Chakotay took a last glance at the plaque. Properly cleaned and in its place by the briefing room doors, it was as good as new. If only the rest of the aftermath could be fixed so easily.
Sighing deeply, he left the bridge.
As he entered his office, his gaze automatically dropped to his desk. Even neatly stacked, the padds were overwhelming. He absently thumbed through them as he sat at his desk. Maintenance reports, energy requisitions, duty rosters, inventories, cabin assignments, and all the other minutiae of starship management waited for his attention. Well, they would wait one more day.
Chakotay leaned back in his chair, letting his eyes focus on nothing.
In battle or the intrigues preceding it, every little detail could become a disaster. A skilled tactician and leader considered every contingency. But in day-to-day life, he took peace where he could find it. In doing so, it was easy to get lulled into a false sense of security.
This time, the false sense of security had a name -- Kathryn Janeway.
Kathryn was a wreck. Over the years, stress had taken its toll, wearing away at her strengths until she was a mere shadow of herself. Yet somehow, she had still managed to convince herself and her staff that she was fit to serve.
Chakotay had never been good at seeing past deception when it came to his personal life. He was an honest man, from an honest people. And he accepted that, as Tom once said, 'it takes one to know one.'
Tuvok, Seska, and Kathryn were all talented liars -- the bullshit about Vulcan honesty notwithstanding -- and when those talents were turned upon him, he had no defense. But he felt damned foolish nonetheless.
Kathryn claimed to be such a close friend. How could he have missed it?
Kathryn was more unpredictable than a two-headed Malgorian who had gotten into the spring wine. Every decision was led by her wildly swinging moods. Some days, she was all business, following Starfleet protocol to the letter. Other days, compassion was her only concern, and she upheld the prime directive only if it was convenient.
He knew her moods were compromising her ability to do her job. But by the time ship's business was calm and he had time to call her on it, she was acting so normal he actually doubted what he'd seen. After all, if something were truly wrong, Tuvok would have done something about it. Right?
It was important that she remain captain. Not for his sake; he never doubted his ability to lead the ship. But Voyager was the one thing that truly mattered to Kathryn. As her friend, he had to support that.
So, he stopped looking for what was wrong, and started noting what was right. And usually, everything seemed fine.
Some days she acted with the blend of sensibility and caring that he expected from Kathryn Janeway. Like when she subtly quizzed him to see if he was a disguised member of species 8472. Or when her strategy paralleled her hospitality in dealing with the telepath-fearing Devoran, Kashyk. And there was no forgetting Kathryn decked out as the Spider Queen. (She'd have his head if she knew he'd kept a vid of that.)
Kathryn could pull it together when it counted. Or, at least, that's what he needed to believe.
On those occasions when her actions were bizarre, it was easy to claim she was just having an off day. His time as a Maquis had trained him to wait out the rough spots, and he did his best to cut her some slack.
In the end, he had just given her enough rope to hang herself with it.
He never pushed her to get treated for the stress. He never discussed it with the doctor or Tuvok. He just watched it build.
And when it reached the red line, Kathryn nearly murdered Equinox crewman Noah Lessing.
Chakotay moved to the center of his office as he thought over the previous day. Giving into his restlessness, he clasped his hands behind him and slowly paced.
It all began with the ambush. Chakotay and Tom lurked among the brush as Equinox crewmen Lessing and Sofin searched for deuterium ore. Voyager beamed all four up long before the Equinox knew that anything was amiss.
The smooth execution of the attack reminded him of his time with the Maquis. Timing and precision had always been a must when pitting outdated freighters against the latest Cardassian warships and Federation starships. Unfortunately, the similarities to the Maquis way of life had only begun, as Kathryn then decided to interrogate Lessing.
Chakotay had expected her to let him run the interrogation. As a Maquis captain, he had broken the wills of more people than he could remember, often meeting apparently impossible deadlines for information. Compared to the ability of a starship captain who had studied the Starfleet-sanctioned interrogation techniques in the academy, he was obviously more qualified. But that didn't matter. Kathryn felt like running the show, so he was assigned the role of silent intimidation.
She sat Lessing in cargo bay one and demanded the Equinox' tactical status. Of course, Lessing refused. Kathryn hadn't given him any reason to comply. Starfleet regulations bound her from using telepathy, drugs, and torture, and he knew that.
All that remained was coercion and persuasion. With her level of skill, Kathryn probably didn't have the time for that, and she clearly didn't have the patience. Instead, she resolved to drop the shielding around the cargo bay, allowing the life forms the opportunity to attack and kill him.
Chakotay had studied Lessing's eyes, reading the nuances of emotion as easily as he would scan a padd. He knew at once that the strategy had failed. Lessing was in sheer terror. But he had faced death too many times, and he was too loyal to the captain and crew who had saved him from it. He would sooner die than talk.
Considering that, Kathryn's promise to leave him to the lifeforms was simply murder.
Kathryn didn't back down. Chakotay didn't really expect her to; she didn't know how. In that moment, it ceased to be an interrogation and became a deadly power struggle. One that they were all doomed to lose.
In a nightmarish flashback to his Maquis captaincy, he recalled numerous occasions when interrogation had become an excuse to torture or kill a prisoner. Every time it had happened, he was sickened to the core, just as he was each time he took a life. No life, sentient or otherwise, was disposable to him.
But one maxim taught at Starfleet always rang true: Commanding in battle requires choosing the least abhorrent of the unacceptable options.
So if Chakotay stood impassively as Kathryn threatened Lessing, it was because he was no longer a Starfleet officer seeing a man in a chair in a cargo bay. He was a freedom fighter, and he was watching a valued comrade vent her rage and despair through vengeance, because her sanity would be the price of mercy.
When Kathryn led Chakotay to the corridor outside the cargo bay, the spell was broken. This was a Starfleet ship, and he was facing a woman who would never be served by letting her insanity run its course. Ethics meant too much to her. At least, they did when she was thinking straight.
Chakotay had argued bitterly with Kathryn, trying to get her to bring the shielding back up. But it was a waste of breath.
She kept insisting that Lessing would crack, that he'd call over the comm system and reveal the tactical status to save his life. And she truly believed that. After all, who would dare act contrary to the iron-fisted will of Kathryn Janeway?
In the end, Chakotay stood in the hall, shouting at her as she balked. It was all going so wrong. He couldn't let her do this to herself. He finally stalked into the cargo bay, fired his phaser at the fissures that had opened to admit the lifeforms, and pulled Lessing out of the room.
Without a word, she left him to deal with the mortified, urine-soaked crewman.
But Kathryn didn't confine Chakotay to quarters when he defied her will. No, that came later, in the briefing room.
She had been furious. He swore that he wouldn't allow her betray her ethics. So she removed him from duty.
He had sat in his quarters, struggling to let go of his humiliation. The dismissal stung, even if it had been borne of insanity. He watched the ship's sensor information from his personal console, trying to avoid thinking about her.
A starship couldn't survive with her captain and first officer at odds with each other. And with such a volatile captain, it was up to him to keep the peace.
But now, as he walked the length of his office, he freely admitted that he had reached the limits of his considerable patience.
Since he had been released from quarters, she had attempted to avoid being alone in a room with him. Things were terribly tense, often marked by silence.
When she finally did talk to him, she didn't apologize for removing him from duty. An apology from Kathryn Janeway? Perish the thought. Instead, she proved that she was thinking solely of herself as she mentioned the threat of mutiny.
Every step of the way, even when mutiny was justified, he had been watching out for her. Insane or not, she should have known that.
He would never override one of her decisions without a damn good reason. But it seemed she had no trust in him to do what was right.
Maybe she never had.
He sensed that he was a step away from understanding what he hadn't before. And yet, even as he felt things come together, a pool of dread formed in the pit of his stomach. Whatever the truth was, he wasn't going to like it.
He sat down heavily on the couch. The pacing had become a distraction. He needed to focus past the roiling of his emotions.
Trying to pick up his train of thought again, he considered his last reflection: Maybe she never had trusted him.
She didn't trust him when she found evidence of a spy aboard Voyager. Instead, she had contrived an operation designed in part to keep him unaware. Once he learned of that plan, he had worked hard to get past it. He hadn't even thought of it in years. But he couldn't ignore the common thread between it and the Lessing incident.
Kathryn trusted him to follow loyally, but she didn't trust his judgment.
His heart began to beat faster and harder as his anger rose.
Damn it, he deserved better from her.
He was a captain and a leader in his own right. He held together a band of misfits and malcontents, many of whom had little training and less regard for authority. He led people who never could have passed Starfleet Academy's entrance exams, much less graduate. And while coordinating the movements of his entire Maquis cell, his crew had accomplished far more than the odds would allow.
Yet when circumstances demanded it, he surrendered his authority to serve beneath an uppity captain on her brand new Intrepid-class starship, who wore a fourth pip that was newer than her manicure.
Chakotay shook his head, amazed at how completely he had bowed under her will. He didn't just follow her orders; he indulged her moods and catered to her whims. He gave more than his share, even when she refused to meet him halfway. And as her friend, he had always been glad to do it.
If her appreciation was rarely voiced, it didn't matter. He gave because he wanted to give. She had never needed to earn his best efforts. When he offered friendship, he simply gave what he could. Love -- platonic or otherwise -- was never about remembering who was indebted to whom.
Now that he thought to look for it, it was obvious how much she kept him at a distance. Even the most personal of conversations with her had their own set of rules. It was always a dance of diplomacy with her. He had to watch for the subtle signals that told him what couldn't be discussed, lest she shut him out for coming too close.
Just as much as fairness didn't matter, trust did. Trust was the foundation of friendship. As long as Kathryn didn't truly trust him, they were just acquaintances.
And he, who had given so much and expected so little, was being used.
His line of sight wandered to his desk, and his eyes narrowed. He'd had enough of simmering in his office. He was going home, even if the end of his shift was hours away.
After all, Kathryn would never dare say anything about it.
He stalked through the corridors, fully aware that his expression was set in a fierce grimace. Each time he passed some of the crew, he managed a curt nod.
Tuvok, of course, just raised that damned eyebrow, and three from Voyager's original crew looked on in concern and confusion. But both the Maquis stepped aside, watching him warily.
Chakotay ignored the stares and continued to his quarters.
---
For those who aren't fans of Janeway-bashing, don't worry. I like Kathryn a lot more than Chakotay does at the moment.
Disclaimer: Yes, I know Paramount owns Star Trek and its characters. I'm jealous, so I'm playing with their old toys. Everything will be back in the sandbox by morning.
All hail JJ, the almighty beta!
Please feed the author! Critical, nitpicky feedback is always adored!