Chapter Two

            The world swirled around her vision.  She closed her eyes, but the nauseating spinning continued unabated.  The sick spins, the stage after the pleasant buzz, but before the unpleasant nausea.  Her sister Phoebe loved the feeling, or so she used to claim.  Kathryn Janeway had always hated it.

            She took a deep, steadying breath, trying to force herself to focus.  She'd been staggering down the street for what seemed like hours, to the point where she no longer had any idea whether she was even walking the right direction to the transporter mat.    She had stopped to get her bearings.  She found herself waiting longer than she'd expected, the wall of the building cold and hard against her palms.  She thought that if she let the wall go, she'd fall right onto the ground, fall into the swirling vortex in her head.

            A thought surfaced: call for help.  Her hand felt its way around her chest, met only the coarse fabric of her shirt.  Then she remembered her plan: escape Starfleet, escape Him for a few hours; she'd left her comm badge at home.

            Tears came to her eyes, unchecked.  She hated this.  She was lost and she couldn't think.  Her mind flashed back to the man at the bar-- she'd forgotten his name-- who'd offered, then insisted on giving her a ride.  His palm, hot and fleshy, against her thigh, inching inwards.  Right in public, as though for show-- such blatant disrespect for her.  Her skin was going numb when he slipped his hand under her skirt, between her thighs, beneath her underwear.  His audacity would have infuriated her if she hadn't felt so numb already.  She sat there, a part of her objecting, the rest just wanting to go to sleep, as he whispered words and played his finger around her flesh.

            They were in a corner booth, but when she looked up, she saw two men across the room watching, leering towards her, amused.  They may even have recognized her.  She realized the men had to see everything.  She clawed at his hand, pulled against his grip, bumping hard into the table as she tottered to her feet. The men were snickering.  His hand brushed fleetingly against the back of her thigh as she stumbled forward through the hazy dimness of the bar, out into the fresh air of the street.

            Then what seemed like hours of weaving through Paris streets.  She gave up trying to figure out where she was, and leaned forward against the wall.  Maybe if she just waited here a while, let the darkness spin around her, she'd figure it out.  Or the nightmare would end.

            Scuffling footfalls drifted to her ears, growing steadily louder and more intent.  She closed her eyes tightly, unable to flee if she tried.

            Then, a disapproving male voice, "Made a spectacle of yourself enough for one night, Kathryn?"

            A chill came over her.  She focused her eyes, unseeing, on the ground.

            He continued in a cool and impersonal tone, "You know, it took me a while to find you.  You covered your tracks like a professional-- I have to give you credit for that."

            She clenched her fists against the wall, and drew in a ragged breath, refusing to turn.  In a hoarse voice,  "I just needed to get away for a while; can't you give me that?"

            She heard him step closer, and then felt his breath lightly on the back of her neck.  "Need, need...  If I indulged your every whim, Kathryn, I imagine I'd find myself locked in a cell in Auckland before the day was out."  She felt his fingertips brushing hair from her neck, tickling her flesh.  He added in a lower, huskier tone,  "Isn't that right?"

            "Auckland?" she said between gritted teeth.  "That's too gentle a fate.  I'd send you straight to Cardassia."

            She heard him chuckle dryly behind her, with little mirth.  The fingers slowed on her skin, and spread around to clutch the back of her neck in a vaguely threatening gesture that sent goose bumps down her arms.

            "I think it's time we went home, dear."

            The hand around her neck squeezed a little, urging her around.  Kathryn followed his directives unsteadily, fighting against the whirling in her head.

            "I have to say, you surprised me," he spoke up from against her back as she staggered down the street.  "If all you wanted was a raw fuck and a hangover, I could easily have arranged it for you."

            He cheapened her motives with a few short words, and she felt choked by sudden rage.  Not for the first time, she thought of killing this man, and felt impotent fury burning through her at the knowledge that she couldn't.  By God, if she'd met him in the Delta Quadrant--

            "Honestly, though, Kathryn, I thought you were above these baser instincts."

            She balled her hands, trembling with anger, into tight fists at her sides.  "It's useless to explain to you," she said in a hard voice.  Then, searching for the proper invective, she spat, "You pig-headed fuck!"

            "Easy, easy darling," his hand patted her on the shoulder.  "Methinks the alcohol's drawing out the Irish in you.  We're about to enter a public transporter pad.  Won't do for you to cause a scene, will it?"

            She bit back her retort to that as voices slowly came into earshot.  His hand loosened around her neck, and slipped casually around her shoulders, holding her steady.  Automatically, she fumbled to clutch his waist as they entered the public transporter room.

            Immediately, the two attendants, young men with Lieutenant's pips, shot to attention.  Then recognition came across the young men's faces.

            "Admiral Janeway!  Admiral Durant!"

            Kathryn smiled weakly as Durant drew a step forward, hand extended to the nearest young officer.

            "Pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant--"

            "Bhat, sir.  Lamar Bhat."

            The other chimed in as John Durant shook his hand,  "Freddy Perkins."

            "I guess you two recognize my wife, Kathryn?" Durant gestured to Janeway.

            As he shook hands with her, Bhat nodded his head.  "You'd have to be in another quadrant not to!" he caught himself, and said,  "All respect intended, ma'am."

            She inclined her head once, too weary to dwell on his words.

            Durant grinned broadly at the two young men.  "Slow night, gentlemen?"

            "Oh, yes sir.  No one likes to come to Paris in this weather," Lieutenant Bhat replied quickly.

            "Well, Kathryn's always been fond of the cold.  Isn't that right, hon?"

            Janeway forced a smile across her lips, hoping she didn't look as ill as she suddenly felt.  "That's right, darling."

            "So, Admirals, what destination?"  Lieutenant Perkins asked, stepping behind the transporter pad.

            Durant put out an arm to help Kathryn up the platform in a show of chivalry.  In truth, he was making sure she didn't stumble and make a fool of them both.

            "San Francisco, my good man."

            Lieutenant Perkins began to tap in the coordinates, but before he energized, Lieutenant Bhat called,  "Admiral Durant!"

            "Lieutenant?" Durant said mildly, a light smile on his face.

            "Sir," Bhat seemed somewhat flustered.  "I know it's probably not my place to ask, but are the rumors true you're running for President?"

            Durant grinned.  "Two things, son.  First, as a Federation citizen, it's always your place to ask.  And second... I guess we'll have to wait and see, eh?"

            Bhat gazed up at him with admiration, and Kathryn felt sheer, unadulterated disgust.  "Well, sir, regardless of what happens, know you'll always have my vote.  A vote for Durant is a vote for the future, eh, sir?"

            Durant nodded austerely.  "Thank you, Lieutenant.  Good officers like you keep the Federation strong."  Then, with a plaster smile at the other Lieutenant, he called, "Energize."

            Perkins tapped in the appropriate code, and the Paris platform faded into oblivion around them.

*          *          *

            "I honestly don't know what she was thinking," Durant's harsh voice came to her over the pounding in her temples.  She tried to shut the voice out.  If she could fall asleep again, she might hide from the rolling in her stomach and the pain tearing through her head.

            "Did you have a disagreement?"  Asked the cool voice of Empek.

            "Nothing worse than the usual.  She didn't want to go to the Voyager reunion, I didn't force her to.  I didn't think she'd run off to some bar and offer her cunt to the first sleazebag who'd buy her a drink."

            Kathryn pressed her arms over her ears, squeezing her eyes tightly, pained and thoroughly humiliated.  She truly had wanted to drink enough to forget her problems for awhile.  She hadn't been after "a raw fuck and a hangover."  What's worse is that Durant undoubtedly knew he'd awoken her; he knew she could hear him.  He usually met with Empek in his office; there was no need to speak with him over the com in Kathryn's room unless he wanted her to hear.

            "How's damage control?" Durant asked.

            "I've taken care of the witnesses," Empek replied in that business tone of his.  "A healthy deposit into two accounts, and a promise of a future deposit.  The third was slightly more... uncooperative.  I regret that he had to be taken care of."

            Durant chuckled.  In a teasing voice, he said,  "You old dog-- you don't regret that."

            "Perhaps not," Empek acknowledged.  "But pleasurable work aside, it would help if you reigned in your wife from these... impulses of hers.  I can't take care of it every time."

            "I'll keep a closer eye on her.  She always slips away when I'm busy," Durant sighed heavily, as if the weight of the universe were on his shoulders.  "Kathryn...  Jesus.  She's gone without a good fuck for... what is it, nine years now?  God knows," Durant continued.  "Maybe I'd better start screwing the bitch, keep her happy."

            She stiffened, and tried to raise her voice in objection, but a sudden wave of nausea at her slight movement suppressed the urge.  It wouldn't do her any good, anyway.

            She remembered early in the marriage when he'd actually tried to assert his 'rights' as her husband.  She'd returned to her chamber after a particularly trying reception, and he'd staggered in uninvited, half drunk.  Durant had groped wildly for a few minutes, even managed to knock her down beneath him before she grabbed his crotch and wrenched hard enough to double him over.  He'd limped away like a whipped cur, and hadn't dared touch her since.  He didn't mind his henchmen doing dirty business for him, but he'd never put himself in harm's way.

            Kathryn knew that Durant wouldn't dare lower himself in the eyes of Empek by requesting help in subduing a woman half his size.  He'd disassociated himself with her instead.  Since that incident, he'd taken every opportunity to insult her appearance, referring to her as an "old hag" or making an offhand comment about a thick stomach-- as though to prove to her and his associate that he didn't sleep with her because he found her unattractive.   As relieved as she was that he kept his paws off of her, a part of her felt the sting of his remarks.  At 45, she was a few years younger than him than him, and her body was as firm and slim as it was when she was in her 20s, but a part of her had even begun to believe his derogatory comments.  She started to see saggy breasts where there were none, a heavy waist where she was still petite.  She became acutely aware of  her age.  When her hunger raged, she increasingly found herself settling with coffee out of an unreasonable fear of weight gain.

            And as time passed, Kathryn began to wonder if she'd even have the ability to fight Durant off if he tried again.  Despite her bravado, she was painfully aware of her slipping ground in the arrangement.  She did her best to hide it from him, knowing he would exploit her weaknesses for all they were worth, but there were times that she felt she'd been exposed for what she'd become.  There were times when she swore he saw her vulnerability.

            Times like last week.

            Her eyes pricked with tears, but she blinked them back.  It would do her no good to dwell on that.  Five of Voyager's crewmembers, crewmembers she'd never see again.  Tal Celes, Ken Dalby, Megan Delaney, Jenny Delaney, Mortimer Harren.  They'd all died within one week.  A "latent retro-virus".  What a joke.

            The reunion was going to double as a memoriam to those who'd recently passed.  She knew how it must have looked to her crew when she'd skipped the event, but she couldn't face them.  She knew she'd been responsible for those deaths, and it would be outright hypocrisy to stand before them and weave an intricate tribute to five people she might as well have killed with her own hand.

            Durant announced that he wanted to be a father.  A politician has to be a family man to look credible, he'd told her.  She'd outright refused his demand, telling him that she'd never inflict the galaxy with a spawn of Jonathan Durant. He assured her that she could get pregnant via surgical means-- no penetration required.  He assured her the thought of her naked repulsed him anyway.  She still refused.

            The next day, a padd had arrived at her office.

Crewman Tal Celes

Crewman Kenneth Dalby

Ensign Megan Delaney

Ensign Jennifer Delaney

Crewman Mortimer Harren

               

            And then Janeway received word, one by one, of their deaths from a mysterious, latent virus, likely picked up in the Delta Quadrant.  Each transmission she received sickened her, because she knew exactly what transmission she'd receive next... exactly who else would fall victim.

            Durant called her into his office at the end of the week, Voyager's crew manifest displayed prominently on the screen behind him.  Empek stood impassively at Durant's side.  On the other screen was a Doctor from a local fertility clinic.  Durant asked for her decision about the baby, beaming, putting on the show of a hopeful father-to-be for the fertility doctor.  Defeated, and shaken with grief, Janeway attested to her desire for children to the Doctor.  Durant smiled at her in that patronizing way the whole time, wrapping an arm around her waist to give the doctor a good image.  They set up an appointment for the following week.  When the transmission cut off, Durant stroked his hand fondly on her rear, as though his favorite pet had performed some trick.

            "I knew you'd be a good girl, Kathryn."

            Janeway saw red.  Rage, hot and potent, flooded her as she thought of those crewmen, and the words ripped from her lips,  "*You bastard!*"

            Her fist lanced towards him as if by instinct.  With inhuman speed, Empek shot forward and caught her arm.  Janeway tried to jolt back out of his grip, but Empek wrenched her arm up at a sickening angle.  There was nothing for a split second, and then Janeway felt an unbearable surge of pain shoot up her arm.  A guttural cry escaped her lips as Empek coldly jerked her arm again, forcing her to crouch on her knees to avoid the bone breaking.

            Durant watched it all impassively from his desk.  He leaned back in his chair, scrutinizing Kathryn's pain-filled features as Empek held her on her knees.

            "That wasn't very nice of her, was it, Empek?" Durant said coldly.

            "It was not.  Apologize to Admiral Durant," Empek intoned.

            Janeway heaved in breath for a few moments, fighting the pain, battling her own humiliation.  Empek wrenched on her arm again, and a pained gasp escaped her lips.

            "Apologize."

            One good jerk was all he needed to tear the bone right out of its socket.  And he was strong enough to do it.

            Kathryn raised her head to meet Durant's eye.  "John..." her voice came out ragged and strained.

            He smiled at her, a little patronizing.  "Yes, Kathryn?"

            Her voice dripped with contempt.  "Eat shit and die."

            The words were barely out of her mouth when she felt Empek twist her arm all the way, and the pain exploded over her.  When she looked back on it, she could swear she had heard the bone breaking and the ligaments tearing.  But at the time, the pain was so great it sent her to the floor, clamping her mouth over a scream, hearing it come out as a pained moan.  She could barely even hear Empek ask Durant,  "Would you like me to break the other arm?"

            Durant watched Kathryn, in agony on the floor, for a long moment, debating.  Then,  "No, that's enough, Empek.  The Vulcan attaché has a reception tomorrow... I need her to be somewhat collected by then.  You know flaky she gets after a little talking to."

            A talking to.  She'd grown to hate those words.

            Her body was trembling with pain as Empek pulled her to her feet, and she hated that there were tears streaming down her face.  He hauled her rather unceremoniously down the hall, and she threw every insult she could at Durant's lackey.  He ignored her as though her words simply bounced off of him.

            Kathryn didn't know if he was human, as he appeared to be, or an alien, as she suspected he was.  She did know, however, that he was a monster.  She told him so in elaborately colorful language each time he helped Durant 'talk to her.'  He was impervious to her taunts.  He deposited her in the infirmary of Durant's personal physician and left without slinging an insult in return.  But he didn't need to insult, did he? Kathryn reflected.  He was the one who'd just broken an arm.

            "Lie back, Admiral Janeway," came the cold voice of Doctor Tondra.  Kathryn felt a hand on her shoulder urging her onto her back, and she let herself be pushed down.  The tall, slim African woman deftly cut away the arm of Janeway's uniform jacket.  Then she raised her tricorder and studied the readings with cold, dark eyes.  When she wrapped her hands around Kathryn's upper arm, Janeway almost pulled away, doubtful.

            "I have to set the bone," Tondra told her impatiently.  Janeway gritted her teeth, and felt a short stab of pain when Tondra jerked her arm back into place.  She couldn't choke back a cry of pain.  Doctor Tondra looked up when she heard it, and Kathryn saw thinly veiled contempt in the dark woman's eyes.

            "You'd make it far easier on yourself if you simply cooperated with him," Tondra said.

            Janeway watched the other woman as she began to knit her bone.  Kathryn asked,  "Is that what you'd do?"

            "I certainly wouldn't show your insubordination," Tondra's eyes flickered up to Janeway's.  "He has noble goals."

            "He wants to be President of the Federation," Janeway spat.  "Lust for power is hardly noble."

            "You don't know him."

            Doctor Tondra turned away, and Janeway watched her.  Early on, Kathryn had thought the Doctor might be a sympathetic friend in this situation.  As the other female in the loop, and a silent witness to Durant and Empek's brutality, Kathryn thought she'd be able to forge some common ground.  But from the beginning, Tondra made it clear where her loyalties lay.  She'd since realized that the good Doctor was as much a collaborator in some of Durant's more dubious activities as Empek was.

            "Do you have a pain killer?" Janeway asked, all too aware of the continued ache in her newly healed bones.

            Tondra turned cold eyes on her.  "I was instructed not to give you one.  A sedative, if you like?"

            Janeway shook her head.

            "In that case, I have work to take care of.  You're healed."

            Doctor Tondra turned away with those words, and Kathryn was suddenly glad she had not conceded to Durant and disowned the EMH as her physician.  Very glad.

            Lying in her bed now, suffering from her hangover, Kathryn thought it best not to go to that woman.  A hangover was more pleasant than dealing with the other woman's contempt.

            She became aware of Durant's eyes on her, and realized that he'd cut off his transmission with Empek.  Kathryn shut her eyes and tried to still her breathing, attempted not to move.  Maybe he'd think she was still asleep.

            She heard his footsteps on the carpet as he approached the bedside.  Her body tensed as he lowered himself onto the side, the bed springs creaking under his added weight.  She could feel him lean over, closer and closer.  She sensed that his face was just inches from her, and her control left her.  Her eyes snapped open and she tried to pull back, but he caught her chin in his hand.

            Her breath left her, and she lay there anxiously, waiting for his move.  His eyes were dark and unfathomable, and Kathryn couldn't tell whether he was planning to choke her or kiss her.  But then his grip on her eased up, and a smile came across his sharp, classically handsome features.

            "Must be quite a headache you've got there," he said jovially, the warmth of his smile echoing in his voice.  He reached over to the night stand, produced a cup of coffee.  "I thought you might like this."

            Kathryn watched him warily as she pushed herself up in the bed and took the cup from his hands.  His expression was cheerful, but she knew how deceptive looks were on him.  Whatever he was planning, he never gave an outward indication.

            Her eyes slipped close as she took a deep sip of the coffee, feeling endorphins automatically kick in.  Her rolling stomach was almost instantly calm, and the headache eased up in severity.

            Kathryn was aware of his hand running lightly up and down her arm.  "I forget sometimes just how hard I'm pushing you," he said in a warm voice.  "You care about those people deeply.  It was foolish of me to think you'd just snap back from last week."

            She opened her eyes looked at him, and the expression in his hazel eyes seemed to plead for friendship.

            "I know the past two years have been rough on you," he gave her a smile.  "Kathryn, you have to understand," he continued in a friendly tone,  "Things between us could be different.  So very different.  I think we're both out for the good of the Federation.  We could help each other."

            "If you--" she stopped then, surprised by how hoarse and gravelly her voice sounded.

            He took advantage of her pause to continue,  "We don't have to be enemies."  He raised his hand up to caress her cheek, and she stiffened.  Unperturbed, he continued,  "We could help each other.  Just let me do all the work, honey.  You don't have to have the weight of the world on your shoulders."

            "Let you do all the work?" Janeway cut in, eyes flashing.  She pulled away from his caress.  "Drop the pretense.  You're asking me to let you have all the control."

            "Not that.  Not that!" he said appealingly.  "There's plenty you can do.  I want you to have responsibility.  I made you an Admiral, didn't I?"

            "You made me a glorified secretary," Janeway shot back.  "And we both know that promotion was just for show."

            Ignoring her, he continued,  "Kathryn, when I'm president, you'll be the most influential woman in the Federation.  I can do that for you.  All I've ever wanted you to do for me in return is attend receptions, put in face time.  I know you can do that."  He looked at her appealingly.  "Kathryn, I will do all the grudge work.  All I ask is that you cooperate."

            "All the grudge work?"

            "Of course."

            "So," she said coldly,  "Are you going to carry the baby to term in your body?"

            He laughed at her.  "Kathryn, your sense of humor."

            "It's hardly a medical impossibility.  I certainly don't want to be stuck with the job," she snapped back.

            He reached out a hand to caress her abdomen.  "I'm sure you'll feel differently once you're underway."

            "Doubtful."

            "Mothers always grow to love their children."

            "Their children don't usually have your genetic material in them."

            He sighed, showing the first signs of impatience.  His hand rested heavily on her abdomen.  "What is it I can do for you, Kathryn?  What the hell do you want?"

            She cocked her head to the side.  "A divorce."

            He gazed at her a second, then scoffed.  "I should have realized you'd be an unreasonable bitch."

            She slapped his hand away from her, and tried to roll off the other side of the bed.  He clamped his hand around her arm and yanked her back down, painfully, pressing her back into the headboard.  The good humor was gone.  He suddenly looked  menacing

            "Now listen," he hissed.  "I've tried to be diplomatic with you, I've tried to reason with you.  It comes to this.  No more stunts.  You pull something like last night again and I swear I'll have half your crew exterminated before the sun rises again.  Do you understand that?"

            Her eyes glittered with anger, and he shook her hard.  "Do you!?"

            "Yes," she said through clenched teeth.

            He drew back a little, his eyes raking her face.  "Good."  He pulled back completely, and rose to his feet.  "Good.  Just needed language you can understand."

            She looked away from him, simmering.  Her headache pulsed within her skull.

            "I called you in sick to Starfleet Command," he informed her.  "Just sleep it off."

            She was still glaring at the wall when he turned and walked out the door.