CHAPTER TWELVE

            "Might as well have summoned the whole crew," Janeway muttered, her arms crossed stiffly over her chest as she watched Seven and the Doctor approach from the distance.

            Chakotay said nothing in reply, clearly puzzled at Kathryn's strange resistance to requesting Seven of Nine and the Doctor's help.

            Admiral Janeway's 'kidnapping' had stretched out nearly six days now, and Tom Paris's beleagured vessel had just taken refuge in the nook of an abandoned Federation base.  The four comrades had been waiting for the other two former members of Voyager's crew to arrive, passing the time by attempting to formulate some sort of plan.  Each idea led to a dead end.  Every off-handed suggestion was batted down as quickly as it was proposed.  Frustration was slowly mounting.

            They knew John Durant had two main strengths: the general public revered him, and the Orion Syndicate supported him.  They could do nothing directly against Durant-- nothing to attack his public image, nothing to attack the man himself-- without bringing the ire of the Syndicate upon them.  They had to be subtle; their hand would have to be invisible in whatever the outcome of this deadly game.  Their most important move would be severing Durant's ties with the Syndicate.  Without the Syndicate, Durant was simply another man.  The question was, how would they go about breaking those bonds? 

            If they attacked Durant's public image, made Durant too costly and dire a connection for the Syndicate to maintain, the crime organization could still turn around and destroy Janeway and the crew in retaliation for spoiling their investment.  The only acceptable course of action was to poison Durant in the eyes of the Syndicate, destroy his credibility and undermine his friendship, without showing any sign they'd been the ones to do it.

            "Turncoats," Paris suggested during one discussion.  "If I learned one thing in prison, it was that all criminals hate turncoats.  Snitches."

            "Durant's not a turncoat," Chakotay pointed out.

            "But we can make it look like he is," Paris replied, his blue eyes intent as he gestured with a careless hand wave.  "We can plant something, or inform a friend of a friend of a friend that Durant's got something going down that the boys at the Syndicate won't like."

            At the looks of confusion that met his words, Paris's jaw hardened with suddenly frustration.  "*Listen*-- the guy has to have something in his past, something about him his partners won't like, some dirt--"

            "His computer," Janeway interjected suddenly, her eyes locking with Paris's as she latched upon the helmsman's line of thought.  "He keeps files on his computer, detailed files.  I don't think Empek knows about them-- I know he tracks me on them, but I'm sure he also has information about Empek, and probably whatever Syndicate agents he's met over the years.  They wouldn't be happy if they knew he's been keeping those records."

            Paris smiled slightly.  "And they might draw the wrong conclusions from it."

            Chakotay's brow furrowed into a series of faint lines.  "So... we could use these to convince Empek that Durant is... what?"

            "A good Starfleet Officer," Janeway replied with a faint grin, though her eyes were flinty as steel.  "We could use those files to convince Empek that Durant is a double agent.  He'll believe that Durant sought out the help of the Syndicate merely so he could spy on them for Starfleet.  If Empek happened to stumble upon Durant's spying files in the wrong place... say, in the central computer at Starfleet Command..."

            Torres puzzled it out.  "You're saying that if someone from the Syndicate finds information only Durant could have in the wrong person's hands, they'll think Durant's working against them?" The half-Klingon scowled.  "They'd see right through that.  I know I would."

            "If we could just retrieve the contents of that database," Janeway said, ignoring the younger woman's skepticism,  "And if we could implant it with someone involved in intelligence--"

            "My father," Paris offered.  "I could tell him what's going on, he can pretend he's working with Durant on this."

            "And the Syndicate surely has connections with top Starfleet brass," Janeway continued.  "If you can talk to your father, Tom, explain the situation...  We can take Durant's data on Empek, stick it in Admiral Paris's database, and hope to hell that someone dirty stumbles upon it.  The only conclusion they can make is that Durant provided this information for Paris, that Durant is working with Paris in some plot to take down the Orion Syndicate from the inside.  They'll think Durant was manipulating them."

            "So they kill Durant," Torres finished for her.  "That's great.  But won't they kill your father, Tom?"

            Tom Paris shook his head at her worries.  "The Orion Syndicate isn't just a loose group of criminals.  They're an organization.  They've got codes-- hold to your deal, keep your word, kill your witnesses.  They don't kill a guy just doing his job unless he's the one actively deceiving them.  My father wouldn't be in harm's way-- they would see him as a guy just doing his duty as an officer.  But Durant would be the one who went out and fucked with them, Durant was the one who played them for fools, and they sure as hell wouldn't hesitate to kill him."  Tom took a breath, and his pale blue eyes shifted over to Janeway.  "And they'd kill you, too."

            "I'm a witness," Janeway agreed softly, understanding.  "I know as much about the Syndicate activities as Durant does.  They'd perceive me as Durant's accomplice."

            "Probably."

            Janeway's lips twisted into a frown, and she stared down with a hard gaze at the floor of the shuttle, her elbows resting upon her knees, brooding over the grim possibilties for the future.  Even if she escaped Durant, the Syndicate would pursue her until the day she died...

            "We have to do better than that," Chakotay stated flatly.

            Janeway glanced up at him and held his soulful eyes briefly, warmed by his concern.  "I wish it could be another way," she said.  "But if death is the risk I'll have to take to end this nonsense, it's acceptable."

            It was acceptable.  The crew would be safe.  And Chakotay.

            No, not Chakotay.

            "What the hell are we going to do about you, Chakotay?" Janeway suddenly asked, glancing up at the surprised faces of the other three, including the man in question's.  The four officers had been so caught up in the main dilemma, they hadn't even considered the future of the man who was now known across the quadrant as a kidnapper and possible murderer.

            "I suppose I'll be a fugitive."  Chakotay shrugged his large shoulders, offering Kathryn a half-hearted smile that made her suddenly feel terribly guilty.  "I can live with that.  It won't be the first time."

            She wished she hadn't dragged him into this.

            "I'm so sorry--" Kathryn began quietly.

            "It's fine," Chakotay replied, putting his hand gently over hers to relieve her of the stricken look on her face.  "Don't blame yourself for this."

            Kathryn knew it would be no good protesting.  He knew her too well.  She despised herself for putting him in this situation.

            So the crew would be safe, Durant would be dead, and she'd have to run.  She'd have to look over her shoulder every day for the rest of her life in hopes the Syndicate wouldn't find her.  She could live with that.  But she hated that Chakotay would have that same fear, that he'd have to watch out for the authorities anywhere he went .

            Maybe she could go public.  Perhaps she could say something to clear his name, either before the Syndicate assassinated her, or before she dissapeared into the woodwork.  She owed him that much.

            But then again, worst case scenario, they could become fugitives together.  As selfish as it was, that was not an entirely unappealing prospect to her.  At least she'd be with Chakotay...

            Janeway glanced over at him, thinking back to that moment just two days earlier when she'd spoken to him of her debt to him, when she'd expressed her gratitude.  Caught in the moment, she'd almost leaned over and kissed him.  For a moment, just for a moment, she could have sworn she saw something in his eyes...  And then he recoiled from her, as though repulsed.  Or maybe she misinterperted the moment.  Or maybe he despised her.  He had reason to.

            It all confused her.

            She knew she still loved him.  She had no clue how he felt about her.  Could he possibly stand to embark on that path again, the one that had led him to so much pain and heartbreak in the past?  Would he ever give her a chance again?  If their positions were reversed, Kathryn didn't know if she could bear it.

            Maybe she should back off.  Or maybe she should be more direct.

            Her train of though was broken off quite unpleasantly when she heard Chakotay suggest they contact Seven and the Doctor.

            *Seven?*  What could he want from her?

            "Seven could probably hack into Durant's computer without being traced and retrieve the data.  She might be the only one who can do it," Chakotay was saying.

            "B'Elanna, *you* couldn't navigate your way through the system?" Janeway tried to ignore the note of pleading in her voice.  She tried to reason that she didn't want to involve more crewmembers than were necessary in this, that she had no irrational fear Chakotay would take one look at Seven and suddenly rediscover his old affection for her and all Janeway's progress with him would be lost.

            "Give me a comptuer to repair and I can do it," Torres replied tartly.  "A computer to hack?  It's just not my area.  With all those Borg encryption techniques, Seven could break in there faster than anyone in the quadrant."

            So Seven of Nine it was.

            And now two days later the ex-drone took the final few steps to halt before them all-- tall, regal, controlled, her presence drawing eyes from the significantly less magnetic holographic doctor by her side.

            "You've been briefed on the situation?" Janeway asked crisply, holding the other woman's pale blue eyes without a flicker of emotion on her face.

            The younger woman hesitated a moment, perhaps surprised that Janeway had jumped to the chase rather than greeting her.  An unreadable emotion flickered across her features.  "Yes, Admiral, I have," she replied in a voice softer than Janeway remembered.

            Her fine blonde hair was draped about her shoulders, the civilian garb hanging with some slack about her lanky form.  Janeway felt a mixture of emotions at seeing her old protege-- love, apprehension, anger.  Truly, she and Seven had always had a love-hate relationship, hate taking predominance towards the end when they returned to Earth and wanted nothing more to do with one another.  Seven, more than anything, embodied the best and the worst Janeway had taken from her time in the Delta Quadrant.  Seven had grown under Janeway's care from a drone to a human woman with emotions and needs.  She had drained and hardened Janeway like no one before her.  She inspired the best and the worst emotions in Kathryn.

            Janeway felt herself soften suddenly, as she watched the uncertainty play across the former Borg's features, and her initial surge of enmity died away as her familiar affection for her wayward protege reasserted itself.  She held Seven's eyes a long moment, sensing rather than seeing the younger woman respond to her warmth.  She fought the warning of tears.

            "It's good to see you again, Seven."  Her voice sounded strange and hollow.

            Janeway was surprised when Seven was the first to step forward, and she met the younger woman's embrace with a distinct feeling of discomfort.  What did Seven see when she looked at her?  How had this woman changed?  There was a time that Janeway knew Seven better than she believed Seven knew herself.  But this human woman was a stranger to her, this human who had commenced her secret liason with Chakotay, outside of Janeway's knowledge.

            That secrecy had not been the fondest introduction to this aspect of Seven's personality, but first impressions were often mistaken.

            Or so she hoped.

*          *          *

Chakotay found himself alone again with Janeway in the aft compartment of the shuttle as Tom Paris's ship zipped back towards Earth. She was hunched over a plate, picking half-heartedly at her food. He marveled again at how drastically altered she looked; he'd nearly forgotten about her extreme thinness before the Doctor revived the concern with a whispered inquiry about Janeway's health. The hologram wanted to examine her right then and there. Chakotay talked him out of it, knowing it would not go down well with Kathryn. The last thing they needed, at this moment, with the future so perilously balanced upon her performance in coming days, was an argument to further chisel at the woman's precarious control.

Besides that, Chakotay knew it was not her physical health that required the most urgent attention. His concern centered around her mental state. The most immediately apparent impact of Durant's mind games was her weight loss. She was not emaciated because Durant had actively starved her, although she confessed to his repeated harping over her appearance. She was gaunt because some whisper in her mind had compelled her to do this to herself-- to starve, to wreck her own health. And while it was true that Durant had encouraged this-- he had clearly been attempting to use this issue as another avenue to psychologically undermine her-- the fact that this attempt had so clearly taken root within her worried him. This was the only line of attack that Chakotay could see physically manifested; God only knew what else that bastard had done, the damage hidden from Chakotay's eyes.

            "Seven looked well," Janeway spoke up abruptly, not looking at him.

            "She did," he agreed without emotion, wondering if he should inform her Seven went by Annika now, tell her about Annika's engagement.

            Maybe too much news for Kathryn right now.

            Janeway's piercing blue eyes raked over him. He was uncertain what she was probing for. She threw him off balance a good deal, especially in the quiet moments. When she was angry, he could deal with her. But deadly calm... That unsettled him. He knew the others felt the same way-- B'Elanna, Tom, Seven, the Doctor. Maybe that was why he kept finding himself alone with Kathryn. The others didn't know what was going on in her head any more than he did.

            Tuvok. He cursed himself. He should have contacted Tuvok. Her old Vulcan friend would know, maybe better than Chakotay, what she was thinking. Tuvok could deal with her.

            Too late now.

            "Have you two spoken alone, yet?" Her voice sounded strange.

            He looked at her curiously. "No, we haven't had the chance."

            "Oh."

            There was a long moment of silence as she gazed down at her tray.

            Then, "Chakotay."

            "Kathryn?"

            "I never got a chance to--" Kathryn looked uncomfortable suddenly, and then smiled wryly as though trying to ease her own tension. "Well, now might not be the right time... But if we die in a few days, it will probably never be the right time anyway..." She stopped then, and her eyes latched onto his unblinkingly. "I never got a chance to apologize... Not coherently, at least," Again she looked embarrassed. "Our discussion a few days ago... Just-- at the reunion. I'm sorry I didn't take your feelings into consideration before I-- before what happened at the reunion. I should have considered it from your perspective, thought of the consequences to you. I was selfish."

            "You don't have to apologize. It's long done now," Chakotay replied gently. He shrugged and lowered himself into the seat next to her. "It hurt, for a long time it hurt... But maybe that old phrase, 'It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all...'" He let the words hang in the air, and when he turned his head towards her, the intensity of her expression startled him.

            Her voice was quiet.

            "Chakotay," Chakotay fought his surprise as she reached out and gently caressed his hand with her fingers. "You never lost."

            Chakotay felt his heart still, the blood rushing to his head in a sudden, dizzying moment.

            It was then he knew.

            For maybe the first time in ages, with this absolute certainty, free of doubt, he knew. She loved him. Kathryn loved him the same way he loved her. He held her gaze, her blue eyes warm with her feelings, the nagging insecurity of the last few months dying at last.

            He stared at her, her eyes soft, her hair picking up red in the shuttle light, and knew he could press his lips to hers and she would kiss him back. He could press her to the floor and make love to her in this shuttle and she'd urge him into her. Everything he'd thought she was holding back was there before him, his.

            The possibilities were beautiful.

            But he hesitated, and for a long moment he wondered what held him back.

            It wasn't a lack of feeling. He wanted her-- Gods how he wanted her.

            Maybe if he felt anything less... But he didn't just want Kathryn-- he wanted to love her, for now, forever.

            Here she was, after two years of nothing short of psychological torture, throwing what little remained of Kathryn Janeway into his mercy. If he accepted what was left, joined it with him now, he'd ruin her. Whatever capacity she'd retained for holding true to her own soul would be lost. There was a terrible imbalance between them-- Kathryn was a fragment of herself, and he was following his own heart. She was still lost, still confused. Even if she knew her own emotions she still had so many wounds to recover from, so much shredded left to heal. If he acted upon this now, she would never have a chance to grow back into her own person. She would only heal those fracture through him... She wouldn't regain herself on her own.

            He had nearly made that mistake with Seven of Nine, allowed an emotionally vulnerable creature to use him as the salve for the wounds she felt she could not heal herself. He let her grow into a full human around him, and when he stepped aside, he nearly destroyed that woman. He couldn't risk that with Kathryn. He couldn't do that to her. He wouldn't.

            Chakotay smiled, fighting to maintain a show of tender indifference as much as it hurt him, and slowly rose to his feet. He wanted this to be as easy on her as possible.

            "I–Kathryn, I just don't feel this is the right time."

            The warmth instantly fled Janeway's face, her eyes, and he winced at the hurt he saw flood her expression. But this was for her. She would understand someday, once she was whole again, why he had to do this. She had to understand.

            "I think I'd better check in with the others." His voice was soft. A beat passed. "I'm glad we talked."

            He saw her swallow with a visible effort, and he looked away to give her some privacy to compose herself. When he turned back again, the steely Captain's Mask was firmly in place. Kathryn nodded blandly, her features pale but steady.

            "Yes, me too." Janeway's voice was strong, although strangely hollow. "I'll just finish up in here."

            The air was still tense, and he fumbled for the words, "Do you want me to get you anything else from the replicator before I go up front?"

            She shook her head. Quietly, "No. This is enough. Thank you."

            He pressed his lips together, but managed a smile. "Well, I hope you join us soon. I know everyone's eager to catch up."

            "Of course. I'll be just a minute."

            He was certain this was a lie.

* * *

            He didn't make it to the cockpit before he ran into Seven, poised mid-step right outside the cockpit door.

            Chakotay stopped short, feeling awkward as he found himself alone with her for the first time since their break up. The rather nasty break up. There was a strange, nervous twitch to her smile, and her eyes looked pale and hesitant.

            "Sev--Annika," Chakotay amended his mistake quickly, with a friendly smile. "Did you want to go back...?" The question hung unsaid as he stepped aside in case she was seeking out Janeway, jabbing a large thumb towards the corridor stretching behind him.

            "No. I-- no," Seven shot an uneasy glance towards the bend in the corridor behind him. "I actually was hoping to speak with you for a minute."

            Chakotay felt himself tense, immediately on guard. "Oh? What is it?"

            Seven took a breath, and he recognized that she was attempting to steady herself.

            "I wanted to... apologize for my conduct when you terminated our relationship." The words seemed to be hard for her. "I was out of line, and I am distressed that I may have caused you undue pain.

            Chakotay blinked, surprised. "Annika, that was ages ago. I understand perfectly--"

            "No," she cut in. The tall blonde took a step closer, and her eyes were sincere. "I did not inform you of my whereabouts, but I should have. I'm 'sorry.'"

            Still a little baffled, Chakotay gave her an easy smile. "Annika, I truly do understand. I don't want you to feel ashamed of it."

            She nodded slowly, and he started to move past her when a metal enmeshed hand suddenly landed on his chest, stopping him mid-step.

            " And..." she looked a little fearful, "I was hoping that, despite my past conduct, you might consider attending my wedding to the Doctor."

            Chakotay grinned, holding her eyes with his own, feeling at ease for the first time in this conversation. "Annika, you know I wouldn't miss it."

            "I understand it is customary for the bride to dispatch documents of invitation," Annika continued quickly, "But I was afraid that--"

            "Annika," Chakotay said sincerely, "I only want you to be happy. I'm honored you've invited me."

            A moment passed as they gazed at each other, and he swore he could see tears in her eyes. "Thank you, Chakotay. You are a true friend," Seven of Nine said softly.

            Moved by her tears, he stepped forward to envelop her in a warm hug.

            Chakotay held his former lover, reflecting that at least someone would find a happy ending in all this mess. Seven and the Doctor. Who would have seen it? He pressed a kiss softly on top of her head, thinking that maybe, just maybe, if Seven could overcome the trauma of the Borg, he might have a chance one day of looking a happy, complete Kathryn Janeway in the eye again. Once they got out of this mess. And they would.

            They always did, didn't they?

            "There is also a matter I wish to discuss with you, pertaining to Admiral Janeway," her voice was muffled against her chest. "The wedding--"

            Chakotay smiled. He knew she was going to ask if it was appropriate to approach Janeway with an invite. He'd noticed things were still prickly between the two.

            "Don't worry." He stroked her back unconsciously. "I'll settle the matter with Kathryn."

            Chakotay didn't notice Janeway quietly withdraw back into the aft compartment.

* * *

            As the door slid shut behind her, Janeway stood perfectly still for a moment before a bitter, mirthless smile tugged at her hard lips. Of course. She should have known.

            What had she expected? That he'd wait forever? That he'd simply reel from pain and never turn his eyes to another woman?

            He'd found Seven again. They'd rediscovered their affection. Had it been just now, or much earlier? This whole time he'd been protecting her, had he warmed himself with the thought of Seven of Nine's open arms waiting for him later? How embarrassed he must have been when she made that pass at him a few minutes ago. How uneasy he had looked. Now she knew why. He'd been too kind to tell her, but at least now she knew why.

            Oh, God, she wished she hadn't seen that.

            She'd walked in just in time to see it. I'll settle the matter with Kathryn. She felt like an idiot. He'd told Seven about what happened. That almost killed her as much as the sight of the two in an embrace had. They had to be laughing about her.

            No, she thought, her eyes beginning to sting with tears, They're too good for that. It was much worse. They were pitying her.

            She closed her eyes harshly, gripping her hands into fists, trying to fight her impulses of jealousy and despair.

            He would at least be happy with Seven. She had never made him happy, probably could never make him happy. She'd only given him pain.

            But Goddamn it, she didn't want him happy! Not without her. The cold, petty reality of her own feelings flooded her with shame and self-loathing.

            She knew she was being horrible. Some lucid part of her brain wondered if Admiral Janeway, the original one, had battled with these very same thoughts before making her fateful trip back through time. She had sacrificed her life for these two. Kathryn didn't want to do the same, to embrace the same fate as that lonely, old Admiral.

            But in this situation, maybe she would have to.

            Even amidst her feelings of betrayal, she knew her jealousy would not win out; she would save Chakotay. She would send him into Seven's arms, at the sacrifice of her own life. Maybe they could have fled together, before, when he loved her. But she could never tear him from the woman he loved. As much as she wanted him with her, she could never bear to do that to him.

            She would take her exile alone.