Disclaimer: The characters in this story are not mine. They belong to Paramount.
Rating: T for the language.
Notes: This is set just after "Scorpion". I'd call it much lighter than my usual, but light isn't exactly the word I'd use to describe itMoved the episode "Unity" up to just a few weeks before "Scorpion" to suit my twisted purposes…hope no one objects. If you do, feel free not to mention it. Borrowed Justin Tighe from Jeri Taylor's Mosaic; hope she doesn't mind, and no infringement is intended.
He loved her. He truly and absolutely, deep down in his bones, from the bottom of his heart, loved her.
It was just a shame that he was going to have to kill her.
"Chakotay!"
He winced, hearing her distinctive voice calling out to him from across the hustle and bustle of the crowded Oran street. Heaving a deep sigh of resignation, he caught himself absently pinching the bridge of his nose: an attempt to address the throbbing ache which had set in behind his eyes. Ironically, it was a gesture he'd likely picked up from her.
Ironic indeed, he allowed, as she was, without question, the sole cause of his headache now. Turning toward the sound of her voice, his facial features automatically cleared of the grimace which had settled upon them the instant he saw the condition she was in. Adopting a carefully neutral expression instead, he openly observed her as she made her way toward him, shoving her way through the boisterous gathering of tall, willowy humanoids.
She was somewhat of a mess, he noted, with her auburn hair rather disheveled from the light yet persistent winds of the planet's cool northern hemisphere. She looked paler than usual, too, against the backdrop of the double blue moonlight of Oran IV. Dressed in the casual black pants suit she'd selected for their mission, she'd lost the calm aura of dignity that normally cloaked her slight form. And without the heels of her just-this-side-of-regulation boots, the unusually tall Orans practically dwarfed her as she, somehow, pummeled her way through them.
She was running, he noted with alarm, frowning as the realization dawned upon him. Well, running wasn't exactly the term he'd use, so much as hobbling her way through the thick throng of unamused creatures in her path…but she was moving with general haste and reckless disregard for the casualties she was leaving in her wake.
"Hey!" an amber-hued Oran yelled out, hopping up and down and clutching his left foot in one right hand as she passed.
"Watch where you're going!" another screeched, rubbing his side as she finally cleared the unforgiving mass and broke free from the crowd.
She hurtled toward him as fast as the pronounced limp hindering her movements would allow.
Oh, yes, he decided darkly, leveling his commanding officer with a glare as she approached him, making them both the center of attention, I'm going to strangle her… after I, once again, get down on my knees and thank the Spirits that she's still alive.
And then he saw them, emerging from the narrowing zigzag of an opening her insistent body had created in the dense crowd: a group of aliens clearly following the same path the captain had taken barely an instant before. And this bunch looked mean, he decided, eyeing the dark, concealing cloaks hooding their shadowed features as they stormed toward him. Their yellow cats' eyes glinted viciously in the double moonlight, and Chakotay noted that the crowd was parting much more easily for the five men than they had for Kathryn…which meant they were gaining on her.
He cursed the fact that they had been unable to salvage any of the phasers from the shuttle wreckage when they'd "landed"…or more accurately, when they'd been set upon by an unknown ship intent upon tractoring them into the alien vessel's gaping cargo hold…
She reached him at last, and he barely registered her breathless order of "Run!" before he'd curled his fingers firmly around the muscles in her upper arm and set off down the dark alleyway to his left, practically dragging her along behind him as he forced her to keep a quick pace.
She didn't complain, for once, and it was surely the first time in weeks that he'd met with that particular phenomenon in her presence.
"I won't even bother asking why you aren't still waiting at the shuttle, which is where I left you," he managed through teeth gritted with both adrenaline and exertion. The commander swiftly darted from the alleyway and onto another less crowded, empty street. "Which is where I seem to recall you promising to stay until I got back."
"Captain's…prerogative," she retorted somewhat breathlessly from just behind him. She was breathing heavily by now, and he gathered that she'd been dodging their pursuers for some few minutes already. She was also having trouble walking, but while he had set a brisk pace, she seemed to be keeping up, even with the evident limp hindering her generally measured strides.
He was nowhere close to a being in frame of mind where he could cut her a centimeter of slack. Not after the hell she'd put him through these past few weeks…
"It's the captain's prerogative to lie, you mean?" he snapped, but the effect was somewhat marred as he ducked into a narrower alleyway, tugging her along behind him.
"No," she growled, and somehow had her voice infused with that famous edge of authority even through her breathlessness. Or maybe that was just the Category Nine death glare he could feel scorching through the tunic on his back. "It's the captain's prerogative…to damned well decide…for herself…whether or not she'll delegate…dangerous tasks to–" She gasped as the singe of weapons' fire struck the wall in front of them, missing her shoulder by no more than a hair. Cursing, Chakotay cut a hard right into the next alley, hauling her behind him and never relaxing his fierce grip on her arm.
Seeing no alternative now, he backed them into a dark corner behind some bins of refuse, praying that their pursuers didn't have scanning equipment as well as contraband weapons; those energy blasts had been set for a more than lethal output, if the tiny showers of blasted material from the wall had meant anything at all…
Breathing heavily, he pulled his captain down into a crouching position just beside him and waited, while they both did their utmost to muffle the telltale sounds coming from their panting mouths.
Chakotay's senses were on hyper-alert, adrenaline pumping through him. The thrill of being pursued and the clear-cut danger surrounding them had the old, habitual frame of mind descending upon him once more. Even after years of serving as Kathryn Janeway's executive officer aboard a Starfleet ship, he still marveled at how quickly he could descend back into mercenary mode. It seemed something that, once learned, could never be forgotten. The tangible, tangy aroma of fear, radiating strongly from both of them, only served to heighten the effect.
A furious bustle of movement stirred an unnatural current of cool air to pass, caressing over the exposed skin of the two humans as the dark band of thugs hurtled past their impromptu hiding spot in the alley.
"They can't have gone far! This way!" one of them urged, directing his deep voice at his companions.
"She'd better not have disappeared, Enahr," another hard male voice, obviously redolent with confident authority growled. "She's seen enough to bring the whole operation down. I told you it was a mistake to take an unknown..."
The words trailed off as the voices continued to move away from them, disappearing into the night.
In precisely which direction the first man had led his cohorts, Chakotay would never know, as it was impossible to see around the thick waste bins concealing the Starfleet officers from view.
His heart slowed, but only by a small fraction. His breathing had come back under control, but he noticed that hers was still somewhat ragged. Finally, after enough time had passed for him to feel relatively assured that the men had not left a scout behind to wait them out, he turned to arch a less-than-amused brow at her. "Friends of yours?"
"You could say that," she whispered, ever aware that the danger had not passed yet; there was always the chance that their pursuers would double back as soon as they realized they were following a cold trail. "But I think I found out what happened to Harry and–"
Kathryn had craned her head around to meet her first officer's dark eyes, which were barely millimeters from hers. She froze as she realized consciously for the first time that Chakotay still had one arm curled protectively around her and that he was firmly hugging her to his side, as though afraid that she would…
She was glad of the dim lighting of the darkened alley, which would ensure that he would not see her blushing – then she mentally kicked herself. It didn't matter what the lighting revealed, because there was nothing to reveal; Starfleet captains didn't blush, and she certainly wasn't doing so now!
Still, perhaps it was a blessing after all that she wouldn't have to prove that at the moment…
Besides, she thought darkly, with more than a twinge of decidedly un-captain-like bitterness, it's not as though he actually wants you that way, Kathryn. He prefers blonds…Borg blonds, who assimilate him into rogue collectives and then manipulate him, use him to achieve their own selfish ends…
She grimaced to herself, genuinely chagrined at the instantaneous and petty turn her musings had taken. She never deluded herself into thinking she was above such human emotions as jealousy, or even the occasional bout of selfish ire, but this was getting ridiculous…it wasn't as if his having a relationship with a woman bothered her in the slightest! It was only his poor choice of companions that she found so objectionable.
Really, if anything, she should still be angry over his refusal to back her decision to make a deal with the Borg in return for safe passage through their space…but she'd forgiven him that, for the most part…he'd been doing what he thought was right. When she was honest with herself, like now, Kathryn had to admit that her decision had been uncharacteristically unilateral...
It was just that she'd assumed he was being overly sensitive after the fiasco with Riley Frazier was all, she decided definitively. She'd ignored his insistence that the Borg couldn't be trusted because it had come so soon after his...relationship with the rogue collective leader. They hadn't really spoken about it, but things had been a little…raw…between them ever since. Obviously she was confusing the issues, now that things had settled down enough that she could stop and reflect over them…
"Chakotay," she admonished sternly, largely to cover her discomfort at their proximity, and her shame over her unprofessional and bewildering resentment, "you can let go now! I'm not going anywhere."
He showed no signs of having heard her, and his firm grip around her waist gave no indication of slackening. His eyes bore into hers, and she found herself shivering at the sheer intensity in them as they glowed reflectively in the moonlight. Just as she was beginning to grow distinctly annoyed with his lack of responsiveness, he clipped, "Right. I've heard that before."
His brooding was really wearing on her last nerve, she decided. And his presumption was getting simply out of hand. I tried, she reasoned to herself. I tried to cut him some slack; I really did. But he didn't even seem willing to meet her half way, and if he thought for one minute that she was going to tolerate his flat insubordination… Well, he obviously doesn't "know" me as well as he thinks he does!
She was tired. She was tired, she was cold, she was – wonder of wonders – hungry, and she had a massive headache, probably from caffeine withdrawal. Her ankle was sore as hell, and she couldn't seem to stop sniping at her first officer. Trumping all of that, however, was that they had yet to locate their missing crewmen and now had a badly disabled shuttlecraft to repair before they even had a chance of recovering Harry and Tom. She refused to believe the Myrani when they told her that her helmsman and operations officer had most likely been lured into one of the various quantum singularities peppering this part of space. For one thing, Tom was too damned good of a pilot and for another…she'd know if they had met with some unfortunate end. She'd know. They were alive. They had to be; she refused to believe that they were gone.
She'd find them. Just as soon as they shook off their unwanted…escort...they'd double back to the warehouse and find a way to trace the aliens back to their ship.
Damn, what I wouldn't give for just a few sips of even Neelix's coffee right now, she lamented, then brought herself up short. No, the situation isn't quite that desperate yet…
But Chakotay, damn him, wasn't making her mood any lighter. Despite her assurances, he still hadn't moved to release her, and that coupled with potent adrenaline and sheer misery had her snapping, "Commander, we have more pressing concerns at the moment than your mother hen compulsion, or your chauvinist tendencies, or whatever the hell it is that feeds your misplaced need to keep me under your thumb at all times!" Her voice crackled with unmistakable annoyance, even at a fierce whisper. "So you can either let go of me of your own accord and I'll overlook your little indiscretion…this time…or –"
"Or what?" he hissed, at the end of his rope with both her foul mood of the past few weeks and, most notably, with her insistence upon making his life a living hell by trying to get herself killed on a regular basis. "You'll put me on report?" he demanded, with a bitter little laugh as he tightened rather than slackened his grip.
He had no idea what had come over him, and could only speculate that it was the resurgence of the Maquis in him, the rebel, combined with the heart-stopping terror of seeing her standing, alone, amidst the throng of the dangerous Oran streets at night.
It felt good, he decided: shedding the forced civility they'd been maintaining between them for weeks now...telling her how he really felt. Why hadn't he done this sooner? "What, Kathryn?" he challenged fiercely. "What will you do if I don't? Demote me?" He laughed again, only fueled in his resolve by the incredulous glare he received for his rank insubordination, "Don't bother; I resign! You don't let me do my job properly anyway! Now, are you going to tell me who those men were, and what you meant by finding Harry and Tom, or are we just going to sit here arguing all night until your friends come back and find us?"
Kathryn stared, slack-jawed. She couldn't help it; he'd certainly never spoken to her like that before…and as for him resigning…not if she had anything to say about it! Not before she had the chance to demote him first! Incensed, nonplussed, she fixed him with the iciest glare of disdain she could muster and promised, "We'll deal with your appallingly unacceptable attitude later, Commander; count on that."
She meant it, too. What in the world had gotten into him? "As for my 'friends', let's just say I overheard them talking by chance while I was out looking for you."
"Which you had no business doing in the first place!" he interjected heatedly, not at all cowed by the reprimand she'd dealt him.
She chose to ignore him entirely this time; if she addressed his attitude again now, it wasn't going to be a pretty sight. And they couldn't afford to be overheard in a shouting match. "I was passing by what looked to be an abandoned building when I noticed muffled conversation coming from an open window at the back of the warehouse."
"Warehouse?" he prompted, not losing an ounce of his heated intensity. "What kind of warehouse? What was in it?"
She glared at him, her ankle shooting with sharp pains from having twisted it horribly, falling over stacks of cargo crates in her haste to escape her pursuers. It only increased her irritation: no small feat, considering… "Well, that's what I wanted to know, too. I thought it might be a place where we could access the supplies you haven't been able to procure."
He groaned. The picture of what had happened in the moments before he'd found her was becoming all too clear, and he finally released her, much to her relief. "So you, being the inimitably curious little cat that you are," he spat caustically, "couldn't resist sneaking closer for a better look." At her shrug of acceptance, he groaned again. "And what did you see?"
That was going to be the hardest part, she knew: admitting to the insufferable man Chakotay had become since crashing the shuttle that he had, in fact, been right… With a little sigh of resolve, she managed, "From the look of things, they'd abducted a few of the Orans, and were inspecting 'the merchandise', as they put it. Speculating about the 'marketability' of their quarry."
He hissed low, even more annoyed. Couldn't listen to me, could you, Kathryn? "You mean they were talking about the profit they would recoup from selling those people."
Suddenly very interested in the ground, Kathryn stretched out her sore ankle, which was rapidly swelling around the flat shoes she wore. She nodded stiffly. "Yes."
"You mean," he continued, emphasizing his point with relentless intensity, "that they're slavers."
Again she nodded, more than slightly annoyed by his distinct lack of grace. If there was anything she hated in this galaxy, it was a smug winner…
"Slavers," he repeated, "that you insisted didn't exist here."
Kathryn mentally groaned. There was no denying it; she had done exactly that. She had at least been inclined to believe the Myrani governor when he'd boasted that the outskirts of Myrani space were the safest of any in the quadrant. It had certainly seemed so at the time. It was why she'd allowed Harry and Tom to split off from Voyager and do some exploring of the nearby nebula…and why she'd brushed off Chakotay's concerns back at the shuttle wreckage. Not that she didn't always ignore his concerns, but as she recalled now with an embarrassed flush (that didn't really exist), she'd been particularly smug about it this time…
"Slavers," he continued, peeking cautiously around the waste bins before ducking back behind them to address her pointedly, "whom you maintained were just the figment of an overprotective first officer's imagination, and a bullying tactic to keep you –"
"They were discussing their latest 'haul'," she interrupted, a bit more loudly than was exactly prudent, and lowered her voice accordingly as she continued to glower at her mutinous first officer, "and mentioned two male humanoids they'd snatched in a captured shuttle. From the description, it sounded like Tom and Harry, so when they left for what they termed a last 'cull of the marketplace', I–"
He wanted to throttle her. Spirits, this time he could actually see it, he decided. Staring, fascinated, at her thin white throat, the image solidified before his eyes: his fingers, closing around the elegant column of her neck…"You decided to move in and get an even closer look," he accused, leveling her with a glower the likes of which she hadn't seen since their first meeting, the day he'd stared down Tom Paris on the bridge.
At the time, she'd stepped in between them to catch his attention, and the look in his fierce dark eyes when he'd finally deigned to acknowledge her presence… damn.
"They're the ones who shot us down."
Huh? It was difficult to focus. There was distinctly pleasant warmth spreading throughout her body, enveloping her with a tingling longing. His proximity, his angry energy as he sat coiled up like a powerful animal ready to spring at a moment's notice, the scent of his distinctly male body – all sweat and musk and powerful aggression – tickled her nostrils, suddenly drowning out the stench of garbage which surrounded them and making her chest swell with a sudden tightness…
He never challenged her. Not really. No one did: she was the captain. Even when they'd had their disagreement over Species 8472 recently, he hadn't spoken to her like this. Who was this man? She was hardly even listening to him anymore, such was the hold that he now exerted over her with the look in his eyes. In this uncharacteristic anger which had apparently seized a hold of her normally pliant and biddable first officer, he was undeniably compelling. It was maddening. It was infuriating! It was…her gaze was drawn to his full lips, watching the movement there if not hearing the words they produced…
"And you did!"
Amazingly, that glare only intensified, and she hadn't thought that possible!
"Without waiting to find me, without waiting for backup of any kind, you went into that building unarmed, without a thought to what they might do to you if you were caught. Which you obviously were, or they wouldn't have been chasing you all over town, trying to blow your pretty little head off! Kathryn!" he shook her, his hands inexplicably having found their way to her shoulders without her noticing and she could have died to realize that she'd been ogling him instead of focusing on his words. "Are you even listening to a word I'm saying??"
What in the hell was wrong with her??
His movement jostled her considerably as he shook her none-too-gently, eliciting a pained groan from her in spite of herself. She clutched at her ankle, which was swelling with alarming rapidity now that she'd stopped moving and rested it beneath her weight.
He dropped her abruptly, following her movement with a combination of disgust and alarm. Settling his heated glare on the swollen black and blue skin which peeked out from beneath the hem of her pant leg, he cursed vehemently, drawing a surprised and doubly curious glance from his captain. "Let me see it," he demanded flatly, reaching downward.
She shooed him away, still angry over his bizarre defiance. Why now? she wondered. If anything, she was the one with the right to be angry, not him! Who had betrayed whom here? Who was the one who got off on screwing Borg…
What in the name of God was wrong with her? She really would have to stop putting off those yearly physicals with the doctor from now on. Clearly, she was suffering from some sort of…abnormal hormonal imbalance…or something of the kind. She'd never in her entire career been unable to separate her personal thoughts from the day to day operations of the ship before…never. Not once in…well there was Justin, she realized, but that had been because...she froze, in the midst of pushing Chakotay's hand away from her throbbing – oh God, was it throbbing – ankle. After all of this, after staying so focused on her mission to get the crew home for so long…could it be?
She stared at him, transfixed by her own train of thought.
She wasn't a stupid woman. She knew full well she'd been…abnormally testy…these last few weeks, but it certainly had nothing to do with jealousy, for God's sake! It wasn't as though she were in love with him, or had any hold on him at all; she didn't want to! He was her first officer, her good friend…her best friend, even. If he wanted to pursue a relationship with another woman, any woman, for that matter, then he had every right to do so. She didn't care. It wouldn't matter, she'd be happy for him! Of course she was happy that he'd found some–
The thought wasn't even finished and the unfamiliar, seemingly inexplicable ire was surging in her once again. Anger, boiling, seethed upward within her breast to simmer just at the surface where she barely managed to restrain it from exploding outward.
But she'd thought…he'd made her think that he at least cared for her a little. Even if they hadn't been able to explore their deep friendship, and the depths it could possibly hold if given a chance… She'd thought he'd really meant what he said. She thought he, at least, had those feelings for her.
She'd been so stupid! She could hear the words like it was yesterday instead of a year ago that he'd spoken them…
"And the angry warrior swore to himself that he would stay by her side, doing whatever he could to make her burdens lighter. From that point on, her needs would come first. And in that way, he began to know the true meaning of peace."
Bullshit!
She'd been the only woman on the planet; of course he hadn't meant it. He was only trying to get her into bed. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have fallen for such foolish, juvenile…nonsense? No matter how convincingly he'd uttered those words or how attentively he hung on her every word – like he really did love her – she should have known better. She was an adult, damn it, she should have seen through the obvious rhetoric and dismissed it as such. Instead, she'd been a fool; she'd believed his every obscure word. She glared at him again, disappointed in his apparent shallowness, and once again pushed his hand away from her foot.
The bastard, she seethed, unable to help herself. That bastard sold me a bill of goods, and he made me fall for him –
She went white, the blood draining from her face as the reason for her recent behavior…reminiscent of a much more childish version of herself, when she'd been in love with Justin Tighe and insecure over that love…hit her.
And it hit her hard.
Chakotay. He made me fall for him…She panicked. Calm, cool, in control, tough-as-nails Janeway panicked.
Oh God, what had she done?
She loved him! She genuinely, in her heart of hearts, loved him – was in love with him! All this time, it had been staring her right in the face and she'd been ignoring the obvious signs…
She couldn't believe it had come to this. After everything she'd worked so hard to maintain: her distance, her focus, everything…he'd come along and shot it all to hell with a damned ancient legend. A damned fake ancient legend, no less!
"No!" she hissed, even more harshly than she'd intended. She was furious: with him, with herself, with fate for cursing her with feelings for a man who, even if it had been appropriate for her to fall in love with, obviously no longer felt the same way about her…if he ever really had in the first place. She was angry with the whole, damned, fucked up situation.
He couldn't be allowed to touch her like that: casually, familiarly. As though he had somehow earned the right to…
"No, you can't." She shoved him aside once more, ignoring his angry protests turned pure concern at the sudden, dramatic, and clearly terrified look on his stubborn captain's face.
"Kathryn, what is it?" he demanded, alarmed. He reached out to catch at her arm, her shoulder, anything to make her still and explain her sudden jerky movements. "What's wrong?"
She scrambled to get away from him, knocking over a less filled bin in her mad haste to put some distance between them. It echoed in the eerie silence of the deserted alleyway. "No!" She insisted, more loudly, as he reached out an urgent hand to stop her, to find out what was suddenly so wrong with her, and mostly, to keep her quiet before –
She stopped, mid-movement, and suddenly went stiff. When he rose to his feet to steady her, and to find out just what the hell her problem was, he froze just as abruptly, still looking at her face.
There was a gleaming, silver, lethal-looking disruptor at her temple.
Horrified, Chakotay followed the sleek lines of the formidable weapon past the gloved hand holding it, and looked squarely into shining yellow eyes and sharp pointed teeth which gleamed menacingly at him in the moonlight. His stomach sank at the sight of the five men who had been chasing them. They were all now standing around the bins that had concealed him and Kathryn from view.
"See, Enahr," the man with the strong voice practically purred to the one holding the weapon at Kathryn's head, "I told you they couldn't have gone far." He sauntered up to Chakotay, smiling widely, looking him up and down. All the while, he kept his weapon prominently pointed at the first officer's chest. "Well," he continued, eyeing his prey with obvious appreciation, "you gave us quite a chase, but that's no matter; my men can use the exercise. And you, my well-built alien friend, are going to have plenty of that too, where you're going."
Chakotay tensed, preparing to make a move, and met Kathryn's eyes. They were wide, but determined. He knew that look; he loved that look.
He feared that look.
She opened her mouth to speak, but her words were not directed at him. "You can let him go, he isn't involved in th–"
She got no further. Chakotay was forced to watch in horror as the weapon at her temple moved swiftly, shifting down to aim at her lower back.
In an instant, he was springing forward to knock her free of the path of weapon's fire. "Kathryn!" he cried out, trying to warn her of the impending disaster, but he was too late.
With a short blast of yellow energy, she was struck, point blank. Kathryn gave only a little cry of pain and then crumpled to the ground, where she lay still.
Unmoving.
"No!" he roared, just managing to reach for her before a burst of fire struck his insides and he fell, centimeters short of his goal, to slump over her. He had a vague idea that, if she wasn't dead, he was likely to be crushing her under his considerable weight. After that, he knew no more.