TITLE: And Refuse Thy Name
AUTHOR: Brenda Shaffer-Shiring
PART: 1/1
CODES:  J, C
RATING:  PG for mild language
DISCLAIMERS: Paramount owns the characters, the situations, and any
other aspects of Star Trek: Voyager with real cash value.  And if
money is what you love, that is what you'll receive...
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:  To my fearless and hard-working betas, Diane
Bellomo, John Morales, and C.J. Grant, for quick, clear, and thorough
feedback.
SUMMARY:  Hoping to win him back to her side, Admiral Janeway makes
Chakotay a job offer he can't refuse.  Or can he?

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^=

Admiral Kathryn Janeway dusted an imaginary fleck of dust off the
polished black surface of her desk, and patted her hair into a
presumed smoothness.  Today, everything needed to look just right.

While this was a very nice office - and certainly far more spacious
than its counterpart on Voyager had been - she couldn't help thinking
it was a bit of a pity that it bore so little resemblance to the room
she'd gotten so used to over seven years in the Delta Quadrant.  The
shape and angles were far more open, the colors cooler and more
stylish, the furniture of far better quality.  While each of these
aspects had its own appeal, together they had the effect of making the
place less cozy than she'd been used to.  The bits of memorabilia
she'd used to decorate her captain's office were too few and too
sparse to enliven this great vault.

Well, never mind that.  She would make the place her own, given time. 
And until that time, the perquisites of being an admiral would go more
than a little way toward making up for lost comforts.  Not the least
of those perquisites: the ability to influence the fates of those
she'd claimed as her own back in the Delta Quadrant; particularly the
fate of a certain former officer who would be joining her here in just
a few moments.  Cradling a china cup of coffee, she settled herself
near the window and waited.

Chakotay didn't keep her waiting long.  Punctual as ever, he was
announced at the exact time he'd been scheduled to arrive.  "Send him
in," Kathryn ordered, her heart beating a little faster.  //Yes, by
God, send him in!//

Chakotay entered.  Though she'd known he'd be in civilian clothes (the
field commission she'd given him having been set aside until Starfleet
should make its final decision), she couldn't restrain the little
eye-widening of surprise. Not that he looked bad, a certain level of
her psyche grudgingly admitted: the burnt-orange tunic and fitted
brown pants suited his broad-shouldered build and swarthy coloring,
and the surprising little tousle of curl on his forehead softened his
broad features attractively.  It was more the implications of his
looking so -- so *civilian* that bothered her.  In all the time he had
been her officer, he'd rarely been out of uniform or looked less than
perfectly proper, and it seemed somehow wrong to see him so now.

Well, as he would soon discover, she had it in her power to right that
particular wrong.

She glided smoothly across the room, offering her hand.  "Chakotay! 
How wonderful to see you."

He took her hand in a strong grip, favoring her with a quick flash of
that knee-weakening smile of his.  "Kathryn.  Or should I say,
Admiral?"

She felt the corners of her lips turn up.  "I have to admit, I do like
the sound of that."  It was a title she felt she'd more than earned,
and hearing the acknowledgement in his voice was particularly
pleasant.

"Well, you certainly deserve it, Admiral," he answered, again
validating her own opinion, this time with a warmth that made her
heart leap in her chest.

Covering that little surge of emotion, she joked slyly, "You know, I
think I agree with you." They both laughed, she with the happy thought
that he obviously didn't feel her new rank had to stand between them.  
She let her hand linger in his for a moment, savoring the thought of
the new possibilities she was about to open up for him - for them.

"Seven agrees, too.  She says she's pleased to know that, oh, let me
see, how did she say it?  'The preponderance of evidence
notwithstanding, Starfleet Command is not completely without the
capacity for rational decisions.'"  He chuckled, remembering, and
Kathryn forced a smile, though the introduction of Chakotay's ex-Borg
lover into this conversation would not have been her choice.

"That's kind of Seven," she said at last, "but I'm a little sorry to
hear she thinks so poorly of Starfleet Command."

The corner of Chakotay's mouth twisted upward, wryly.  "Remind me to
tell you some of the gorier details of her debriefing.  So, there a
reason you invited me here, other than to let me gawk at the new
office?  Not that it's not great, by the way."

Suddenly he was too close, the possibilities too imminent.  She made
an orderly retreat to behind her desk, taking a moment to study the
proposal she'd left up on her computer monitor.  "I wanted to talk to
you about your future."

He nodded as he settled himself in one sleek gray visitor's chair, his
large frame dwarfing the compact piece of furniture.  "As it happens,
that's a subject of some interest to me."

And some anxiety, Kathryn deduced.  She knew he'd been seeking work on
Earth and the nearer planets, but hadn't heard that he'd met with much
success.  Former Maquis were not particularly popular here in the
heart of the Federation, and anyone who viewed the newsnets would
recognize Chakotay and know of his erstwhile affiliation.

He inclined his head, looking attentive.  "So.  What about my future?"

"How would you like to be a professor of anthropology at Starfleet
Academy?"   Her smile was a little smug.  She knew that was a
particular desire of his; he'd admitted as much long ago, on Voyager. 
And if she could make his dream come true, not only would it bring him
into her world forever, but it would also be much more than Seven
could do for him, more than the ex-Borg could ever hope to match.

He stared at her, lips parted in disbelief.  Finally, he managed,
"Kathryn, you're joking!"

"Not a bit," she promised.  "Being an admiral does give me a few
strings to pull."  A great many, actually, and she'd pulled more than
a few in this cause.  "So, what do you think?"

He snorted, shaking his head in what still looked to be mostly
disbelief.  "I think it sounds wonderful, Kathryn.  More than I ever
hoped for."

"I *thought* you might be interested," she said archly.

"Of course I'm interested.  How did you ever talk those stiff-necked
bastards at the Academy into this?"

"It wasn't so hard," she assured him.  "With your education and
experience - especially the unique experience you picked up in the
Delta Quadrant--" //and which I made damned sure they knew about in
shattering detail//  "--you were an excellent candidate for the job."

"And my, ah -- previous affiliations -- didn't bother them?"

"I wouldn't go that far," she admitted carefully.  //Here's the
potential sticking place,//  she knew, but with a little luck and a
little skill -- and with Chakotay's dream job as the carrot to lure
him on -- Kathryn had every hope of getting what she wanted, and
needed, of him.  //First on this point, and then, later --?//   "But I
did persuade them that your Maquis ties were all in the past."  Which
was true enough, as far as it went: the Maquis themselves had entered
history four years ago, and Chakotay had not been active in their
ranks for three years before that.

He snorted, disbelieving.  "Just like that?"

"Not quite, no," she said levelly.  He was usually a rational man, and
he had every reason to be one now; surely he would understand what
she'd done and cooperate with her.  "I told them you'd repudiated the
Maquis years ago."

He stiffened.  "You told them what?"

"I *told* them," she said, stressing the verb so that he would
understand her meaning, "that you repudiated the Maquis.  I *told*
them that, from the time you joined me, you were completely loyal to
Starfleet."

But he was apparently focused on the letter of what she'd said.  "I
was completely loyal to Voyager," he said, an odd emphasis on the last
word.  "But I never repudiated anything."

"Of course you didn't," she said, a little impatiently.  "But
Starfleet doesn't know that.  The Academy doesn't know it.  And
there's no reason they have to learn."

Understanding seemed to dawn.  Chakotay's eyes widened fractionally,
and he tilted his head, regarding her curiously.   "In other words,"
he said quietly, "all I have to do is go before the Admiralty, or
before the Academy Board, and tell them that I chose to turn my back
on the Maquis."

"Yes, that's it."  He opened his mouth to speak again, but she pressed
on before he could get the words out.  "Would it really be such a lie,
Chakotay?  After all, you *weren't* a Maquis all those years on
Voyager.  You were a Starfleet officer -- and an excellent one."

"On Voyager, yes, I was a Starfleet officer."  Despite the words, it
was not a statement of agreement.

"What do you mean?" she demanded.

Chakotay sighed.  "There wasn't any point to being a Maquis on
Voyager," he said, as if explaining the obvious.  "We weren't at war
in the Delta Quadrant."

"So you were only a Starfleet officer because there wasn't a reason to
be anything else?"  That couldn't be right; it didn't make *sense*. 
He'd been too good an officer for that to be true, and besides, it
didn't fit with some of the things he'd said and done in their time in
the Delta Quadrant.  "I thought you -- you said you believed in
Starfleet."

"In a lot of ways, I *do* believe in Starfleet, Kathryn.  When there's
a new world - a new quadrant - to explore, I can't imagine wanting to
be anything but a Starfleet officer.  Starfleet opens up space; it
opens up the skies."  There was a spark of reminiscent warmth in his
eyes, and unquestionable sincerity in his voice.  "I'll always be
grateful for the chance you gave me to be a part of that again."

A little unnerved at the way his expression suggested nostalgia rather
than desire, she sharply reminded him of the main point.  "You can be
a part of it again *now*."

He regarded her quizzically.  "By claiming I renounced the Maquis?"

"If necessary, yes!  Why not?"

"Because I didn't," he said softly.

For the love of God or gods, he was splitting hairs.  He could hardly
be some sort of Maquis loyalist; the Maquis were long since finished,
and he was a pacifist to begin with!  "What difference does it make?"
she said harshly.  "If you renounced them then, or if you renounce
them now?"

His expression was sad, but resolute.  "Kathryn, I don't intend to
renounce them at all.  Not in the past, the present, or the future."

Frustration spurred anger to the fore. "Why not?  Why are you so loyal
to a gang of dead terrorists?" she demanded.  A part of her knew that
label was at least a little unfair, as Chakotay was hardly the only
ethical Maquis she had ever known, but she didn't care.  She was in no
mood to be fair.  "Why are they so important to you?  What
*difference* does it make?"

Chakotay's lips tightened.  When they finally parted, his voice was
almost excruciatingly level.  "The difference it makes, Kathryn, is
that unlike Starfleet, those 'dead terrorists' were loyal to me when I
needed them to be.  When my world needed them to be.  It's true I
don't love everything the Maquis ever did.  I don't even love
everything I did when I was a Maquis.  But if I renounce them now,
then I renounce everyone who died trying to protect Dorvan.  Everyone
who died trying to save my crew or me.  Everyone in my crew."  He
looked away, his jaw working.  "My own *father*, Kathryn.  I won't do
that, " he whispered.  "I can't."

When he looked back again, his voice was a little stronger.   "And if
you really don't think it makes any difference, ask your friends in
Starfleet why it's so important to *them*, that I should disavow the
Maquis.  Or was that optional?"

"Of course not."   Fleet Admiral Ross had made it excruciatingly plain
that Chakotay would never be considered for any sort of Fleet
employment unless he swore he'd long since forsaken any loyalty to his
old rebel colleagues.

"Of course not."  A glint of something that wanted to be humor quirked
his lips.  "That ought to tell you what difference it makes to
Starfleet - which is one other reason I can't do it.  I won't give
them moral absolution for the way they turned their backs on the DMZ." 
He drew a deep breath.  "Kathryn, believe it or not, I'm sorry," he
said, almost gently.  "I know you must have gone to a lot of trouble
to get the Academy to consider me for a professorship, and you'll
never know how much I wish I could accept it."

"Then accept it," she said strongly, as if the order and the
insistence alone could override his baffling and unexpected arguments.

"I can't, Kathryn."  How strange it was, that an expression that
looked so gentle should so utterly lack give.  "Not at that price."

"Chakotay, for God's sake-"  //Don't do this.//  She didn't know
whether or not to hope that he could read the desperation in her eyes. 
//Don't walk away from me!//

"Kathryn.  No."  He sighed once more.

"I don't understand why this is so much to ask."  //For God's sake, I
give you everything you want in a job -- I could give you everything
you *ever* wanted -- and you cast it all aside on an obscure ethical
point?//

He looked away.  "No," he said softly.  "I don't suppose you do
understand."  After a moment, he pulled in another breath and looked
back at her.  "I guess Seven's right.  We all need to move on with our
lives.  Quit leaning on Starfleet."  He sketched a smile in her
direction, but it seemed distant, distracted.  "Well, except for those
of us who happened to get a really good offer.  Of course, in your
case it's probably more like they're leaning on you."  Bending his
head, he kissed her cheek, a cool brush of lips utterly without
passion.

"Thank you for trying, Kathryn.  Thank you for everything.  But I
think I'd better make my own future now."   His soft footfalls drummed
their rhythm into ears and heart as he walked away, and the door
swished open and closed as he left her, once and for all.

Lip quivering, Kathryn Janeway cast a restless gaze around the great,
empty vault that was the office of a Starfleet admiral.

He had left her.

He had left her.

He had left her, and taken all the possibilities with him.

Avoiding the reality of the new-closed door, she turned toward her
window.  But her vision was blurred and she could see no skyline
beyond.

END