Hiding in Plain Sight
by Eydie Munroe
Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, I know…I think we've all read this about a million times already…they're not mine, they're CBS and Paramount's. Since they can't seem to do anything constructive with them, I'm taking them out to play.
Author's Note: My response to the VAMB 2013 Secret Summer Challenge. Hester's request?
"A Janeway story, set in the timeline of Endgame's Admiral Janeway (i.e. at some point during those additional 16 years it took Voyager to get home). The main focus should be the deep friendship between Janeway and Torres. Additionally, I'd love to see them break out the compression phaser rifles!" Enjoy!
Chapter One
Kathryn Janeway threw her feet up on the coffee table, toes wiggling under her socks as she took advantage of being able to sit down for the first time in three days. Repairs after the latest attack on Voyager were only about two thirds complete, but B'Elanna had chased her out of Engineering after she'd dropped a hydrospanner for the third time, nearly missing the chief engineer's foot. Kathryn also had a vague recollection of her first officer trying to tell her to get some rest, but as usual, she ignored the advice and did what she needed to – keep her ship together for one more day.
She was just raising a newly replicated coffee to her mouth when the chime to her quarters rang. A low growl accompanied her heavy sigh, and she called, "Come in," as she leaned forward, putting her feet back on the floor and placing the cup on the table. The doors opened to admit her first officer, who was carrying a padd and a strained expression. "What can I do for you, Commander?"
Chakotay quickly crossed the room, holding the padd out to her. "The final casualty report from the Doctor," he said grimly. "Three dead, and sixteen injured. Ensign Caplan is still in critical condition."
Janeway scrolled through the report he'd brought. Three dead. The words knifed her like almost no others could. "The fire in Astrometrics?" she asked.
Chakotay nodded, clasping his hands behind his back. "They were installing the last of Seven's upgrades when the Fen Domar attacked us."
She looked up sharply at the mention of his dead wife's name. She was a topic that very rarely passed anyone's lips these days. It had been more than three years since the former drone was killed, though in some ways it seemed like it had only been days. In a staff meeting a few days earlier, Chakotay announced that as he'd been cleaning files out of their personal database, he'd stumbled across some of the ideas that Seven had been working on prior to her death, which he thought might help Voyager identify its current adversary more quickly by extending the ship's sensor range. It was the first time Kathryn had heard him mention her name since the disastrous visit she'd paid him after the funeral.
"I wanted to see how you were doing," the captain said as she stepped into his darkened quarters. She stopped in the middle of the room, not wanting to press too hard. He was slumped into what had become his favorite chair, eyes unseeing, ears only half-hearing her words. "Nobody's heard from you in five days."
Without moving, he muttered, "Don't want to see anybody."
She stood for a moment, trying to think of what to say. He didn't have a monopoly on grief here, but as much as Kathryn wanted to lash out at him for wallowing, she knew she couldn't. Chakotay's behavior was very similar to her own after Justin and her father died. In some ways, she wanted to do what Phoebe had done, but Kathryn didn't feel that she had that right. Eventually, she asked, "Can I get you anything?"
He shook his head, tired eyes finally sliding closed. "No."
Fearing he might just fall asleep right there, she finally walked over and then crouched down beside him, her hand coming to rest on his forearm. "Maybe you should get some sleep."
Anger flashed through him, his jaw tightening as he told her in a viperous voice, "Maybe you should get out."
She drew her hand back like it had been burned. "I beg your pardon?"
He looked at her with a murderous look that she hadn't seen since the first time he'd appeared on Voyager's bridge, when Paris had been the object of his ire instead of her. "Leave, Kathryn. Now."
His grief was understandable, but his rebuff of anybody who tried to comfort him over the last two weeks had been the reason she'd come down here. "No." Before she knew what happened, he bolted from the chair, unintentionally knocking her to the floor. "Hey!" He didn't stop, storming off into his bedroom without another word. Now incensed and her patience at an end, she scrambled to her feet and headed after him.
"Get out of here!" he howled at her as soon as she came through the doorway.
"What the hell was that about?" she shot back, truly not understanding where this burst of anger was coming from.
His hands unconsciously flexed at his sides. "What part of 'get out' didn't you understand?" Chakotay's hands were shaking as he snatched an open liquor bottle off the nightstand and the dirty, empty glass that had been beside it. "Leave me alone."
Now it made sense. He was drunk, had been for the better part of a few days, she guessed. And she knew she couldn't let him go down this path. His challenge just galvanized her intent to be there, her chin raised as she glared across the room at him. "I don't care how much pain you're in. There is no excuse for this," she told him, indicating the bottle. "It has been sixteen days, and I expect you to behave like any other member of this crew."
"Fuck you!" he spat at her, hurling the bottle against the wall beside him. "I don't give a good goddamn what you expect."
She flinched when the bottle hit the bulkhead, rare tears of frustration and anger filling her eyes. "You think you're the only one hurting?" she threw back at him, a small part in the back of her mind wondering how this had suddenly turned into such a confrontation, and why she was being so mean. "There are other people on this ship who are in just as much pain as you are – only you don't seem to give a shit."
He whirled around. "You really think that's the same? You really think that somebody you saw as a trainee can really have the same effect on you as me losing my wife?"
She had been trying to calm herself down, and to remember that he needed compassion right now. But his accusation of not caring about Seven made her see red, and whatever control she had abruptly disappeared. "Where do you get off?" Kathryn charged. "Where the hell do you get off saying I didn't love her? She was like my daughter, for Christ's sake! The closest thing I'll ever have in this God-forsaken quadrant."
"This is your fault," he challenged, stepping forward and forcing her back toward the door again. "You just had to order her to get that power converter from the Dacsi. I told you to wait until we found someone less hostile, but as usual you didn't listen!" As he spoke, he'd continued to force her backward, into the living area and toward the door. "I don't give a damn how you feel, Kathryn. You can die and rot in hell for all I care."
And with that, he grabbed her by the arm, escorted her to the doors, and shoved her out into the corridor as soon as they opened. When she tried to override his entry code, she discovered he had somehow managed to lock out her command codes, ensuring that she could not go back and invade his space again.
They were done.
"Captain?"
Kathryn was brought back from her memories by his voice, which over the years since had regained its former gentle tones as he'd worked his way back from grief to a more-or-less functioning state. She blinked a couple of times, then asked, "Is there anything else, Commander?"
If he was concerned at her lapse, he didn't show it. "No, Captain. Unless there is something else that you need, I was going to turn in for the night."
She shook her head, giving him a small, bitter smile. "No, nothing. Goodnight Commander."
"Goodnight Captain." He gave her a small nod, then turned and left.
Kathryn sighed again, picking up her coffee and reclaiming her previous position with her feet up. They had managed to find some equilibrium between them after that last epic battle, but it had taken months before they could even speak to each other outside of the bridge or a briefing. Even then, it was stilted and awkward, the spatial equivalent of talking about the weather. Distancing herself from him was one of the hardest things that Kathryn Janeway had ever had to do in her life, but she did it in self-preservation. Something you probably should have done all along, she reminded herself, taking another sip.
It was late and she was exhausted, but sleep was not something she was looking forward to. Every time they lost somebody, she would dream of them that night, usually some sort of Dickensian nightmare in which the dead would demand an explanation for their demise, and where she'd struggle to find one she could live with. Each morning, the guilt would deepen that much further, and chip another piece away from the woman that used to be Kathryn Janeway. She wondered just how she managed to stay sane through all of it.
She was contemplating asking the Doctor for a sleep aid that would keep her from dreaming when something caught her eye. The last time she had been in here was with Miral, who she'd offered to babysit while Tom and B'Elanna managed to squeeze in a date night. Now six years old, a number of crew members had volunteered to teach her the curriculum that Starfleet's child education division had sent them, and that included Kathryn. At B'Elanna's urging, she started to teach the young girl the basics in science, finding Miral an eager student who grasped concepts like how water transitions from liquid to solid to gas in no time at all.
When they'd last been here, Miral had been asking her questions about where the different humanoids aboard Voyager had come from. Using it as a teachable moment, Kathryn showed her pictures of their different home planets, and then had challenged the young girl to draw a picture of one on her own. The picture that had been left behind when the ship went to red alert was one of a blue-green planet, with large, snow-capped mountains that stuck out in points from the surface. Miral had also drawn a picture of Voyager in orbit above, with four figures standing on its hull – herself, her mother, her father, and Captain Janeway.
Kathryn couldn't help but smile as she gazed at the picture, but her vision of it also got a little blurry. Her niece and nephews were growing up back in the Alpha Quadrant without really knowing her, and none of her friends had had any small children when she still lived there, so she'd never been immortalized by a child in a drawing before. She'd always considered herself to be a tough woman, one who was getting harder and more resolute by the day. But she had a soft spot for Miral Paris, and the notion that Miral considered her a member of her family was one that truly warmed her heart.
Alright, that's enough, Kathryn, she chided herself, knowing that the easy sting of tears appeared because she was beyond tired. She left the drawing on the table where it was, recycled her coffee cup, then checked her schedule for the morning before she headed to bed. She still was fighting off sleep, but she forced herself to relax and picked up the book that B'Elanna had loaned her, reading about six chapters before she finally dropped off to sleep, its pages dropping down forgotten onto her chest.