A/n: This chapter is dedicated to Sweetdeath04, who's been helping me with my writing a lot, but especially with this fic. Thanks! :)
Nathaniel Harrow cleared his throat nervously as Chakotay stalked onto the Bridge, standing stiffly by his command chair without sitting in it, the Valjean crew had all noticed recently that he avoided sitting in that chair. In fact, they'd been noticing a lot of things in the past month, ever since they'd escaped from Terok Din. The change that had affected them all was the tension that now filled the Bridge, or anywhere their commander went, so thick that a knife slicing through it wouldn't have dispersed it. His mood had darkened and although Terok Din had undoubtedly taken its toll on him as well as every one of them, that wasn't the most popular theory accounting for his suddenly brittle temper. Whatever was troubling Chakotay though, wasn't dragging down their performance as a Maquis unit, after repairs had been completed this month had seen some of their most effective strikes against the Cardassians and the Federation alike, but the same couldn't said of the crew's morale. Where easy camaraderie and a supportive atmosphere had once existed, drawing them all together, presently conversation was stilted and nerves were under constant siege by an unvoiced strain.
Nathaniel coughed when Chakotay regarded them all silently, his sleepless eyes lost deep in thought. Several of his fellow crewmembers glared at him disapprovingly, fearing that one of the eggshells they were walking on might be broken, but Nathaniel felt oppressed by this unnatural silence. However, it was the relentlessly optimistic Chell, guileless as ever, who actually spoke up. "What are our orders now Chakotay?" he asked pleasantly.
Chakotay's hand moved to his face as he sighed, tempted to rub his eyes, but his professionalism kicked in. "We've to go to Neliki IV to recruit a new pilot, apparently there are a few skilled men there who are sympathetic to our cause."
"But I think you and Mr Tuvok are doing a great job piloting the ship!" Celes piped up enthusiastically.
"Obviously the Maquis leaders don't think so." Seska remarked drily from the back of the Bridge. If the tiny Briefing Room they had always used previously hadn't had its electrics knocked out back at Terok Din, Chakotay would've taken this meeting in there and locked Seska out, but as it was the Bridge, with its free access, would have to do.
He saw Celes blush in mortification and smiled at her reassuringly. For a moment everyone saw a glimpse of the old Chakotay. "Thanks for saying so Celes but Tuvok and I actually agree with this order, we'll need a truly professional pilot to get us anywhere near Deep Space Eleven's satellite station."
B'Elanna took in a sharp breath. "They want us to attack that new armoury? They'll have ships patrolling that surely? It's deep into Federation space."
"That is precisely why we require a skilled covert pilot." Tuvok pointed out.
There was a short pause before Seven's, level, detached voice was heard. "Either way, we cannot ignore that installation. According to messages that I've decrypted between Deep Space Eleven and Starfleet Headquarters, those weapons will be shared with the Cardassians to suppress the Maquis. We cannot allow that, these weapons are so volatile they must be kept adrift of the main station."
"Seven's right." Chakotay said softly, his serious gaze taking in everyone else while skipping quickly over Seven herself. "This could be our most vital assignment yet." He breathed another sigh as he read the apprehensive expressions around him, "But let's not worry about that right now, we need to get that pilot first."
"Yes sir." They chorused quietly, many noting that Seven didn't join them, already moving towards the door. That was another sudden change that had occurred in the past month, the palpable strain between Chakotay and Seven. Their relationship wasn't infused with the sparking animosity that now characterised the one between Chakotay and Seska, but it was drifting into skilful avoidance and even indifference, which was much more unsettling for observers than a little bad blood between former flames. Whatever their initial impressions, and feelings, towards the ex-drone had been, all of the crew had had to accept her inclusion as a condition of their own. They'd grown used to the fact that she was Chakotay's constant shadow, and he her guide. Everything indicated that they had been happy that way, but now something had pulled them drastically apart. Just now, Chakotay had religiously avoided looking at her, when previously he'd always at least glanced at her every so often even when talking to others, as if checking on her. Seven was displaying similar behaviour. She'd never been talkative, but now even the enquiring blunt questions she'd always been confident to ask Chakotay went unsaid, she stuck to facts even more strictly than Tuvok.
"B'Elanna, get back down to Engineering. We'll need a minimum of warp six to get to Neliki IV in reasonable time." Chakotay ordered distractedly.
"Understood." B'Elanna replied in a business like tone, "Chell, Celes, with me."
The Bolian and Bajoran obediently joined her to walk to Engineering, but predictably Chell couldn't make the short journey without filling it with chatter. "I think Chakotay must be feeling his break up with Seska more each day, his mood just seems to get worse…"
"You think so?" Celes asked curiously, "I heard he broke up with Seska."
Chell's blue chin wobbled doubtfully, "I thought so too but I'm not sure anymore. What else can it be? Even stoic Seven can't seem to handle him anymore…"
"We're supposed to be concentrating on how to maximise our decrepit old warp engine, not analysing Chakotay's love life!" B'Elanna interrupted irritably as she forced open the aged, stiff door to Engineering.
Celes was suitably chastened to fall quiet, but Chell couldn't quite let go. "Do you know something B'Elanna?"
B'Elanna inhaled sharply to curtail her exasperation as she met Chell's innocently open gaze, "All I know is that Seska is just a needle in a haystack of his issues and it's not our job to try to sort through them. Now get to work!"
Seven hovered in the Bridge despite her desire to remove herself from Chakotay's presence as quickly as possible, an irrational need that had developed exponentially since the aftermath of Terok Din. A large part of her wanted to resist the feelings that still stubbornly lingered, the hurt, guilt and anger, but every time she attempted to forget what had happened the memories returned with fresh clarity. The disgust and fear she'd had to repress as Ishek touched her, the pain she'd experienced as Chakotay lashed out at her, the guilt and regret than ran through her as she'd passionately retaliated… She'd gradually come to the conclusion that she couldn't get over it and Chakotay certainly wasn't showing her any signs that he could either.
Chakotay watched her stiff posture from behind as he watched her stand indecisively by the doorway. A lump rose in his throat for a moment but he swallowed it down hard, gripping the edge of the console he was leaning on. "What are you planning to do Seven?" he eventually asked, chilled by the ice in his tone as much as she was.
"I could be useful in Engineering but I doubt B'Elanna would consider my presence there helpful." Seven replied without turning to look at him. "I could attempt to hack into the Federation comm. traffic again if you wish." She suggested awkwardly with a glance towards her Bridge console.
Chakotay took a deep breath as she looked at him, shaken by her resolutely impassive expression. It had been a long time since he couldn't read at least a flicker of some sort of emotion on her face. "I think that's a good idea." He agreed slowly.
Seven nodded sharply, surprising Chakotay by coming a few steps closer to him. "I presume you do not wish me to come with you to find this pilot?" she questioned, her tone hard.
"No!" Chakotay said vehemently, "You're staying here!"
Seven couldn't stop herself from gulping, stung by the hot flare in his eyes as he responded, staring straight at her for the first time in days. "Fine." She conceded curtly, immediately striding over to her console and burying her head in her work.
Seven, in reality, misread his reasoning and feelings. It wasn't really a need to punish which made Chakotay confine Seven to the ship, although he still felt that toxic mix of frustration and guilt when he brooded over what had happened with her, it was fear. In the first days following the events at Terok Din, he'd been reluctant to let anyone off the ship; worry at getting someone killed consuming him. He'd let this got for the majority of the crew as they returned to their Maquis duties but relating to Seven this anxiety only seemed to be intensifying with time. Right now, the thought the thought of her leaving the ship at all wracked him with an icy nausea he couldn't rationalise. In tandem with his growing protectiveness of his crew, Chakotay's recklessness concerning his own life had also grown. He didn't see this as necessarily a bad thing, he got a lot more done this way and had even been praised for his bravery, but he knew what Seven would think of it without asking. That was the factor that was prolonging their shared misery, they both longed for the trust and confidence they'd always shared with each other, but were mourning it rather than trying to bring it back to life.
When Chakotay walked into the bar he'd been directed to in the main settlement on Neliki IV, he nearly walked straight back out again. He didn't believe the sort of people he'd want in his crew, no matter how desperate he was, would ever frequent a place like this. It was defiantly seedy, on a planet which was desperate to shake its frontier image. The walls were thin and bowing, the ceiling so low that the smoke rising from the patrons' illegal cigarettes was sandwiched cloyingly between the dangling lights and the plates of greasy food served from a crumbling old replicator. There were a couple of dabo tables, with the obligatory group of scantily clad women around them, a bar that stretched the whole of one wall and a dingy pool table in the middle of it all. For a moment Chakotay remembered light-hearted pool games in the Cadets' Union building at the Academy, but those days felt like a lifetime ago, if he'd really lived them at all. His attention was drawn to the bar anyway, by his burly informant. "Over here!" he hissed. Chakotay didn't know his name and vice versa, it was better that way.
"Where's my pilot?" he asked in hushed tones.
The man jabbed his thumb towards the far end of the bar. "Human, blonde and skinny. He calls himself Paris."
Chakotay couldn't stop his eyebrows from rising, in comparison to this particular man; almost anyone could be called "skinny". "Right, thanks." He muttered and plunged off towards the end of the bar, stopping abruptly when he was almost certain he'd found his mark. Paris, if that was his name, looked around his age, early to mid twenties, tall and relatively well built with fair hair that seemed tousled as he bent over a large drink. Chakotay reluctantly slid onto the stool next to him, already regretting his decision to stay as he caught a strong whiff of synthehol. "Paris?" he asked curtly.
The man turned his head to look at him fully and Chakotay was surprised to see that his blue eyes were keen and appraising rather than clouded with drink. His confirmation was a smirk, "Thomas Eugene, but I only answer to Tom." He said drily. He sat up straight on the stool, studying Chakotay intently. "So you're the one who wants to hire a pilot?" He swirled his drink in its dull glass and waited for the other man's reaction.
Chakotay answered with a perfunctory nod, "That's right. My group needs another pilot."
"Another one?" Tom echoed, "I'm not into back seat flyers…"
"I'll be taking a step back from the comm." Chakotay assured him coolly, "But you'll still hear from me often enough."
"Right." Tom muttered. He couldn't quite believe this guy was a Maquis commander, he could tell they were probably around the same age. There was something about him though, battle had obviously hardened him, with the deadly serious, but weirdly calm vibe we was getting from him, as if he didn't care when he very clearly did. "So what's the pay like?" he remarked, only half-joking.
"You get everything to keep you alive and something better to do that sit around a hole like this." Chakotay answered tersely, the subject of payment, when the Maquis was a cause he served and believed in himself, hit a nerve.
Tom pretended to think about it. "Good enough." He said briskly, "It's not like I can fly legally anymore, Starfleet revoked my licence after a few…disagreements."
"You're doing this because of some grudge against a flight instructor?" Chakotay asked disbelievingly, "Do you know what you're signing up for? We need more loyalty than a mercenary with a grudge can give…" He started to walk away but Tom held him back.
Tom gave a bitter laugh. "You're not really going to tell me you're doing this entirely for a higher cause are you? The Maquis are all about revenge!"
"Paris, huh?" Chakotay mused darkly as Tom's barb sunk in, "You're not related to that Admiral are you?"
Tom flinched, although he tried to hide it. "For your information, I disagree with the Cardassian occupation as much as any one of you, as for my other reasons, if there were any, they're none of your business, any more than yours are mine! You do need a pilot don't you, whether he's a mercenary or a saint?"
Chakotay began to pull him towards the doorway, his frown deep and bitter with foreboding. "Let's go."
A/n: PLEASE REVIEW! :D This chapter was difficult and it'll be my last update of anything for at least a few days until I get settled at uni. (Unless I get a break in my packing tomorrow which is unlikely, lol) It'll probably be next week some time, please stick with me! :)