This has been by far my favourite chapter to write! Enjoy :)


Chapter 4: Let's Leave It Like We Care

No matter how much she tried, it seemed like Kathryn wasn't getting anywhere.

It was useless to try and explain how much the Maquis had assisted in getting Voyager home. Without the guidance of Chakotay or the skills of B'Elanna, Voyager wouldn't have even lasted the first week in the Delta Quadrant.

'Admiral, I don't think you understand – 'she started, running a hand over her face in vain.

'Captain,' Admiral Hayes stressed her title strongly. 'At this point, your orders still stand.'

Starfleet were more concerned about the public image rather than doing what was right. The very thought brought a whole new rush of rage to the surface and Kathryn stood up abruptly, chair flying backwards as she paced her ready room.

With the years spent away from Earth, she had forgotten how infuriating the bureaucrats could be.

'The Maquis don't exist anymore, Sir,' she emphasised strongly, leaning in to the computer screen with menacing force.

The short visit on McKinley station was doing nothing to quell the rising tension amongst the crew. The quarantine issue had yet to be lifted.

Admiral Hayes cleared his throat abruptly. 'Nevertheless, Captain, you will report to debriefings and the fate of the Maquis will be up for debate then.'

A part of her was regretting taking the track to command. Suddenly, being a science officer seemed a lot more appealing.

She convinced herself that she was doing this for her crew. 'Yes, Sir,' she ground out, and ended the transmission.

That every last soul on Voyager would beam off the ship a free man or woman.

She had a sinking feeling that it was going to cost her dearly for the Maquis to go free. But it was her decision that left them out there, and the dark part voice in her head had convinced her over the years that she would do almost anything to set them free.

It didn't matter what it cost her.

She sighed, tiredly dragging a hand over her face.


Chakotay stood back and looked at the cargo containers before him.

It seemed almost impossible that he could have accumulated so many things in the seven years he'd been aboard Voyager. Most of them had come in to possession after the incident with the caretaker; his belongings aboard his own ship had been destroyed with the array.

Over the years, he had become accustomed to the rhythm of life board Voyager; the people, the work and the routine. Although, at times it had been a precarious existence – not knowing from one day to the next what dangers or adversities they would face - he'd found contentment here.

As a young man, the sense of belonging that he'd experienced on Voyager had been sorely lacking, and it was missing again now.

He was feeling off, like his whole world was about to be up-ended and turned the wrong way around.

The sight of his entire life packed into four cargo containers was doing nothing to quell the despair rising up within him.

A quick overview of the contents had turned up each and every one of them relating to Kathryn in some way.

He'd never thought of himself as terribly sentimental when it came to women.

A small jolt ran through him.

He shouldn't have been surprised. He'd been in love with the woman for years.

And he had studiously avoided that woman ever since the accidental run-in with her as he'd gone to visit the newest member of the Paris family.

The feeling it invoked was more sadness than anything. He'd tried desperately not to notice the way she looked with a baby in her arms.

If he was really honest with himself, the Admiral's revelations had disturbed him more than anything.

It was disconcerting to know that in the twenty-three years the other Voyager was in the Delta Quadrant, his and Kathryn's relationship had only deteriorated.

Although, he'd really struggled with the concept of Seven becoming his wife.

The Admiral's predictions at his own grief over Seven's death had seemed so far-fetched, and he'd had to remind himself that their relationship was still so new, and feeling had yet to develop.

What had gotten to him more was the way Admiral Janeway had relayed the story of them.

The Admiral hadn't expanded on that part of their relationship, but he could read between the lines. She had become his stress release and he had used her; taken what he had wanted from her and then left her alone.

It was little wonder she was so bitter and cynical.

He sighed, and began to close up the final containers, ready for them to be shipped to his temporary Starfleet quarters just in time for the de-briefings to start after their 'welcome home' party.

He snorted sardonically to himself. Trust Starfleet to be the ones to turn something in to a big event. Briefly, he wondered how Kathryn had been dealing with all the incoming transmissions.

'Probably with a giant cup of coffee,' he whispered aloud, shutting the container with a bang.

Truthfully, he wanted to go somewhere quiet for a while, to adjust and process the turmoil of the last week.

His gut had clenched each time he'd thought of his relationship with Seven, and he'd squashed it down quickly. It was like a bad memory that was hovering over him, refusing to leave him alone.

Somehow, this developing relationship felt more permanent; something different from the dalliances he'd had aboard Voyager over the years. He wasn't going to deny that he was attracted to Seven; she was… intriguing.

The problem was he had no clue what to do about it.


The senior staff sat crowded around the briefing table for what would be their last ever gathering on Voyager. They'd been scheduled to beam-off at intervals, the more junior staff going first.

The Captain paced impatiently, and her agitation was rubbing off on the senior officers as they waited patiently.

'Last thing on the agenda for today,' she started, looking around the table with unrest. 'Last,' she stressed.

'The Homecoming Ball is tomorrow night,' she began, glaring at Tom Paris as he started to groan rather audibly. 'It's going to be broadcast across the entire quadrant, and of course attended by some fairly high-ranking officers. Your families will be there, so please ensure all staff in your departments act accordingly.'

She sighed, seating herself down in the chair located at the head of the table. 'It's a nightmare, I'm aware. The media will be everywhere,' she shrugged apologetically. 'Apparently, no uniforms either, so wear something nice,' she finished, arching an eyebrow.

She surveyed the staff before her, swallowing roughly as the gravity of the moment began to settle in. Their faces looked at her expectantly, barely concealed frustration ebbing below the surface.

'I know this has been tough on you, and I appreciate your patience,' she said, trying her best to plaster a smile on her features. 'Dismissed.'

The staff filed out of the room, Harry pausing to give her a look that she couldn't quite decipher. His eyes flicked to her right, and he almost looked like he was about to say something before he left the room quickly.

Janeway began to pick up the PADD's littering the table when she realised Chakotay had yet to vacate his place by the window.

Her ire was growing with each passing moment of silence when he finally spoke up.

'Is everything alright, Kathryn?'

She bristled at the use of her first name, but didn't comment. 'Yes, Commander.'

Quite honestly, she wasn't sure what she could class as alright anymore.

He lent back in his chair, smirking.

'Something amusing you?' she shot at him. Her annoyance and hurt at their last conversation in her ready room had failed to subside over the days spent in quarantine.

'I'm trying to imagine you in something other than that uniform,' he said seriously.

If she wasn't mistaken, there was a hint of sadness in his tone.

'Don't,' she said forcefully.

He stood up, and faced her fully. He cleared his throat diplomatically, and the corners of his mouth began to curve in a smile. 'A dress would be nice.'

Her heart fluttered and her stomach lurched. No matter how much he hurt her, he could invoke a smile from her despite her best efforts. 'It means we are being punished.'

He quirked an eyebrow.

She waved a PADD in the air. 'I brought their ship back! Unscathed!,' she exclaimed. 'It's a Starfleet function. We should be allowed to wear our uniforms.'

Chakotay looked at her squarely, a corner of his mouth curled in amusement. 'I'll have to dig out my suit.'

Janeway stepped back, and held the collection of PADD's in front of her chest like a shield. 'I hope you'll assist Seven in choosing suitable attire, Commander.'

He stood up straighter, and gave her a calculating look. It was the first time they'd openly brought up his relationship with the former Borg.

The way she'd said the words stung, and the surprise was etched on his face.

She stepped back again, pivoted on her heel and exited the briefing room.

It was certainly not the way she had wanted to end her last briefing aboard Voyager. It was the first time that Janeway considered that after tomorrow night, she might not see Chakotay again.

And the very thought hurt like hell.


Commander Chakotay's eyes kept drifting back to the Captain as their escorts droned on about the security procedures surrounding their homecoming ball. Paris, Kim, Tuvok, Torres and the Captain were all subtly rolling their eyes. They'd read the briefing, they'd listened to the security escorts – several times – and they were no stranger to security protocols.

Hell, even Seven knew the procedure.

He was distinctly uncomfortable in his suit. The material was too scratchy and stiff, and it reminded him strictly of a time he'd rather not try to remember.

The past twenty-four hours had continued to decline after his brief conversation with the Captain in the briefing room. He'd done his best, and tried to help Seven chose something to wear that wasn't her too-tight catsuit.

In truth, he felt like he was entirely out of his depth. Besides his consistent lack of fashion sense – a reality that neither Janeway or Torres had let him forget over the years – he had rather hard time imaging any dress on any other woman other than the Captain.

The escort was still droning on, and Tuvok was staring with rapt attention. As was Harry. Ever the model Starfleet officer, Chakotay thought with a barely suppressed sarcastic thought.

Paris was harassing Torres, and Seven was observing the situation with an arched eyebrow.

The Captain was being distracting.

She probably didn't even know just how distracting she was being.

Although, knowing Janeway, she probably had more than an idea.

He was finding it decidedly hard to take his eyes off her. He swallowed roughly, and tugged on his ear, listening with feigned eagerness to the escort. He sure as hell didn't want her to know he was looking, and he definitely did not want Seven catching on.

His mouth had gone dry when she had walked in.

It had been his good luck for once that she had been distracted trying to squash something into her small purse so she didn't notice the look on his face.

He'd worked in close quarters with her for seven years. He was used to her teasing, subtle touches and even her flirtatious side. His stomach clenched tightly when he remembered those first few years when the Captain had been unguarded.

But he was well aware she was attractive. He was even more aware that he'd been constantly attracted to her on some level throughout the years.

Just because he'd fallen in love with her once didn't mean that he was fated to want her for all eternity.

He was, though, not expecting her to walk in looking like this.

She looked so… expensive. And not at all like the Captain.

Her eyes flicked over to his and she gave him a look he couldn't decipher. Slender fingers fiddled with the chain around her neck.

With surprise, he noticed her long-forgotten engagement ring on her finger.

Her head titled to one side elegantly in an eerily reminiscent gesture of the late Admiral. She leant back on the transporter console, elbows resting on the top and one hand drumming ornate fingers rhythmically on the hard surface.

Chakotay swallowed and forced himself to look anywhere but there.

He jumped when Seven placed a hand on his arm, and he realised that their escort had finished speaking.

Seven's confused glance told him she didn't miss his surprise.

The first of the senior staff assembled on the platform and Chakotay's eyes drifted back to the Captain. She blew a tendril of auburn hair out of her eyes and nodded in the direction of the transport officer.

The staff shimmered away and the remaining few moved forward to take their spots on the pad.

The Captain moved forward, and stepped up next to Chakotay. Seven stood stoically on his right.

He swallowed roughly as the Captain came a little bit too close. She even smelled expensive.

He looked at her. 'Ready to go?'

She scoffed and gave him a glare out of the corner of her eye.

'Are you armed?' he asked seriously.

'Is that a requirement?' she shot back.

'Kathryn,' he started, swallowing his panic. 'You need to be able to protect yourself.'

She dropped her head to the side sarcastically, mouth set in a hard line as her eyes searched his face. 'I have something,' she stated flatly, and turned away from him.

The transporter chief began to activate their beam-out.

He didn't even want to begin to imagine exactly where she'd put that weapon.

They'd materialised outside the building, family and officers waiting with barely concealed impatience for the command crew of Voyager.

He'd barely gotten his bearings when a tall man with grey hair came striding out of the crowd so quickly that the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He was about to shout at Kathryn to when he caught the look on her face.

It was a look he'd seen only once, on a planet far away from here when it was just the two of them and a damned monkey.

He heard her speak softly. 'Mark.'

She stepped into his embrace openly, and Chakotay watched with morbid fascination as the man wrapped his arms around the Captain, holding the back of her head with a delicate touch.

He didn't miss the way Kathryn leant up, her face buried closely in the curve of his neck.

The scene got to him in a way that he didn't expect. Mark had been a long-distant figure in world far away.

After the Dear John letter Kathryn had received, Chakotay had never expected to hear about the man again.

Yet here he was.

He shouldn't have been surprised. If Kathryn had disappeared from his life, it wouldn't have matter how long she'd been gone, he'd be right there the second she got back.

Turning away, he squashed his thoughts away and smiled at Seven. 'Is your Aunt here?'

Seven regarded him with her usual cool expression. 'I believe so.'

He held out his arm, indicating Seven should head in that general direction and she moved off.

He resisted the urge to glance over his shoulder at the Captain one last time. Although if he had, he might have seen Kathryn take off her engagement ring and hand it to the man who stood in front of her before saying goodbye.


A few hours later, and Chakotay was more than ready to approach the Captain and ask her precisely where she had hidden that weapon if only so he could turn it on himself.

Everywhere he went, people asked him questions and quizzed him incessantly on their life in the Delta Quadrant. Starfleet had their officials following them at every opportunity, keeping a close watch on what was said and to whom.

The favourite topic of conversation was of course his relationship with Captain Janeway.

It wasn't entirely unexpected, but annoying all the same.

Seven had been surprisingly open to the experience, wanting to dance at almost every opportunity – no thanks to her lessons with the Doctor. Apparently, she had a new appreciation for 'paganist cultural rituals'.

His feet were now rubbed red raw from his ridiculous dress shoes.

He'd graciously met most of the family members from the crew. Seven's aunt had been reserved, but opened up the more she got to know the niece that had been lost all those years ago.

Seven's blunt attitude definitely needed work.

The Janeway's had been a family he'd been curious to meet above all. They'd of course, been thrilled to have Kathryn home, but he couldn't shake the feeling of cautiousness that their conversations had brought.

They'd been reserved in interacting with him.

Briefly, he wondered what it was that Kathryn had told them.

He hadn't seen the Captain all evening. She had been shuffled around between Starfleet's finest, obviously charming them all with her with and grace.

True to form, she had accepted everything in her stride, danced with, drank with, and spoken to them all at length.

Chaktay had a feeling she was doing some serious groundwork into the Maquis and Equinox fight that he knew would come the second they started their de-briefings.

He definitely needed a drink.

Heading toward the bar, he stopped abruptly when he saw Kathryn hovering near the end of the area. He was momentarily content to run his eyes over her exposed back without the risk of being caught.

The fairness of her skin was a sharp contrast to the deep blue of her gown, and the rich red of her hair.

He shook his head roughly, reminding himself strongly of who she was and who he was here with.

Not for the first time that day, he found himself questioning if the relationship with Seven was what he really wanted.

He caught the tail end of Kathryn's order as he appeared next to her.

'What are you drinking?' he asked.

She looked at him with a twinkle in her eye. 'You look like you've been battling the Kazon for six hours, Commander.'

He suppressed a grimace, and lent on the bar.

Her drink arrived promptly, and she picked up the glass, eyeing him over the top of the rim. 'Whiskey,' she supplied.

He looked at her quizzically. 'The real thing?'

She titled her head to the side, exposing a long expanse of pale neck. Her eyes narrowed, and she looked away, watching the mass of people – mainly the crew- milling around the dance floor.

Her cheeks were slightly flushed and her blue eyes were bright. She looked even better this close than she did from a far.

She didn't look at him as she spoke. 'Seven enjoying herself?'

He swallowed his discomfort and answered with an air of nonchalance. 'I think so. My feet are pretty sore.'

She snorted. 'Bet you mine are worse.'

He glanced down. Her slim feet were encased in impossibly high heels. No wonder she had seemed taller next to him on the transporter pad.

She took another drink of her whiskey, eyes closing as the liquid burnt its way down her throat. 'I'm only going to say this once, Chakotay.'

His interest piqued, he regarded her.

'Go easy on Seven. It will take time,' she spoke. 'You're her first relationship.'

Now he really wished he'd ordered a drink.

Her statement had such an air of sadness about it, and it pulled at his heart. He wanted to desperately to reach over and smooth the lines of sadness away from her eyes.

He looked at her fully, and seriously. 'You're never going to tell me what the Admiral said to you, are you?'

The corner of her mouth lifted in a sardonic half-smile. 'Temporal prime directive.'

His gaze roamed her hands, to the auburn hair balanced in a messy waterfall on her shoulder. It was longer than he remembered.

He raked his eyes over the curve of her neck, exposed collarbones and back to her blue eyes. Her throat moved as she swallowed the whiskey.

Her blue eyes had gone dull, the hurt etched there plainly for him to see.

If there was one thing he was certain of in that moment, it was that he would never understand this woman.


The night was nearing its end.

Unfortunately for Kathryn, 'protocol' dictated that the last dance of the night be conducted with the senior staff.

Protocol.

Oh, how she hated that word.

She'd give all the coffee in the galaxy to see Picard and Riker dance together right now.

Her brave front that she'd kept in place all night was beginning to wear thin. Her feet hurt, her head hurt and all the constant questions were beginning to irritate her.

Only her mother and sister could see through it, and she had studiously ignored their concerned glances for the last hour.

She was going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning.

Just as she was beginning to plan her escape, Chakotay appeared beside her and began to steer her toward the dancefloor. He murmured something in her ear that she completely missed.

The music started, and their movements were awkward and off-centre. Kathryn was uncomfortable and stiff.

She felt as if every pair of eyes were on her and her now-former first officer. She didn't want to be this close to him.

Chakotay read her body language perfectly, and leant in to whisper to her. 'Relax, Kathryn.'

She took a step back, and tilted her head up to look at him. 'I don't…' she trailed off, unsure of what to say.

He moved his hand along her back, pressing his fingertips lightly into the groove of her spine and urging her closer again. His fingers were cool against her too-warm skin, and the pressure was unyielding to the point where she had no choice but the lean into him.

Sighing, she followed his lead, treading carefully in her heels and trying to avoid his toes at all costs. She noticed with gratitude that Tom and B'Elanna had moved in closer, trying their hardest to shield the command team from prying eyes.

The minutes slowly ebbed by, and she forced herself to relax. She wrapped an arm around his shoulder, and leant in to his neck.

She suddenly realised she wasn't ready to let their friendship go just yet.

His hand inched that fraction lower on her back, making their stance not entirely uncomfortable, but more intimate than she would have liked. Another hand found the base of her neck, entangling itself in her hair and encouraging her to lean closer into his neck.

The bitter voice of the Admiral appeared in her head.

His aftershave was assaulting all her senses and making her dizzy. It was intoxicating in a way that was not unwelcome.

He was intoxicating.

They moved together, the whiskey making her head spin. She wasn't even sure that the dance was anymore. Chakotay was just moving his feet and she was blindly following his lead.

She was far too wrapped up in the feel of him to worry about anything else.

His breath was rhythmic against the top of her head as his lips moved.

'Kathryn, I…'

A loud bang startled her, and the spell was broken. She stepped back quickly, suddenly frightened at what he was going to say.

'Don't,' she whispered, shaking her head slightly but feeling it spin regardless.

He looked at her through a heated gaze, an array of emotion flickering across his face. She could see the lust, but the sadness lurked there as well.

She had to get away.

She had to get away before he voiced those feelings and she did something she was going to regret.

She didn't want to hear those three words that would ruin the moment.

Meeting his gaze squarely, she strengthened herself for the words she knew she had to say.

She raised a hand to his cheek, and drew her bottom lip between her teeth. His stubble felt rough against the smoothness of her palm.

'Goodbye, Chakotay.'

Her words were final, soft and sad before she turned and walked away, leaving him in the middle of the dance floor.


Both B'Elanna and Tom had been watching the command team with interest.

It was like an approaching train wreck that they couldn't look away from.

They had watched with tense gazes as the dance had started between the two, eyes unblinking as they watched the two relax. B'Elanna's nails had been digging painfully into Tom's arm when Chakotay had moved his hand into the Captain's hair and whispered something in her ear.

They held their breath waiting for the final face-to-face revelation to grab their whole body.

Only it never came. Within seconds, the atmosphere had changed, and they watched as the Captain stepped back, laid a small hand on the Commander's cheek and walked away quickly.

'What was that?' Tom whispered, manoeuvring both him and his wife so prying eyes didn't see the Commander standing alone.

'I think,' B'Elanna started sadly, 'I think that was goodbye.'


"The underground, your hide-out

That chamber, where you still hung waiting

For your torturer"- Ted Hughes: 'Your Paris'