Two
Janeway's eyes opened to the sight of a familiar ceiling and her spirits sank. It hadn't worked; she hadn't become first officer instead of—
She rolled over and saw an unfamiliar wall. She shot out of the bed and stared around the room. Yes, there were her belongings, but this room… this room had the same structure as Chakotay's, not hers. Could it actually have worked? Was she first officer now?
Only one way to find out she mused, and reached for the small box residing on her bedside table, where she always had and always would keep her pips. With fingers that trembled slightly, she pulled the lid off the box and saw the slender band of shining metal that she'd seen so many times on Chakotay's neck. She turned it over in her hand, marvelling. It was hers, but still it wasn't. This wasn't really real, was it?
She turned away, the band clutched in her palm, and headed for the closet. Yes, these were the same uniforms she'd worn everyday for so long: red-shouldered and black-bodied.
"Computer?" she questioned, half to convince herself that it did still exist. The walls beeped comfortingly. "Time?"
"The time is 0620," the computer told her. She stared around. 0620. Normally, she would be leaving for her duty shift in less than ten minutes. If this wasn't real, if it was a dream or something along those lines, there wasn't really any point in going to work, was there?
Well, it seemed to be real, and since pinching her arm hard wasn't waking her up, she might as well treat it as if it were real and try to get the crew to notice what was going on. So, selecting a uniform at random, she headed for the bathroom, thanking the powers that be that she knew her way around Chakotay's quarters.
And, as she gazed with trepidation at the shower, she wished she didn't know that these were Chakotay's quarters.
Feeling like she was invading his privacy as she stepped into the small, metal-walled stall, she closed her eyes and did her best not to imagine him there with her. She groaned and turned the power up, hoping to finish washing and get out of there as soon as possible without letting her thoughts stray there again.
It wasn't his shower anyway, she tried to tell herself. From the way all her things were scattered about the other rooms, it looked as if she'd always lived there. So, she thought firmly, this is my shower. He's never been here.
Well, a traitorous voice whispered suggestively, you don't know that. This is a bit of an alternate universe, isn't it? Who knows what might've happened here?
Frustrated with herself, she barked at the computer to turn the shower off with far more irritation than was necessary and dressed quickly. The small, old-fashioned clock in the living room told her she had only ten minutes to get herself to the bridge. Hurrying out of her room, she stepped into a turbolift and had to stop herself from looking oddly at and correcting a crewman who called her "Commander". Once on the bridge, she headed, by force of habit, for her chair and seated herself comfortably.
Chakotay's wry voice from behind her made her jump. "Disoriented?" he questioned.
"No," she replied, one eyebrow quirked, and then her eyes fell on the four metal circles on his neck and she jumped out of his chair. "I mean, I suppose I must be," she said, unsettled, as she sank slowly into the proper chair. Chakotay seated himself beside her, calmly looking over a datapad. She struggled to keep herself from staring at him.
"Captain?" spoke up Harry Kim from behind them.
"Yes?" Janeway and Chakotay answered at once. Chakotay stared at her and she cleared her throat. "Sorry."
"Engineering's requesting permission to take the warp core offline for inspection after yesterday's damage."
"Granted," said Chakotay, standing. "Commander, if you would join me in my ready room?" My ready room, she thought indignantly and she followed him off the bridge. As the doors sealed behind them, he turned on her with an amused but concerned smile. "You've always been ambitious, Kathryn, but really. Answering to "captain"? Sitting in my chair?" He sobered and regarded her more seriously, the amusement gone. "Is there something wrong? Am I doing something wrong?"
"No," she said slowly, wondering what she could say that he would hear, "No. I just had a strange dream last night. It's been… hard to get it out of my head."
He led her to the couch, and she took the opportunity to look around. He'd redecorated—or, more correctly, his choices of decoration were different than hers would have been had she been captain and this her room. Instead of flowers, there was a tropical-looking plant, a photograph of an attractive, dark-skinned woman Janeway recognized as Chakotay's sister, Sekaya, and an old-fashioned globe. On the wall was the simple tapestry she'd seen in his quarters in the… the real universe.
"Tell me about it?" he prodded gently.
"I…" she sighed. "I can't." I should just play sick and go back to my quarters and edit my log. This is ridiculous. Deciding that that was most certainly the best thing—though perhaps not the best example of upstanding Starfleet morals—to do in the situation, she was about to lean forward and clutch, moaning, at her stomach, but he spoke again and she momentarily lost sight of her plan.
"Well, there's still dinner tonight," he said, offering her a slight smile, "If you want to talk then, I'm always willing to listen. But you know that."
She nodded, smiling. It seemed that not much had changed about their relationship in this altered universe. She wondered who'd been the cause of that. Had it been her, now the second-in-command, who'd cited protocol and told him no, or had he stepped back and told her no?
She supposed she could consult the ship's logs if she was really curious… but she wouldn't be here that long. She would be leaving as soon as she could get back to her quarters. Or, more accurately, she would be returning everything to its normal state as soon as she got back to her quarters. His quarters. His old quarters. Her quarters? There was something about this that reminded her far too strongly of a temporal paradox and she repressed the urge to pull her hair out in frustration.
"You can go," he told her lightly, "just so long as you promise not to be sitting in my chair when I come back out there. Got that, Commander?"
She wasn't entirely sure what to feel at that, but she knew it was supposed to be a joke and so she fell back on laughter. "Yes, sir!" she said and saluted, tone crisp even through her wide grin. She pivoted on one heel and marched back onto the bridge, shaking her head to clear it and making a conscious effort to deviate from her normal path and seat herself in the 'proper' chair. Once there, she gazed around and recalled Chakotay's usual list of duties: crew manifests, department reports, system maintenance logs… she sighed faintly. It was going to be a long shift.
Before the lift doors could close from admitting the Gamma crew onto the bridge, Janeway had slipped inside, for once free of the need to officially hand over command to the next officer. She watched Chakotay go through the brief ceremony (which had, admittedly, become briefer as the years had passed and routines became as deep-cut as the Great River Canyon on Vulcan) for the few seconds afforded to her before she was sealed into the turbolift with Sam Wildman, and Harry.
"If you don't mind me asking, Commander," Harry spoke up formally, nearly catching Janeway off-guard, "are you feeling alright?"
"Yes," she said, "Of course, Harry, I'm fine."
He looked taken aback, and she felt a strange tug of sadness as she realized that Tom wasn't with them in this universe. Captain Chakotay wouldn't have known Admiral Paris, wouldn't have known what a gifted pilot said admiral's son was, and wouldn't have gone all the way to the penal colony to get him for his new helmsman. Harry, therefore, had failed to evolve, per se, beyond the fresh-faced, eager ensign, into the relaxed, collected, and experienced man she'd come to know.
"Oh, well, good," Harry said a little awkwardly, looking like he was trying not to give Janeway an odd look. "It was just that you seemed a little… unfocu—" She glanced up at him sharply and he wisely held his tongue.
The doors parted and revealed her deck. She bade her two officers goodnight and stepped out, walking the few meters to her door with quick strides and entered, immediately calling up her log.
"Access to captain's personal log is denied," the computer said, and she froze with her hand halfway to her combadge, about to call a repair crew. Right, she thought, captain's log. I'm not the captain.
"Computer, open Commander's personal log," she corrected herself. There was an answering beep. "Begin recording. I am, and always have been, Voyager's captain. Commander Chakotay is my second-in-command. End recording."
She looked around the room expectantly and waited. And waited. Why wasn't it working? Last time, it had happened instantaneously; she'd just blacked out right away and woken up here. Why was she still there?
Her combadge interrupted her musings, "Chakotay to Janeway."
"Janeway here," she replied, wondering what he wanted.
"You forgot, didn't you?" He sounded amused.
"Forgot what?" she asked, remembering even as she said it: the dinner. But it was only 1700! Surely that was a little early to eat!
"We have a date," he told her wryly. "If you're busy and rather not come, that's fine. We can postpone until tomorrow."
"No," she said, "I'm not busy. I'll be right over."
As she tapped her combadge to cut the link, she realized why it hadn't worked. It was the captain's log that could change things, not her log. Well, going to Chakotay's quarters would give her the chance she needed to get access to the log, but she'd have to be careful. He wasn't, in all likelihood, about to just let her waltz in and record some random things in his personal log. If she missed this opportunity, who knew when the next one would come? She wasn't willing to spend any longer than necessary in this twisted world; she'd break and enter his quarters if it came to it, but really, she'd prefer not to.
The doors slid open for her and revealed Chakotay sitting on his couch, reading a padd. He looked up when she entered and smiled at her while she gazed around. How strange… they were her quarters, but without her furniture and belongings they appeared totally foreign.
He stood, the smile gone. "Are you alright?" he asked kindly, taking a gentle hold of her upper arm. "That dream still on your mind?"
She returned her eyes to him and smiled convincingly. "Just a little tired," she told him. Moving away a bit so she could keep searching the room for some way to access his log without him noticing, her eyes fell on his laptop, sitting innocently on top of his coffee table, just like hers always had. If she could just get him out of the room for thirty seconds, she could hack her way through the codes and get back into her own reality. How hard could it be?
Very hard, it turned out as the evening wore on, and she began to lose hope of settling this then and there. Admittedly, the thought of simply knocking him cold and getting to his log that way had occurred to her several times, but even as she prepared herself to do it, to grab the flower vase, a large padd, or even a dinner plate and bash him over the head with it, she found herself looking into the kind eyes of her long-time friend and her resolve wilted.
After they ate, he recycled the dishes and leftovers and led her to the couch, carrying the half-empty bottle of wine and their glasses. She sat, folding one leg over the other in her usual fashion, and accepted the drink, having decided to let the evening unfold as their weekly dinners often did: work, dinner, drinks, more work, and then light-hearted talk until they retired to their separate quarters.
When Chakotay leaned in to kiss her neck, it seemed as though this evening might be about to stray off the beaten path. She shot away from him as though he were a live wire, dumping her wine all over her leg and the couch in the process.
"Oh!" she cried, standing, "I'm sorry, Chakotay. Let me get a cloth and clean that up."
He only missed half a beat before rising as well and following her to the bathroom. "Don't worry about it," he said, grabbing a cloth from the replicator and wetting it in the sink.
"No, no," she said, a little brusquely, taking the rag from him, "Don't be silly. I made the mess, the least I can do is clean it." She knelt by the couch and scrubbed at the deep red stain, glad of the opportunity to duck her heated face out of his view. She'd have to have a word with whoever said Starfleet captains didn't blush…
At last, once she felt her face had cooled sufficiently, she looked up regretfully. "I think you'll have to replicate some new cushions."
"That's fine," he said, offering her a hand up. "Here, have a seat. No, I won't make you sit on the damp couch." He grinned and gestured to his armchair. "I'll see what I can do about that spot on your uniform."
"Chakotay," she began, "Really, I can replicate new ones—" but she cut herself off as he rubbed the cloth over the stain on her thigh, remembering just why, exactly, that stain was there in the first place. She stopped his hand with hers and he looked at her questioningly.
Her mind raced, scrambling to come up with a plausible excuse. It seemed reasonable to assume that in this reality, they had a relationship. That much was certain. But what she was going to do about it was an entirely different matter. She could just give in and let him take her to bed, have this one night and then erase it all tomorrow, and to be completely honest she was tempted. That wasn't what she wanted, though. If they ever did get their chance, she wanted him to remember it. However much it sounded like one of Tom's bad movies, she wanted it to be love, not some incredibly twisted version of a one-night stand.
But this is your chance to get at that log, a small voice told her darkly. He'll fall asleep afterwards, and you can sneak out and change everything back. He'll never know.
Horrified by her own thoughts, she let go of Chakotay's hand and he cupped her cheek. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"
She nodded, her mind made up. If she did this, it would be a mistake and she would regret it. She would not let herself give in. It was fundamentally unfair, to both of them. "Do you…" she stumbled briefly over her words, "do you mind if I grab something from my quarters? Some… some reports? I'd like to run over them with you."
"Go ahead." He stood and stepped back to allow her to leave. She struggled to keep her steps calm and measured as she fled into the hall. She darted into her living room and searched frantically for any datapad that she might be able to claim related to him. Ah, at last, here was a stack of crew reports, dilithium usage logs, and the specs from the warp core analysis that the chief engineer had run that morning. She thumbed through them swiftly and decided that, while the majority of them fell solely into her domain of responsibility, there were several abnormalities that could possibly be construed as being noteworthy enough for her to want to talk about them.
She took a moment and glanced in the mirror to make sure that she didn't look as flustered and confused as she felt. Running her hands over her hair quickly and tucking several loose strands back into their clasp, she straightened her uniform and took a deep breath to settle her nerves. Finally, now feeling much more in control of the situation, she strode back to Chakotay's quarters.
When she entered, he was pushing new cushions into place on the couch. She held up the padds and smiled, going over and sitting experimentally. "Very nice," she commented, "Almost exactly the same as the old ones."
"Glad you like them," he chuckled, sinking down next to her. "I spent hours picking them out." Sobering, he peered down at the sizable pile of work she was holding. "What's all this?"
She pointed out several names on the top padd, and they fell into their normal, comfortable work mode. Several hours and more than a few glasses of wine later, Janeway almost had herself convinced that she liked the universe better this way.
Chakotay returned from the bathroom, finding himself just in time to watch Kathryn's head droop down to her chest. Poor thing, he thought. I wonder what was on her mind today… she must've been distracted by something. He sighed.
The padd she was holding began to slip from her fingers and he darted forward to catch it before it could wake her with the loud clatter it was sure to make if it was allowed to fall. She stirred briefly as it was taken from her hand, murmuring something vague and unintelligible. Careful not to make a sound, he gathered the other padds and set them on the coffee table, and then retrieved from his closet the nightdress she'd left with him a week ago after being called suddenly to the bridge in the wee hours of the morning. He laid it out on the side of the bed and returned to the living room.
She appeared to be fast asleep, but he knew he'd have to give her several minutes before he could transport her to the bed, where she'd be more comfortable, without her waking and disappearing back to her own room. Content to wait, he sat in the armchair and picked up one of the padds they hadn't gotten around to. It was nothing particularly unusual, just the warp core specs from Carey's analysis, but it had to be read and approved by someone, and that someone might as well be him than her.
When he finished it, he set it aside and evaluated Kathryn. She'd shifted—or fallen—to lie on her side, her legs still crossed and one foot still resting primly on the floor. It didn't look terribly comfortable. But he knew that if she stayed like that much longer, she'd be stiff for hours, and then they would all suffer the Horrible Wrath of the Irritated Commander.
So, he scooped her up off the couch and laid her down on the bed, glad when she hardly stirred. Quickly, with the ease of nearly six months of experience, he undressed her and slipped her into her nightgown, and then pulled the covers up over her. She smiled sleepily and murmured something, shifting to get more comfortable amongst the pillows.
He slipped away for a moment into the bathroom to brush his teeth, returned, changed into his sleepwear, and slid into the bed next to her. She responded immediately to the sudden weight that changed the angle of the mattress beneath her and rolled over, snuggling against him. He smiled and put an arm over her waist, catching a hint of the familiar scent of her hair.
"Sleep well," he wished her softly. She mumbled something that might possibly have been a reply and wrapped her arm around him, holding him so securely that he wouldn't have been surprised if she intended to never let him go.