And then the Captain speaks
It's clear and 44 degrees
But I know she means
If you feel like dancing
Dance with me

Four

He might well have been able to leave the idea of dancing with Janeway alone entirely from that point on. He did, in fact, for four more days. Chakotay even managed to stop Tom Paris from bringing it up by threatening the lieutenant with double shifts right over the week up to talent night if he a) dared to mention anything about it again and b) he failed to disabuse the rest of the crew of the notion that they were going to see the first officer on that stage.

But Kathryn's spirits continued at the same low ebb he had observed in her before their talk, and Chakotay couldn't shake the memory of her flash of disappointment when he'd squashed the idea of them dancing. Moreover, after each shift he found himself reviving more and more steps, dug out of deep memory. He began to wonder if there was a way it could work. He wasn't a born performer, but B'Elanna hadn't been exaggerating when she'd told Tom that Chakotay was a good dancer. It shouldn't have come as a complete surprise – in some ways, at least, it wasn't a million miles away from the application of grace and light body movement that typified a good boxer. Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee. There was a reason Ali's famous axiom had stuck for so many centuries. What Chakotay had forgotten, though, was how much he'd enjoyed it – another memory that resurfaced as he continued to move lightly around his living quarters each evening.

And after all, just because this style of dance could be passionate didn't mean it had to be. He could put together something simple, something appropriate.

Besides, perhaps it would be good for the crew to see them taking part in talent night together. Apart from the Bridge crew and senior staff, there weren't often times when the lower-deck personnel saw them in tandem, after all. Probably not a bad idea if the Maquis and Starfleet crews had a reminder of how well the command team worked together every now and then. It would certainly be good for the Captain to be part of the evening instead of simply being an observer, as she so often was at Voyager's social events. And it wasn't as if he needed to teach her to dance, per se. If Kathryn had grown up dancing, she'd have greater muscle memory than he did anyway. All he'd need to do is teach her some new steps, that's all. They probably wouldn't even need to rehearse that much.

The more he thought about it, the more Chakotay thought that he could do this. Moreover, that he should. Five minutes on a stage to lift her spirits. That was worth getting up there in front of the crew for. He put aside the instant tremor that had passed through him at Paris's suggestion and buried his other misgivings. They were friends, after all. Friends did dance together.

So, the following day, with just under a week to go, Chakotay found himself with something else to say after the usual business of their morning briefing.

"I've been thinking," he began. "About talent night."

Janeway looked at him over her coffee mug. "Oh?"

"Perhaps I was too hasty when I turned Paris down."

"You're reconsidering?"

He smiled. "That depends."

"On?"

"You, Captain. I still need a partner."

She put down her mug and glanced at her hands. "You don't think it would be inappropriate? Given your previous concerns?"

"I've come up with a sequence that isn't quite as intense as some can be. It'll be good for a beginner."

He was pleased to see Janeway raise a playful eyebrow. "And for someone who might be a little rusty?"

"Exactly."

She nodded. "Well. I suppose there's no harm in giving it a go, is there?"

Chakotay smiled. "No, Captain. I don't think there is, although I suggest keeping it between the two of us for now. I'd like to see the look on a certain lieutenant's face when – if – we walk on to the stage on Saturday night. And if we decide it's not for us after all, we won't be disappointing the crew."

"All right," said Janeway, with a smile wider than he'd seen for a good while. "Let's do it. I have to confess, Chakotay, it's been too long since I danced. Your mention of it before made me realise how much I miss it."

"I know," he said, with another smile. "I noticed."

She stood, her happiness eclipsed by the shadow of sudden concern. "Is that why you changed your mind? Chakotay – I don't want you to feel obligated-"

He got to his feet. "Kathryn," he said, softly, the use of her first name still a rarity he did not often indulge, particularly not during shift hours. "I don't feel obligated. We don't have much time, though. The holodecks are booked tonight, but we could start in my quarters?"

"I think there'll be more room in mine," she observed. "Say 6.30pm?"

He ignored the very slight quake of unease that shivered in his gut as he said, "All right."

"Make no mistake though, Chakotay," she added. "I am very competitive. We'll get it right. We'll surprise the crew. And we'll win."

"Is it a competition?" he asked, smiling.

"It will be if I have anything to do with it," she said, with her hands on her hips.

He left the ready room still smiling. Yes, he thought. This was a good idea.

This, he thought, some hours later, was a spectacularly bad idea.

Chakotay stood at the empty centre of her quarters. They had spent the previous five minutes pushing her furniture out of the way to make more space. Now he looked around, wondering if there were further delaying tactics he could employ to put off the inevitable. What had he been thinking?

Kathryn had her back to him as she put the last pile of PADDS from her table on the bookcase. She was still in her uniform – so was he – but in some ways that made it even more difficult. He thought back to those dusty, hot nights with Sandra, the woman who had taught him some of the steps he was about to pass on now. Every one of those sessions had turned into something else by the end. It wasn't that Chakotay would have any difficulty distinguishing between then and now – in actual fact, it was exactly the opposite. Then he'd had nothing to lose. Letting go to the music and to the extremely beautiful woman dancing with him had been easy, and if salsa was about anything it was about being in the moment.

Therein lay the significant problem that he had for some reason up until this point intentionally disregarded but, now that he was here in her quarters, could no longer ignore. The idea that he could let himself just 'be in the moment' with Janeway-

No.

Just-

No.

Kathryn turned to him, her smile a 1,000-watt flashlight even from the other end of the room. "Well," she said. "What comes first?"

Chakotay hid his anxiety under a smile of his own. "Music," he said. "Music first. I've created a playlist…"

Their first attempt did not go well. It wasn't that Kathryn found it difficult to learn the steps he began by showing her - the son, the guapea. As Chakotay had expected, she moved through them with a grace that made it look easy.

He was the problem.

For a start, he found it difficult to tell her that she should use her hips more. Not that she didn't to begin with – her natural movement made use of her curves anyway, since Janeway walked with a distinct roll of her pelvis that he had found himself trying not to notice on more than one occasion. But her ballet background was in some ways holding her back. Kathryn's grace made her too precise. This dance style was about accentuating natural movement – extending it beyond the norm. Do it more, with abandon, he wanted to say, but that felt too personal, too intimate. Too close to the invisible line of safety he'd hurriedly drawn for himself between them, which was also why the idea of showing her the enchufla or the dile que no filled him with distinct discomfort. In the end, Chakotay called up some archive footage for her to watch, hoping that she'd see it for herself.

She did. Within a few minutes of studying a couple dancing at a street party, Kathryn tried it for herself. She moved across the floor, undulating her hips as she turned in a quick and impressive series of steps.

"All right," she said, turning to face him with a determined nod. "I think I'm getting it."

He smiled. "You definitely are."

She held out her hands to him. "Time to see how we move together then, don't you think?"

The answer was, not particularly well. It was his fault, again. As soon as he touched her, Chakotay felt himself tensing. He knew the key to being able to move properly was to loosen up but he was finding that impossible.

They broke apart, Janeway putting her hands to her hips with a frown. "This doesn't feel right," she said. "We're too staccato. Is it me? Am I missing something?"

"It's not you," he said. "Kathryn, the problem is, I'm supposed to be leading. I'm supposed to be quite forceful, in fact – but I just can't do it. Not with you, anyway."

"Why not?"

He shrugged. "Because of our relative roles in the command structure? Because I don't get the sense that you're the kind of woman who takes being led particularly well? Because it's not a side of me I've used much in the past two and a half years? Take your pick." There were those other reasons, too, why him loosening up and taking charge around her felt like a terrible idea, but he wouldn't voice those. Even to himself.

Janeway looked down at herself and then cast a glance over him, too. "Maybe keeping the uniforms on was a mistake."

He laughed a little. "Maybe."

She sighed. "Well, it's getting late. We should probably call it a night."

"All right." He was expecting her to call time on this dancing idea, too. But she didn't.

"Let's try again tomorrow?" Janeway asked, instead. "I've enjoyed this, Chakotay."

He realised that her cheeks had a healthier flush than he'd seen in weeks. Her eyes were brighter, too. She really had enjoyed it, and he was glad. He could see the pall of depression that had been hovering over her for the past week or so lifting.

Despite himself, he smiled. "Of course."

Janeway smiled back. "I can deal with you leading," she told him. "Don't be afraid to take charge. OK?"

He wasn't sure that it was OK, but he wasn't going to say as much. That might have meant explaining why, if only to himself.

[TBC]