran away.  He'll kill them because he'll think I ran away."

 

          "No, he won't."

 

          That stopped her suddenly.

 

          An unsettling smile twisted across his lips, and he reached back to brutally jab his finger at the controls of the viewer.  The screen lit up, and she watched his fingers dance across the controls, frequency after frequency slipping across the screen.

 

          "What station do you want, Kathryn?"  he demanded harshly.  "It's on every single one of them."

 

          "What's on?  What the hell are you talking about?"

 

          Chakotay settled on one, and he saw the horror on her face when she saw an image of herself looking back as the news reporter related the horrifying saga of the kidnapped Admiral Janeway.

 

          As she watched, her face went deathly pale, and her hand rose slowly to cover her own mouth.  She slumped back against the wall, staring in disbelief at the channel.

 

          "How can they--" her voice was ragged and died quickly.  He watched her, feeling dark turmoil rage within him.  She managed,  "How can they say that?  You would never kidnap me."

 

          "Kathryn," Chakotay said with a cynical smile.  "I *did* kidnap you."

 

           "That's not what I mean," Her voice was shaking with anger.  "How can they say that you--"  She stopped, her eyes suddenly intent with a train of thought.

 

          "The Syndicate thugs clearly believed I kidnapped you-- the impromptu cavity exam, remember?" Kathryn's face flushed, and though they had not spoken a word of it, he knew it was humiliating for her to think about.  "The news stations are claiming I kidnapped you.  Not one word on the air about tragic deaths of any of the celebrity survivors of Voyager-- so clearly there have been no reprisals for your actions."  He watched the dawning understanding over her face.  "You know why, Kathryn?  Because as far as they are concerned-- as far as Durant and Empek know-- I *did* kidnap you.  Which means--"

 

          "--which means, as long as they don't catch us," Janeway cut in suddenly, her eyes glinting with a new light, her expression both delighted and malicious.  "Everyone is safe."

 

          "Exactly."

 

          "And we have time to form a plan."

 

          "Right again."

 

          Janeway flashed him a grin, suddenly alive with an energy he remembered from days long passed.  "And all it cost was your reputation," she added, on a note both playful and aggressive.

 

          The sting of the barb was only mild, because Chakotay suddenly felt as though a great weight had been lifted from his chest.  The pressing fear about his new fugitive status, looming in the back of his mind from the moment Torres shook him awake with the alarming news, mounting as he waited for Kathryn to regain consciousness, all but disappeared. 

 

          As her eyes glinted dangerously into his own, he felt the old electricity in the air.  Janeway and Chakotay, locked in the same line of thought, engaged in the same dilemma, working together again with the same energy and resourcefulness that had forged their way through the Delta Quadrant.  They'd defeated the Hirogen, outsmarted the Devore, overcome the peril of the Borg.  And after a long absence, the formidable duo was back in business.

 

          Jonathan Durant had no chance.

 

          "My reputation for all of our lives," Chakotay said wryly.  "I think I can handle that."

 

          Janeway reached out and clasped his hand firmly in her own, gratitude and determination written on her face.

 

          But strongest of all-- hatred.

 

 

CHAPTER TWELVE

 

          “Might as well have summoned the whole crew,” Janeway muttered, her arms crossed stiffly over her chest as she watched Seven and the Doctor approach from the distance.

 

          Chakotay said nothing in reply, clearly puzzled at Kathryn’s strange resistance to requesting Seven of Nine and the Doctor’s help.

 

          Admiral Janeway’s ‘kidnapping’ had stretched out nearly six days now, and Tom Paris’s beleagured vessel had just taken refuge in the nook of an abandoned Federation base.  The four comrades had been waiting for the other two former members of Voyager’s crew to arrive, passing the time by attempting to formulate some sort of plan.  Each idea led to a dead end.  Every off-handed suggestion was batted down as quickly as it was proposed.  Frustration was slowly mounting.

 

          They knew John Durant had two main strengths: the general public revered him, and the Orion Syndicate supported him.  They could do nothing directly against Durant-- nothing to attack his public image, nothing to attack the man himself-- without bringing the ire of the Syndicate upon them.  They had to be subtle; their hand would have to be invisible in whatever the outcome of this deadly game.  Their most important move would be severing Durant’s ties with the Syndicate.  Without the Syndicate, Durant was simply another man.  The question was, how would they go about breaking those bonds? 

 

          If they attacked Durant’s public image, made Durant too costly and dire a connection for the Syndicate to maintain, the crime organization could still turn around and destroy Janeway and the crew in retaliation for spoiling their investment.  The only acceptable course of action was to poison Durant in the eyes of the Syndicate, destroy his credibility and undermine his friendship, without showing any sign they‘d been the ones to do it.

 

          “Turncoats,” Paris suggested during one discussion.  “If I learned one thing in prison, it was that all criminals hate turncoats.  Snitches.”

 

          “Durant’s not a turncoat,” Chakotay pointed out.

 

          “But we can make it look like he is,” Paris replied, his blue eyes intent as he gestured with a careless hand wave.  “We can plant something, or inform a friend of a friend of a friend that Durant‘s got something going down that the boys at the Syndicate won‘t like.”

 

          At the looks of confusion that met his words, Paris’s jaw hardened with suddenly frustration.  “*Listen*-- the guy has to have something in his past, something about him his partners won’t like, some dirt--”

 

          “His computer,” Janeway interjected suddenly, her eyes locking with Paris’s as she latched upon the helmsman’s line of thought.  “He keeps files on his computer, detailed files.  I don’t think Empek knows about them-- I know he tracks me on them, but I’m sure he also has information about Empek, and probably whatever Syndicate agents he‘s met over the years.  They wouldn‘t be happy if they knew he‘s been keeping those records.”

 

          Paris smiled slightly.  “And they might draw the wrong conclusions from it.”

 

          Chakotay’s brow furrowed into a series of faint lines.  “So... we could use these to convince Empek that Durant is... what?”

 

          “A good Starfleet Officer,” Janeway replied with a faint grin, though her eyes were flinty as steel.  “We could use those files to convince Empek that Durant is a double agent.  He’ll believe that Durant sought out the help of the Syndicate merely so he could spy on them for Starfleet.  If Empek happened to stumble upon Durant‘s spying files in the wrong place... say, in the central computer at Starfleet Command...”

 

          Torres puzzled it out.  “You’re saying that if someone from the Syndicate finds information only Durant could have in the wrong person’s hands, they’ll think Durant’s working against them?” The half-Klingon scowled.  “They’d see right through that.  I know I would.”

 

          “If we could just retrieve the contents of that database,” Janeway said, ignoring the younger woman’s skepticism,  “And if we could implant it with someone involved in intelligence--”

 

          “My father,” Paris offered.  “I could tell him what’s going on, he can pretend he’s working with Durant on this.”

 

          “And the Syndicate surely has connections with top Starfleet brass,” Janeway continued.  “If you can talk to your father, Tom, explain the situation...  We can take Durant’s data on Empek, stick it in Admiral Paris’s database, and hope to hell that someone dirty stumbles upon it.  The only conclusion they can make is that Durant provided this information for Paris, that Durant is working with Paris in some plot to take down the Orion Syndicate from the inside.  They‘ll think Durant was manipulating them.”

 

          “So they kill Durant,” Torres finished for her.  “That’s great.  But won’t they kill your father, Tom?”

 

          Tom Paris shook his head at her worries.  “The Orion Syndicate isn’t just a loose group of criminals.  They’re an organization.  They’ve got codes-- hold to your deal, keep your word, kill your witnesses.  They don’t kill a guy just doing his job unless he’s the one actively deceiving them.  My father wouldn’t be in harm’s way-- they would see him as a guy just doing his duty as an officer.  But Durant would be the one who went out and fucked with them, Durant was the one who played them for fools, and they sure as hell wouldn’t hesitate to kill him.”  Tom took a breath, and his pale blue eyes shifted over to Janeway.  “And they’d kill you, too.”

 

          “I’m a witness,” Janeway agreed softly, understanding.  “I know as much about the Syndicate activities as Durant does.  They‘d perceive me as Durant’s accomplice.”

 

          “Probably.”

 

          Janeway’s lips twisted into a frown, and she stared down with a hard gaze at the floor of the shuttle, her elbows resting upon her knees, brooding over the grim possibilties for the future.  Even if she escaped Durant, the Syndicate would pursue her until the day she died...

 

          “We have to do better than that,” Chakotay stated flatly.

 

          Janeway glanced up at him and held his soulful eyes briefly, warmed by his concern.  “I wish it could be another way,” she said.  “But if death is the risk I’ll have to take to end this nonsense, it’s acceptable.”

 

          It was acceptable.  The crew would be safe.  And Chakotay.

 

          No, not Chakotay.

 

          “What the hell are we going to do about you, Chakotay?” Janeway suddenly asked, glancing up at the surprised faces of the other three, including the man in question‘s.  The four officers had been so caught up in the main dilemma, they hadn’t even considered the future of the man who was now known across the quadrant as a kidnapper and possible murderer.

 

          “I suppose I’ll be a fugitive.”  Chakotay shrugged his large shoulders, offering Kathryn a half-hearted smile that made her suddenly feel terribly guilty.  “I can live with that.  It won’t be the first time.”

 

          She wished she hadn’t dragged him into this.

 

          “I’m so sorry--” Kathryn began quietly.

 

          “It’s fine,” Chakotay replied, putting his hand gently over hers to relieve her of the stricken look on her face.  “Don’t blame yourself for this.”

 

          Kathryn knew it would be no good protesting.  He knew her too well.  She despised herself for putting him in this situation.

 

          So the crew would be safe, Durant would be dead, and she’d have to run.  She’d have to look over her shoulder every day for the rest of her life in hopes the Syndicate wouldn’t find her.  She could live with that.  But she hated that Chakotay would have that same fear, that he’d have to watch out for the authorities anywhere he went .

 

          Maybe she could go public.  Perhaps she could say something to clear his name, either before the Syndicate assassinated her, or before she dissapeared into the woodwork.  She owed him that much.

 

          But then again, worst case scenario, they could become fugitives together.  As selfish as it was, that was not an entirely unappealing prospect to her.  At least she’d be with Chakotay...

 

          Janeway glanced over at him, thinking back to that moment just two days earlier when she’d spoken to him of her debt to him, when she’d expressed her gratitude.  Caught in the moment, she’d almost leaned over and kissed him.  For a moment, just for a moment, she could have sworn she saw something in his eyes...  And then he recoiled from her, as though repulsed.  Or maybe she misinterperted the moment.  Or maybe he despised her.  He had reason to.

 

          It all confused her.

 

          She knew she still loved him.  She had no clue how he felt about her.  Could he possibly stand to embark on that path again, the one that had led him to so much pain and heartbreak in the past?  Would he ever give her a chance again?  If their positions were reversed, Kathryn didn’t know if she could bear it.

 

          Maybe she should back off.  Or maybe she should be more direct.

 

          Her train of though was broken off quite unpleasantly when she heard Chakotay suggest they contact Seven and the Doctor.

 

          *Seven?*  What could he want from her?

 

          “Seven could probably hack into Durant’s computer without being traced and retrieve the data.  She might be the only one who can do it,” Chakotay was saying.

 

          “B’Elanna, *you* couldn’t navigate your way through the system?” Janeway tried to ignore the note of pleading in her voice.  She tried to reason that she didn’t want to involve more crewmembers than were necessary in this, that she had no irrational fear Chakotay would take one look at Seven and suddenly rediscover his old affection for her and all Janeway‘s progress with him would be lost.

 

          “Give me a comptuer to repair and I can do it,” Torres replied tartly.  “A computer to hack?  It’s just not my area.  With all those Borg encryption techniques, Seven could break in there faster than anyone in the quadrant.”

 

          So Seven of Nine it was.

 

          And now two days later the ex-drone took the final few steps to halt before them all-- tall, regal, controlled, her presence drawing eyes from the significantly less magnetic holographic doctor by her side.

 

          “You’ve been briefed on the situation?” Janeway asked crisply, holding the other woman‘s pale blue eyes without a flicker of emotion on her face.

 

          The younger woman hesitated a moment, perhaps surprised that Janeway had jumped to the chase rather than greeting her.  An unreadable emotion flickered across her features.  “Yes, Admiral, I have,” she replied in a voice softer than Janeway remembered.

 

          Her fine blonde hair was draped about her shoulders, the civilian garb hanging with some slack about her lanky form.  Janeway felt a mixture of emotions at seeing her old protege-- love, apprehension, anger.  Truly, she and Seven had always had a love-hate relationship, hate taking predominance towards the end when they returned to Earth and wanted nothing more to do with one another.  Seven, more than anything, embodied the best and the worst Janeway had taken from her time in the Delta Quadrant.  Seven had grown under Janeway’s care from a drone to a human woman with emotions and needs.  She had drained and hardened Janeway like no one before her.  She inspired the best and the worst emotions in Kathryn.

 

          Janeway felt herself soften suddenly, as she watched the uncertainty play across the former Borg’s features, and her initial surge of enmity died away as her familiar affection for her wayward protege reasserted itself.  She held Seven’s eyes a long moment, sensing rather than seeing the younger woman respond to her warmth.  She fought the warning of tears.

 

          “It’s good to see you again, Seven.”  Her voice sounded strange and hollow.

 

          Janeway was surprised when Seven was the first to step forward, and she met the younger woman’s embrace with a distinct feeling of discomfort.  What did Seven see when she looked at her?  How had this woman changed?  There was a time that Janeway knew Seven better than she believed Seven knew herself.  But this human woman was a stranger to her, this human who had commenced her secret liason with Chakotay, outside of Janeway’s knowledge.

 

          That secrecy had not been the fondest introduction to this aspect of Seven’s personality, but first impressions were often mistaken.

 

          Or so she hoped.

 

*        *        *

 

Chakotay found himself alone again with Janeway in the aft compartment of the shuttle as Tom Paris’s ship zipped back towards Earth. She was hunched over a plate, picking half-heartedly at her food. He marveled again at how drastically altered she looked; he’d nearly forgotten about her extreme thinness before the Doctor revived the concern with a whispered inquiry about Janeway’s health. The hologram wanted to examine her right then and there. Chakotay talked him out of it, knowing it would not go down well with Kathryn. The last thing they needed, at this moment, with the future so perilously balanced upon her performance in coming days, was an argument to further chisel at the woman’s precarious control.

 

Besides that, Chakotay knew it was not her physical health that required the most urgent attention. His concern centered around her mental state. The most immediately apparent impact of Durant’s mind games was her weight loss. She was not emaciated because Durant had actively starved her, although she confessed to his repeated harping over her appearance. She was gaunt because some whisper in her mind had compelled her to do this to herself-- to starve, to wreck her own health. And while it was true that Durant had encouraged this-- he had clearly been attempting to use this issue as another avenue to psychologically undermine her-- the fact that this attempt had so clearly taken root within her worried him. This was the only line of attack that Chakotay could see physically manifested; God only knew what else that bastard had done, the damage hidden from Chakotay’s eyes.

 

          “Seven looked well,” Janeway spoke up abruptly, not looking at him.

 

          “She did,” he agreed without emotion, wondering if he should inform her Seven went by Annika now, tell her about Annika’s engagement.

 

          Maybe too much news for Kathryn right now.

 

          Janeway’s piercing blue eyes raked over him. He was uncertain what she was probing for. She threw him off balance a good deal, especially in the quiet moments. When she was angry, he could deal with her. But deadly calm... That unsettled him. He knew the others felt the same way-- B’Elanna, Tom, Seven, the Doctor. Maybe that was why he kept finding himself alone with Kathryn. The others didn’t know what was going on in her head any more than he did.

 

          Tuvok. He cursed himself. He should have contacted Tuvok. Her old Vulcan friend would know, maybe better than Chakotay, what she was thinking. Tuvok could deal with her.

 

          Too late now.

 

          “Have you two spoken alone, yet?” Her voice sounded strange.

 

          He looked at her curiously. “No, we haven’t had the chance.”

 

          “Oh.”

 

          There was a long moment of silence as she gazed down at her tray.

 

          Then, “Chakotay.”

 

          “Kathryn?”

 

          “I never got a chance to--” Kathryn looked uncomfortable suddenly, and then smiled wryly as though trying to ease her own tension. “Well, now might not be the right time... But if we die in a few days, it will probably never be the right time anyway...” She stopped then, and her eyes latched onto his unblinkingly. “I never got a chance to apologize... Not coherently, at least,” Again she looked embarrassed. “Our discussion a few days ago... Just-- at the reunion. I’m sorry I didn’t take your feelings into consideration before I-- before what happened at the reunion. I should have considered it from your perspective, thought of the consequences to you. I was selfish.”

 

          “You don’t have to apologize. It’s long done now,” Chakotay replied gently. He shrugged and lowered himself into the seat next to her. “It hurt, for a long time it hurt... But maybe that old phrase, ’It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all...’” He let the words hang in the air, and when he turned his head towards her, the intensity of her expression startled him.

 

          Her voice was quiet.

 

          “Chakotay,” Chakotay fought his surprise as she reached out and gently caressed his hand with her fingers. “You never lost.”

 

          Chakotay felt his heart still, the blood rushing to his head in a sudden, dizzying moment.

 

          It was then he knew.

 

          For maybe the first time in ages, with this absolute certainty, free of doubt, he knew. She loved him. Kathryn loved him the same way he loved her. He held her gaze, her blue eyes warm with her feelings, the nagging insecurity of the last few months dying at last.

 

          He stared at her, her eyes soft, her hair picking up red in the shuttle light, and knew he could press his lips to hers and she would kiss him back. He could press her to the floor and make love to her in this shuttle and she’d urge him into her. Everything he’d thought she was holding back was there before him, his.

 

          The possibilities were beautiful.

 

          But he hesitated, and for a long moment he wondered what held him back.

 

          It wasn’t a lack of feeling. He wanted her-- Gods how he wanted her.

 

          Maybe if he felt anything less... But he didn’t just want Kathryn-- he wanted to love her, for now, forever.

 

          Here she was, after two years of nothing short of psychological torture, throwing what little remained of Kathryn Janeway into his mercy. If he accepted what was left, joined it with him now, he‘d ruin her. Whatever capacity she’d retained for holding true to her own soul would be lost. There was a terrible imbalance between them-- Kathryn was a fragment of herself, and he was following his own heart. She was still lost, still confused. Even if she knew her own emotions she still had so many wounds to recover from, so much shredded left to heal. If he acted upon this now, she would never have a chance to grow back into her own person. She would only heal those fracture through him... She wouldn’t regain herself on her own.

 

          He had nearly made that mistake with Seven of Nine, allowed an emotionally vulnerable creature to use him as the salve for the wounds she felt she could not heal herself. He let her grow into a full human around him, and when he stepped aside, he nearly destroyed that woman. He couldn’t risk that with Kathryn. He couldn’t do that to her. He wouldn’t.

 

          Chakotay smiled, fighting to maintain a show of tender indifference as much as it hurt him, and slowly rose to his feet. He wanted this to be as easy on her as possible.

 

          “I–Kathryn, I just don’t feel this is the right time.”

 

          The warmth instantly fled Janeway’s face, her eyes, and he winced at the hurt he saw flood her expression. But this was for her. She would understand someday, once she was whole again, why he had to do this. She had to understand.

 

          “I think I‘d better check in with the others.” His voice was soft. A beat passed. “I‘m glad we talked.”

 

          He saw her swallow with a visible effort, and he looked away to give her some privacy to compose herself. When he turned back again, the steely Captain’s Mask was firmly in place. Kathryn nodded blandly, her features pale but steady.

 

          “Yes, me too.” Janeway’s voice was strong, although strangely hollow. “I’ll just finish up in here.”

 

          The air was still tense, and he fumbled for the words, “Do you want me to get you anything else from the replicator before I go up front?”

 

          She shook her head. Quietly, “No. This is enough. Thank you.”

 

          He pressed his lips together, but managed a smile. “Well, I hope you join us soon. I know everyone’s eager to catch up.”

 

          “Of course. I‘ll be just a minute.”

 

          He was certain this was a lie.

* * *

 

          He didn’t make it to the cockpit before he ran into Seven, poised mid-step right outside the cockpit door.

 

          Chakotay stopped short, feeling awkward as he found himself alone with her for the first time since their break up. The rather nasty break up. There was a strange, nervous twitch to her smile, and her eyes looked pale and hesitant.

 

          “Sev--Annika,” Chakotay amended his mistake quickly, with a friendly smile. “Did you want to go back...?” The question hung unsaid as he stepped aside in case she was seeking out Janeway, jabbing a large thumb towards the corridor stretching behind him.

 

          “No. I-- no,” Seven shot an uneasy glance towards the bend in the corridor behind him. “I actually was hoping to speak with you for a minute.”

 

          Chakotay felt himself tense, immediately on guard. “Oh? What is it?”

 

          Seven took a breath, and he recognized that she was attempting to steady herself.

 

          “I wanted to... apologize for my conduct when you terminated our relationship.” The words seemed to be hard for her. “I was out of line, and I am distressed that I may have caused you undue pain.

 

          Chakotay blinked, surprised. “Annika, that was ages ago. I understand perfectly--”

 

          “No,” she cut in. The tall blonde took a step closer, and her eyes were sincere. “I did not inform you of my whereabouts, but I should have. I’m ‘sorry.’”

 

          Still a little baffled, Chakotay gave her an easy smile. “Annika, I truly do understand. I don’t want you to feel ashamed of it.”

 

          She nodded slowly, and he started to move past her when a metal enmeshed hand suddenly landed on his chest, stopping him mid-step.

 

          “ And...” she looked a little fearful, “I was hoping that, despite my past conduct, you might consider attending my wedding to the Doctor.”

 

          Chakotay grinned, holding her eyes with his own, feeling at ease for the first time in this conversation. “Annika, you know I wouldn’t miss it.”

 

          “I understand it is customary for the bride to dispatch documents of invitation,” Seven continued quickly, “But I was afraid that--”

 

          “Annika,” Chakotay said sincerely, “I only want you to be happy. I’m honored you‘ve invited me.”

 

          A moment passed as they gazed at each other, and he swore he could see tears in her eyes. “Thank you, Chakotay. You are a true friend,” Seven of Nine said softly.

 

          Moved by her tears, he stepped forward to envelop her in a warm hug.

 

          Chakotay held his former lover, reflecting that at least someone would find a happy ending in all this mess. Seven and the Doctor. Who would have seen it? He pressed a kiss softly on top of her head, thinking that maybe, just maybe, if Seven could overcome the trauma of the Borg, he might have a chance one day of looking a happy, complete Kathryn Janeway in the eye again. Once they got out of this mess. And they would.

 

          They always did, didn’t they?

 

          “There is also a matter I wish to discuss with you, pertaining to Admiral Janeway,” her voice was muffled against her chest. “The wedding--”

 

          Chakotay smiled. He knew she was going to ask if it was appropriate to approach Janeway with an invite. He’d noticed things were still prickly between the two.

 

          “Don’t worry.” He stroked her back unconsciously. “I’ll settle the matter with Kathryn.”

 

          Chakotay didn’t notice Janeway quietly withdraw back into the aft compartment.

 

* * *

 

          As the door slid shut behind her, Janeway stood perfectly still for a moment before a bitter, mirthless smile tugged at her hard lips. Of course. She should have known.

 

          What had she expected? That he’d wait forever? That he’d simply reel from pain and never turn his eyes to another woman?

 

          He’d found Seven again. They’d rediscovered their affection. Had it been just now, or much earlier? This whole time he’d been protecting her, had he warmed himself with the thought of Seven of Nine’s open arms waiting for him later? How embarrassed he must have been when she made that pass at him a few minutes ago. How uneasy he had looked. Now she knew why. He’d been too kind to tell her, but at least now she knew why.

 

          Oh, God, she wished she hadn‘t seen that.

 

          She‘d walked in just in time to see it. I’ll settle the matter with Kathryn. She felt like an idiot. He’d told Seven about what happened. That almost killed her as much as the sight of the two in an embrace had. They had to be laughing about her.

 

          No, she thought, her eyes beginning to sting with tears, They’re too good for that. It was much worse. They were pitying her.

 

          She closed her eyes harshly, gripping her hands into fists, trying to fight her impulses of jealousy and despair.

 

          He would at least be happy with Seven. She had never made him happy, probably could never make him happy. She‘d only given him pain.

 

          But Goddamn it, she didn’t want him happy! Not without her. The cold, petty reality of her own feelings flooded her with shame and self-loathing.

 

          She knew she was being horrible. Some lucid part of her brain wondered if Admiral Janeway, the original one, had battled with these very same thoughts before making her fateful trip back through time. She had sacrificed her life for these two. Kathryn didn’t want to do the same, to embrace the same fate as that lonely, old Admiral.

 

          But in this situation, maybe she would have to.

 

          Even amidst her feelings of betrayal, she knew her jealousy would not win out; she would save Chakotay. She would send him into Seven’s arms, at the sacrifice of her own life. Maybe they could have fled together, before, when he loved her. But she could never tear him from the woman he loved. As much as she wanted him with her, she could never bear to do that to him.

 

          She would take her exile alone.