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Staring at the closed doors leading to the holodeck, she winces in slight pain when she bites down on her sensitive bottom lip for the tenth time in the past ten minutes. She has been at odds with herself the moment Seska left Voyager. She was not wholly surprised by her deceit, yet that didn’t stop the pain from her parting words to course through her mind, nearly rendering her speechless at the precise moment she needed to be her strongest.
Why? She keeps asking herself. The Kazon are technologically advanced, yes, but do they have the power to get any of them back home to the Alpha Quadrant? She doesn’t see how, not when they can’t even handle a simple piece of technology. A food replicator, of all things.
She had overheard what Seska had told Chakotay, her reasons as to why she had traded with the Kazon. She would like to think that if their past dealings with the Kazon had never happened, she would be more apt at trading with them in return for their protection. Hell, if they were friendlier when we first met, I would have thought twice before destroying the Caretaker’s Array.
Yet, in the Delta Quadrant, she doesn’t have the luxury to think twice about aligning herself with a race of aliens that bully their way through this small section of the galaxy. They shot first and, since then, she has done her best to protect both her crew and ship.
Does that make me a Starfleet snob, blindly following the rules set forth by a group of people thousands of lightyears away? Possibly, but I was always taught that if one doesn’t stand for nothing, then they will fall for anything. In an unknown quadrant, one cannot be spineless and expect to escape unscathed.
Focusing her attention back onto the doors leading into the holodeck, she pushes her thoughts of Starfleet and Kazon to the back of her mind. The plight of Seska had shocked quite a few crewmembers, Maquis and Starfleet alike, but none more so than Chakotay. While he has been at sufficient efficiency, as stated by Tuvok when she had consulted with him an hour ago, he had told her of his conversation with the Commander. She was quickly reminded of when she found out that a small group, including her closest advisor, had gone behind her back to covertly acquire the fold technology from the Sikarians.
It’s a deceit that one never expects, despite all the evidence that says otherwise.
The pain of that deceit has the power to strip one of all of their logic and understanding, reducing them to a corded ball of agony, drowning with constant ‘what if’s’ and ‘why’s’.
It is with that, she finds herself standing in front of Holodeck Two, Chakotay in the middle of his calisthenics program. For the past - she glances at the ship’s time on the control panel - fourteen minutes, she wonders if she should even be here in the first place. She wants to check on him, yet she holds herself back. Since the night they shared their first dinner, they have been flirting along a fine line of being the only Starfleet command team within seventy thousand lightyears and sharing something beyond spectacular. She has done her best at keeping whatever is growing between them at bay, their professionalism taking the ultimate precedence. For the most part, she is able to follow along that safe path, however it’s at times like these where she can’t help to reach out to him with a touch that will ignite a small spark of electricity between them.
The captain in her expects the professionalism, while the woman in her craves the spark.
All the while she battles these feelings, the Darkness within her soul reminds her of her past choices; the pain, the guilt, the desire to bury it all.
Glancing at the time again, she reasons with herself that it is her duty as both the captain and a friend to check up on the Commander to make sure that he is safe. She presses the code to open the door before she can lose her nerve.
Stepping in, the first thing she notices is the sparse plant life of what looks to be an abandoned colony. Its gritty scenery complements the hot musk of sweat and rage that envelopes her. Unsure of what to expect, her senses are on high alert, she looks for him as she gingerly steps over the debris scattered all around. Just as she is about to give up and go back, she hears a grunt of pain and the sound of something hard hitting a metal barrel. Turning and making her way towards the scuffling sounds, she rolls her eyes as her heeled boots stumble along the rocky ground, the intensity of the obvious fight now growing louder.
Stopping just short of a few abandoned pipes lying hazardously on the ground, concern quickly turns to shock when she sees Chakotay violently fighting with bare fists with another male – one that is thankfully not part of their crew. The jabs, punches and kicks that they inflict upon each other are so quick that she has a hard time keeping up with who is winning and who is losing. To her credit, however, it doesn't help that her attention is constantly drawn to his bare chest, a thick sheen of sweat covering his tanned skin as a pair of elastic trousers hugs his constantly moving hips.
Licking her parched lips and nervously adjusting her communicator, she briefly glances around to make sure that there are no others waiting for a surprise attack. As she looks back at him, she notices dark bruises starting to form along his arm and face as well as the light trickle of blood trailing down his cheek. Just from the few minutes she has witnessed, she guesses that he is losing the fight.
That is until Chakotay frees himself from against the wall and clocks the other fighter under his chin, knocking him out.
Smiling as she sees him grinning with his victory, he calls out, “Next.”
Shuffling around the broken crates to get a better view, her hip clips the thick wood which causes a few pipes to fall onto the ground. Looking down at the mess she had made, she glances up to see Chakotay staring at her with wide eyes. Just as he takes a few steps towards her, she sees his next opponent sneaking up behind him. “Chakotay! Behind you!”
He turns just in time to block the first punch, but his weight is completely off kilter to fully take on a full frontal assault. With a swift kick, the opponent takes Chakotay down to the ground, his heel dropping hard on his chest. Her stomach twists as Chakotay doubles over in pain, the programmed opponent taking advantage by lifting Chakotay up by his hair and rearing his arm back to deliver the finishing blow.
“Computer, stop program,” she yells out towards the opponent as she wrestles her way through an opening of the wired fence, “authorization Janeway, beta-five-zero-nine!” The opponent is completely still as she comes running up to the pair of them. “Have you lost your fucking mind?! He could have killed you!” She looks down to see Chakotay staring at her with a vicious intensity she had only seen across a viewscreen in the midst of a battle. “Computer,” she hoarsely whispers, “remove all characters.”
He juts his chin up in defiance. “I could have taken him.”
“He would have beaten you to a pulp.” Without any thought to her actions, she bends down on her knees in front of him and evaluates his wounds. “Computer, generate a bowl of warm water, a washcloth, analgesic cream, and various sized bandages.” When he looks as if he is about to argue with her, she easily snaps, “You either get me or the Doctor.”
Relaxing his body against the back of his legs, she dips the cloth into the warm water and wipes away the sweat and dirt from his face. “No dermal regenerator,” he hisses as she applies the analgesic to his open wound.
She places a butterfly bandage along the small cut just above his brow. “If you had the safety protocols on, then you wouldn’t need a dermal regenerator.”
“You distracted me.”
“Right, blame this all on me,” she tuts under her breath. Leaning back, she grabs the cloth and washes off the dried blood and grime caked on his shoulders and chest. Despite her anger with him, her hands are gentle as she draws the cloth along his bruised skin, her fingers deftly applying the analgesic to the small wounds that litter his body.
“I don’t blame you.” His words are barely above a whisper, laced with a pain that has nothing to do with the wounds she is caring for.
“She didn't just betray you.” She throws the cloth into the bowl of dirty water and leans back on her feet. “She betrayed everyone on this ship.”
“I should have caught it. I should have–”
She places her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t allow yourself to drown under the oppressive weight of ‘what if’s’ or ‘I should have’s’.”
“But the things she said–”
She shakes her head. “We don’t have the technology to go back into the past. We made the necessary decisions based on the data in front of us. I won’t go back on them, not now or ever.”
His head hangs low. “I’m sorry.”
Lifting his chin with the tip of her finger, she shakes her head. “Don’t you dare, not when you have done nothing wrong.” She focuses on his eyes, the warmth replaced with the cold glint of guilt. “She fooled all of us; Vulcans, doctors, and Captains alike.”
“I feel like I have–”
“Move on, Chakotay. I assure you that she has already.”
Taking a deep breath, he gives her a slight nod.
Taking her own deep breath, her smile is soft as she selfishly allows her thumb to draw a line under his bottom lip. It is at that moment does she remember that they are both in a public holodeck. Dropping her hand into her lap, she lifts her chin and states, “Your holodeck privileges have been revoked for a week.”
His grin is playful as he retorts, “It was worth it.”
“Humph.” She rolls her eyes. “How so?”
His dimples widen. “Doctor Janeway is far more attractive than the Hologram Doctor.”
Her throat instantly dries at the memory of the voyeuristic view of him fighting hand-to-hand combat. While she makes sure that her eyes remain squarely on his smug face with his dimples going on for days, the image of his bare chest causes heat to flush along her cheeks. Desire slithers deep into the pit of her belly and pools in an area that she silently wishes wasn't forbidden to him. Swallowing hard, she does her best to make sure her voice is as tough as steel. “Be that as it may, the next time I catch you in the Holodeck with the safeties off, then I will have no choice but to write you up.”
“So, there will be a next time?”
Beyond tired of his complacent smile and his flirty wisecracks, she abruptly stands and dust the dirt off of her uniform. “Good night, Commander.”
Just as she dramatically turns away from him, he calls out to her, “Have dinner with me.”
The nerve of him, she rolls her eyes. Swiveling around, a snarky answer on the tip of her tongue, she loses all coherent thought when she comes face-to-face with his barrel of a chest.
Stepping closer to her, he tips her chin up with the crook of his finger. Gone is the guilt and the self-deprecation and even the smug smile. His eyes, which are now warm and gooey, silently pleads with her. “Please.”
She shakes her head, yet it is not with the same conviction she had on previous occasions.
His fingers extend along her cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing the line of her bottom lip. “How do you know you will fuck this up if you never even try?” The tip of his nose kisses her own.
The Darkness, playing right into Chakotay’s words, brings forth a rolling montage of every bad decision, every heartbreak she had caused, in her mind. Pressing her hand against his chest, she pulls away from him. “Because I fuck everything up.”
He shakes his head, his fingers still reaching out to her. “I don’t believe that, not for a second.”
She gingerly takes a few more steps back. “I don’t need your understanding to know my limitations.”
“Then perhaps you should punch your way through them.”
She tries to ignore the way he effortlessly uses her own words against her, however, it snakes its way into her heart and refuses to leave despite the Darkness’ glowering stare. Needing time to understand everything, she takes one more step back. “Good night, Commander.”
Just as she turns to walk away from him, she hears him murmur, “Good night, Kathryn.” Yet this time, she does not stop.