CHAPTER THIRTEEN

 

The sight of Earth out the window sent a cold shudder through Janeway as she faced the reality of what she was returning to. Durant was waiting somewhere out there, wondering what had happened to her, probably still enraged from her attack on him. Empek was there, the man who would kill her if she failed to handle this the right way.

 

Seven’s voice frequently overlapped B’Elanna’s somewhere behind her as the former drone hacked into Durant’s private database. Kathryn had every confidence in her abilities– she had no doubt Seven would succeed. But standing near that woman right now brought her too much pain, and the old, irrational sense of betrayal. She would focus on Durant, and try not to let her thoughts stray to Seven and Chakotay. Just the thought made her feel ill.

 

“Nervous?”

 

          Paris’s easy voice behind her brought her back from her reverie.

 

          “No,” Janeway replied automatically, and then, upon some reflection, realized she was speaking the truth. Despite some lingering unease, mostly her being was filled with a dead calm. This was going to be resolved, at last. Either way, for better or for worse, no more of this hanging between two existences.

 

          “I think they’re almost done back there,” Paris told her. “B’Elanna installed a tracking bug in the file, so the second one of Empek’s buddies locates those files in the database, we’ll know it.”

 

          “Good.” She took a few steadying breaths. Her blue eyes darted briefly up to the chronometer, her jaw square and stiff, resolve minted upon her features. “I’m almost ready to go.”

          Paris still looked uneasy. “Maybe we should give Empek some time to receive word,” he suggested. “No need for you to go back so soon.”

 

          “It would look too suspicious if I returned to Durant at the same time those files surfaced. Empek would see through that.”

 

          He’ll probably see through it anyway, she reflected grimly.

          “Maybe there’s another way,” Paris offered, and this time a hint of anger touched his voice. “I hate to think of you seeing that bastard again."

          A flood of warmth penetrated the numbness in her heart, and Janeway smiled sincerely, genuinely touched by his concern. She still had them– her crew, her family. Just as she was looking out for them, they were looking out for her.

 

          “Thank you, Tom, but I’ll be fine,” she glanced up at him over her shoulder, trying to reassure him. “I don’t know where Empek is, but we know he’ll visit Durant at some point. This is the only way I can ensure we’ll meet. There’s still a possibility we can work out a deal.”

 

          She didn’t add the second reason she needed to be with her despised husband, her own private knowledge. Kathryn was preparing to send a transmission to one of the major media organizations, an anonymous tip from someone ‘on the inside’ about the nature of Admiral Janeway’s kidnapping. Naturally, an anonymous tip was always questionable and highly debated, but it would have a dire effect upon Durant’s campaign in any case, to the extreme if the authorities investigated and found her in Durant’s house.

 

          It was critical that she be found there. It would prove the single, fatal move she had prepared to destroy Durant politically and vindicate Chakotay.

 

          And speaking of Chakotay...

          “Is he still sleeping?” Kathryn asked softly.

          Paris glanced back towards the door beyond B’Elanna and Seven. “Yeah. The doctor had to practically sedate him, but once he was down, he was out-- sleeping like a baby.”

          Kathryn smiled at the image. “Good. He probably hasn’t slept eight hours total in the past week.”

          And it’s probably better this way.

          With a final, heavy sigh, Kathryn pressed her hands down on the arm rests and pushed herself to her feet. “I’m going.”

 

          “Now?” Tom was incredulous. “Already? Chakotay’s still–”

          “It doesn’t make a difference either way,” Janeway said gloomily. “Either we’ll both see each other again in a few days, or we’ll both die. He’s probably seen more than enough of me recently.”

          “I wouldn’t say that–”

          “I’ve ruined his life.”

          “Don’t blame yourself for this,” Tom said reassuringly. “You know it killed him when he thought he’d lost you.”

          Janeway had to shut her eyes quickly to prevent them from tearing up.

 

          Tom’s voice was rich with emotion, “Admiral–”

          “Don’t,” she choked out, “I hate goodbyes. You know that. And you know why I want to leave before he wakes.” When she opened her eyes again, she saw understanding in his.

 

          “Yes, ma’am.”

 

          She smiled, her eyes shiny. She reached out and grasped his hand in hers. “Just tell them I left.”

 

          He couldn’t seem to find anything to say, so he just nodded, holding her hand briefly before she slipped away, vanishing into the transporter room.

          * * *

          It was night. He was tired, hungry, moody. He hadn’t slept properly in days, he swore he was getting an ulcer as he watched the situation slip gradually out of control. Empek had been right. The kidnapping story, it was just too complicated to maintain. He had no clue where Chakotay was, he had no way to find Janeway. Maybe he could have created a hologram, or perhaps passed her disappearance off as unscheduled vacation time...

 

          The door hissed open behind him, and he whirled around see Kathryn Janeway hovering in the doorway of his home office. He stared at the specter before him, frozen in shock. One of Janeway's hands clutched the doorframe, knuckles white with tension, and her sharp eyes followed him apprehensively. Her auburn hair hung flat and unruly about her pale face, lending her simultaneously a weary and tense look about her. Thin lips were pressed tightly together, and he could see her chest rising and falling rapidly from where he stood. It didn’t take a Betazoid to see her fear.

 

          After a moment's hesitation, she took a tentative step towards him, the door hissing shut behind her. She drew in a breath to speak, began, "John--"

 

          There was no conscious thought preceding it. He simply lanced forward, as if on animal instinct, two long strides, and his fist swung. Rage and exhilaration thrilled through his veins as her jaw gave way beneath his fist. Her entire body jerked away, careening violently back to the floor, leaving her crumpled on the floor like a helpless child. She lay at his feet, her body trembling, for a long moment before she pushed herself up, arms unsteady beneath her.

 

          Durant watched the pathetic display, marveling at his unexpected strength, at the fact that he’d once feared this woman. Maybe it was justified, once, when she was a Starfleet Captain with razor sharp reflexes, the woman she had been when he’d first met her. But now? How could he have ever feared this creature?

 

          He'd hurt her. And it had been so very easy to do.

 

          His heart thumped wildly in his chest. *I could kill her, if I wanted to. I don’t need a phaser, I could kill her now. *

 

          He stepped towards her again. A look of alarm passed fleetingly over Janeway's features as she tried to flinch away, and her face contorted in pain when he tangled his fist in her hair and yanked her with him. She cried out when her feet failed to keep up and gave way beneath her. It amused him the way her scrawny legs kicked against the ground, her weak fingers trying to dig into the flesh of his hand, to pry his grip from her. She wanted to hurt him; he barely even felt it. He threw her then-- cracking her head against the corner of the desk, relishing her whimper of pain as she fell to the floor with a heavy thunk.

 

          Janeway lay there, her hands clamped over her bruised eye, the unbloodied eye watching him with nothing short of terror. A tiny trickle of red seeped from the corner of her mouth.

 

          Durant hovered above her, breath ripping raggedly in and out of his lungs. A moment passed before she slowly eased herself up, then stumbled back again. It took her nearly a minute before she was on her feet before him, swaying unsteadily, pain coloring her features, tension gripping her tiny frame. He knew that right now he’d have little trouble pressing her to the floor and taking everything she had tried to deny him, resolving that old issue always hanging between them. But somehow, knowledge of his power had momentarily dampened his need.

 

          His rage drained from him as suddenly as it had come.

 

          Fighting a sudden exhaustion, Durant demanded, "What happened?" His tone was terse and clipped. "Where the hell have you been?"

 

          "Chakotay." Her voice was quiet, her speech slurred with her stiff jaw. "He kidnapped me. I just woke up in the-- he wouldn't let me go."

 

          Before Durant could speak, Janeway's fearful expression suddenly melted into one of despair. "Oh John," Janeway's voice was ragged, and he was alarmed to see tears spring to her eyes. "It was horrible! He wouldn't let me go--" Her voice became congested, her words interspersed with sobs and incoherent sounds. "... I didn't know where we were, and he wouldn't tell... he killed them, killed them all-- and they were only there to rescue me! Oh but it was worse..."

 

          She threw herself into his arms, and Durant found himself at a loss as he held her shuddering body. Of all the things he'd expected, this wasn't one of them. He ran his hand uneasily up and down her back as she related her horrific tale-- her terror when she awoke Chakotay's captive, when it became clear he wouldn't release her, her fear when she struggled to escape, her shame when she remembered how terribly she'd injured Durant.

 

          He stopped listening to her words once he realized it was simple emotional garbage rather than anything useful, and he found his thoughts straying to the media tumult looming outside Starfleet Headquarters. Somehow she'd managed to sneak back onto Earth without alerting authorities. He was disappointed. He had no dramatic rescue to present to the quadrant, nor had he the body of her kidnapper as proof of his heroism. This wouldn't do. It would look suspicious. How would he spin the situation? And how the hell would he get her to shut up and tell him the story straight out?

 

          "Kathryn," Durant said finally, pulling back even as she resisted the separation, her face red with her tears. "Kathryn!" He shook her shoulders, and was rewarded only by her full weight suddenly sagging down upon his hands. Tilting her head back slightly, he was incredulous to find her unconscious in his arms.

 

          It was two days before Tondra agreed it was safe to wake her. He felt a mixture of pride and regret when he discovered his physical assault upon her, and not her emotional distress, was responsible for her unconsciousness. The gnawing anxiety of the last week had faded somewhat now that he had possession of her, but he still drew a blank when it came to a course of action. He needed a plan.

 

          And Empek. He needed Empek. Where the hell was Empek?

 

                                                                                                                    * * *

 

          Empek intently studied the Starfleet Command file. It was all there, meticulously detailed. Notes on Empek's first rendezvous with Durant, the exact sentences uttered during each and every encounter. Notes on Empek's contacts on Deep Space Seven, in Paris, in Amsterdam, and various other places Empek had included Durant in Syndicate activity. Observations of Empek’s character. Lists of Empek’s sources at Starfleet Command. Names recorded, faces described. Durant had been meticulous in his record keeping.

 

          The source who had relayed the information had suggested that these notes were simply products of Durant's caution. Durant likely required accurate reference material in case of future contingencies. He was only being careful.

 

          But even if that were true, what was this information doing in the database at Starfleet Command?

 

          Empek could guess. It had all been a sham. Durant had claimed he wanted Empek's help in his bid for the presidency, when in reality, he had been using Empek. Durant was hoping to deal a blow to the Syndicate, to gather as much information as possible on the organization by working with it, and then to reveal it all to his fellow Starfleet Officers. Given time, Empek might have introduced Durant to the top brass of the Orion Syndicate, the men who remained a secret even to many of their own underlings. This Admiral could single-handedly have taken the Orion Syndicate down in flames, and Empek would have been his tool to do it.

 

          Destroy the Syndicate. If that feat couldn’t get a man elected to the presidency, Empek didn't know what could. Durant was a clever man.

          Empek felt a fleeting respect for Durant's resourcefulness. He had taken Empek in line and sinker. Better yet, he had fooled Empek's superiors. How the under bosses would despise Durant for it. And how grateful they would be to Empek once he terminated their betrayer.

          Empek felt strangely relieved. Had Durant truly been an ally, and had he lost his presidential bid, Empek would surely have lost his life. Had Durant been publicly discredited while he was in the Syndicate‘s good graces, Empek would have lost his life. Now that Durant was exposed as an active enemy of the Syndicate, he could be discredited, scorned, killed for all Empek cared, and the blame would not rest upon Empek's shoulders. There would surely be purging in the upper echelons of the organization, those who originally had the foolery to include Durant in their plans, but Empek would be safe from that retaliation if he acted now.

          Empek needed to conceal the Syndicate's affiliation with the soon-to-be-late Admiral Durant, to erase all data on the organization from Starfleet’s database. Simple enough. He would arrange it immediately.

 

          And as for his own tasks... Terminate Durant. Pleasurable enough. Terminate Janeway.

                   Empek paused a moment, trying to figure out the other Admiral's role in this. She was the only variable he could not factor into this equation. If Durant was a loyal Starfleet Officer, if this had all been a sham, why would he have allowed Empek’s mistreatment of Janeway? The termination of Janeway's family, of her crewmen?

          While Empek knew many people at Starfleet Command viewed Janeway unfavorably, he also knew none of those sturdy Admirals would resort to murdering her family for the sake of taking down the Syndicate.

 

          Empek stared back at the terminal on the desk in front of him. It was too simple. Too neat. Yes, the organization would buy the story of Durant‘s betrayal. Yes, the media would turn a blind eye to the Syndicate‘s role in Durant‘s disgrace and eventual death. But someone had counted upon that. Had Durant truly betrayed the Syndicate, he would have concealed this information somewhere Empek could never hope to find it. But it was sitting conveniently in the command database, waiting to be exposed to Empek‘s sources.

                                                                                                * * *

 

          When her eyes slipped open, something in her expression had cleared since the last time they spoke. Durant was relieved that she was somewhat collected now-- he had no clue how to deal with Janeway in an emotional mess-- and he eased her up and pressed a glass of water to her lips. She swayed a little unsteadily, but drank eagerly, draining the entire glass.

 

          “Feeling ready to talk?” he asked.

 

          “Talk?” her voice was slightly weak, and the eyes she turned to him bleary. “What do we need to talk about?”

 

          Perhaps still disoriented, her attention seemed to stray, and he quickly snaked his fingers into her hair so he could hold her gaze to his. "How did you get back here, to Earth? Did anyone see you?"

          A shaky smile spread across her face then. "Chakotay let me go. I talked him into it. And..." her brow furrowed, puzzled. “I don’t know if anyone saw me.”

          This was bad. Very bad. He needed-- No, perhaps it could work. Admiral Janeway’s repentant kidnapper. Maybe word could be spread that Durant’s eloquent statements had convinced him to release his beloved wife... But goddamn it, they needed to apprehend Chakotay. The story had to be straight with him. If he were arrested and he revealed the details about exactly how Janeway had slipped so easily into his hands...

          "Kathryn, we need to get our stories straight, do you understand me?" Durant's voice was loud and careful, as though he spoke to a child. She looked away, and he pulled her head back around so they were face to face. "We need to find Chakotay and get our stories straight."

          "Oh no," Janeway said quickly, her expression suddenly fearful. "Don't make me see him again, John. Please."

          "We have to. Can you tell me where he is? Do you know?"

 

          She hesitated, her blue eyes flickering. "I... think he left Earth."

 

          “Did he say where he was going?”

          She shook her head mutely, meek as a kitten. Too meek. What had happened to this woman? Had her ordeal at Chakotay’s hands left her this traumatized? What could he have done–

          Had she ever behaved this way? After he hurt her, hurt her family, her friends, had she ever been silent, compliant, fearful?

          And the only man who could give him answers had left Earth. Chakotay. Gone. How inconvenient.

 

          Too inconvenient.

 

          And then Durant felt a stab of suspicion, so fresh, so terrible in his mind. Oh God... he thought, sick with the thought that, even now, she might be planning something.

          His grip in her hair tightened, and Janeway visibly winced, trying to pull out of his grip.

          "Kathryn," Durant said, his voice deadly. "What is going on?"

          Janeway immediately responded to the tone. He felt her entire body tense, and her expression froze, her breathing suddenly halted.

          Innocently, she said, "What-- I don't know what you mean."

 

          The sheer lack of guile on her face confirmed it for him, and he yanked her closer to him, roughly enough that she nearly fell off the sick bed. His hand clamped the other side of her head. "Kathryn," Durant growled warningly, holding her wide blue eyes, "I know something's going on. You're trying to trick me. Do I have to call Empek? Do I? Because, by God, you know I will."

          Janeway's eyes suddenly became cool, glacial, and the tiny smirk that tugged at her lips chilled him. "Call Empek." Her voice was ice. "Be my guest."

          This right here was the woman he knew, the woman with the cold blue eyes, the twisted, cynical smirk, the stony expression on her face. Did she know Empek had neglected him recently? Did she know something he didn’t know about Empek’s silence?

          He was afraid then. Terrified. Terrified of what she was plotting. Afraid of what she already had accomplished. What the hell did she know that he didn’t know?

          Durant kept a wary eye on her and he tapped into his keypad his silent transmission to Empek’s residence, despite his foreknowledge that Empek was off somewhere, that he might not reply for days.

          Janeway rolled off the bed and lowered herself into one of the plush arm chairs across the room, eyeing him like a hawk, her expression smug.

          That alone confirmed it for him.

* * *

          Empek was watching his viewer. A special Federation News Report. The harried female reporter had a look of genuine confusion on her face as she intoned uncertainly, “... received word from a source close to Durant that Admiral Janeway’s kidnapping was a publicity stunt for Jonathan Durant’s campaign for the presidency. Kathryn Janeway is presently safe, and if these allegations are true, installed in Jonathan Durant’s residence. If this revelation proves accurate, it will have profound implications for the upcoming presidential race. Councilman Sovar has already issued a statement condemning--”

 

          Empek didn’t need to know more. How convenient that Durant was tarnished before the quadrant shortly after being tarnished in the eyes of the Orion Syndicate. How convenient that whoever had leaked the career-shattering information to the media now was safe from the Syndicate‘s wrath.

          Empek knew who had orchestrated the entire setup.

          He looked balefully at the message blinking on the other screen, Durant’s request for his presence. He’d ignored it quite purposefully the last few days, trying to puzzle out the true nature of Durant’s involvement with the Syndicate. If Janeway truly was back with Durant, as he claimed in his message, perhaps it was high time Empek paid them a visit.

                                                                                                          * * *

 

          "Chakotay. COMMANDER CHAKOTAY!"

 

          He shot up, just inches away from cracking his head on the overhead bunk. He stared blearily for a moment around the dim room, disoriented and still bearing the heavy mantle of exhaustion. His mind danced quickly over the events of the last few days-- Seven's magic with Durant's computer, Janeway's abrupt departure, Tom departing for a clandestine meeting with his father. The recent hours had been slow and drawn out, leaving Chakotay hanging in terrible suspense as he waited for the cards to fall.

 

          But now he was confused. Had someone shouted his name? Was there something wrong?

 

          The doors hissed open, and the Doctor's bald head peeked in.

 

          "Commander," the hologram's voice was thin with tension, "You had better get down here."

 

          Chakotay didn't need to be told twice. He threw off the blankets, glanced over briefly at the half-Klingon stubbornly clinging to sleep at his side. He grasped her shoulder with a large hand and shook her insistently.

 

          "B'Elanna..."

 

          Torres half-moaned, half-growled a sleepy, "This better be good."

          "I'll let you decide that," the Doctor said from the doorway, gesturing for Chakotay to follow him.

          He could hear his heart thumping in his ears as he followed the hologram down the constricted corridor. They emerged into the cockpit to find the ever-stoic Seven of Nine staring grimly at the view screen.

          "...in case you are just joining us, the Federation News Network has just received an allegation from a source close to Durant that Admiral Janeway’s disappearance is a, and I quote, ‘publicity stunt’ for Jonathan Durant’s campaign. Although the truth of this accusation is still in dispute, the credibility of the source...."

          Chakotay listened in mounting horror.

          "...the authorities are dismissive of the allegation, but FNN has received confirmation they will nevertheless investigate..."

 

          "My God," Chakotay murmured, rubbing his cheek with his fingers. He found himself at a loss. Of all the scenarios he'd imagined, this was from left field...

          "This is good, right?" Torres said, glancing between the others. "They'll find Janeway with him, and the whole lid will be off about the real Durant."

          "No, it's not," Chakotay's voice was grim. "If Durant knows they're looking for her, he's going to make sure they never find her.."

          "What do you--"

 

          "He'll kill her."

          They fell silent, staring mutely at the view screen as the reporter continued relating the story.

          Chakotay had a sudden feeling of helplessness, knowing she was down there at the mercy of Durant and beyond his help. How would he find her? She could be anywhere-- Durant's private residences, planetside Syndicate residences. She could be dead already.

          No. He shook his head briefly. Not dead. He would know. If she'd been killed, somehow, he would know.

          "B'Elanna," he said quietly, "Did Empek ever find those files?"

          "Someone stumbled on them. I don't know if it was Empek... But Chakotay, it’s only been two days. We don’t even know if Empek’s received them yet. I don't know if there was time--"

          "Then we can't count on Empek to take out Durant," Chakotay said with a calm he did not feel. "We need another approach."

 

          "What do you intend to do?" Seven of Nine asked.

          Seeing the look that stole in his eyes, Torres immediately gauged his intent. "Chakotay, no," she said harshly, whipping forward to block his path. "They're looking for you. They still think you're a fugitive down there, and if you're captured you'll play right into Durant's hands..."

          He understood her objection. Durant would have a chance to kill him. If Durant succeeded, he could fabricate any story he wanted about Janeway's kidnapping and have Chakotay's body as evidence. He could even kill Kathryn and point the finger to Chakotay without a living party to object to the falsehood. If Chakotay ventured there and the situation went wrong, they would lose everything.

 

          But damn it, Kathryn was in danger. He wasn't going to let Durant kill her, not without a fight, even if it meant he had to put everything on the line.

          The Doctor and Seven were not following the exchange, and the Doctor appeared baffled. "Commander, I'm not sure what you mean to accomplish, but--"

          Chakotay pushed Torres aside, fumbled beneath the console, and pulled out a phaser compression rifle.

          "It's quite simple, Doctor," Chakotay said in a voice that chilled the hologram. His eyes glittered as he stared darkly at the view screen. "I'm going to find her, and then I’m going to find him. If he hurts her, Durant's a dead man."

 

           

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

 

          Kathryn watched the chronometer intently, the harsh red numbers glaring at her through the darkness.  Her body felt ramrod stiff, the rhythm of her heart frantic in her chest.  She'd summoned enough courage to send the transmission only a few hours before, disclosing some parting information regarding Durant's affiliation with certain members of that media organization as proof that she was someone in the know.  They couldn't discount her word, but hopefully, they wouldn't immediately discern her identity.

 

          It would be broadcast any minute now, or it may already have been.  Her eyes flitted sharply across the room, to Durant, hovering with gray-faced agitation over a console as he fretted over Empek's silence.  He would hear about it soon; even if he wasn't watching the viewer, someone within his campaign would notify him.  Tondra, maybe.  Hopefully not Empek.

 

          And hopefully, their scheming had already poisoned Empek's view of Durant.  If not, Empek would interpret her move against his ally Durant as a move against the Syndicate, and eliminate her crew in retaliation.

 

          But if she hadn't made that move, she would have condemned her best friend to the existence of a fugitive.

 

          She glanced down at her hands, twisted together in her lap.  The knowledge that she might just have bailed Chakotay out of the mess gave her a tiny degree of comfort.  She tried to ignore the stab of pain when she thought of him, not needing to be reminded of what she'd lost with him.

 

          She couldn’t help but think over the mistakes she’d made.  If she'd been more receptive to him on Voyager, he would have stayed with her upon their return to Earth.  Durant would never have approached her, her family and crewmen would still be alive, Chakotay would have no price on his head, and she would not be sitting here with all their fates hinging upon whether the Orion Syndicate had been efficient enough to discover those files at Starfleet Command.

 

          For that matter, Seven would never have known a broken heart, B'Elanna and Tom would never have had to endanger their child, Admiral Paris would still be her friend.

 

          Then, of course, had she been more receptive, she might never have become the original Admiral Janeway who traveled back through time to get Voyager home.  They might all have been killed in the Delta Quadrant.  Chakotay might have died in her arms, rather than Seven in his.  They could have been assimilated.  Or devoured by a giant pitcher--

 

          *Enough!*  She checked herself before her thoughts strayed farther.

 

          If it all went according to plan, Empek would arrive, hopefully before Durant turned on the news.  He would be convinced of Durant's culpability and kill him.  She would have a chance to speak with him before he killed her, a chance to ascertain his plans with regards to her crew.  Would he still kill them?  Or would her death fulfill the thirst for vengeance of the Syndicate?  As far as he would be concerned, she’d complied with all his directives.  He’d have no reason to hurt anyone else.

 

          Kathryn knew she stood little chance of persuading him to spare her life.  She was the witness.  His witness.  As long as she lived, there was someone who could reveal the involvement of the Syndicate with the infamous Durant.  The reputation and relatively secure standing of the Syndicate would be deeply tarnished if it were associated with this failure.  It was their code, never to leave a witness alive.  That code was the sole reason the crime syndicate had flourished over the years when other less-than-legitimate organizations went down in flames.  They were, in their own twisted way, reliable.

 

          Her husband's voice cut through her reverie. 

 

          "Well, damned if I know what he's up to."

 

          Janeway looked up quickly to see Durant leaning against the console, his arms folded across his chest.  He hadn't left her alone since she'd returned, always watching her when she moved, ordering Tondra to sedate her when he left the compound or slumbered.  He was convinced it was the threat of Empek that made her his compliant prisoner.  He had no idea she remained with him only to ensure her desired outcome of this mess.

 

          She studied him closely.  His face looked gray and haggard, his usual vibrancy having deserted him.  His brown hair was damp with sweat.  The stress had driven him to repeatedly rake his fingers through it, and it rested in wet strands across his forehead, unkempt and sloppy.  His entire demeanor spoke of a despondency she hadn't yet seen on him.  She almost smiled.  It was a damn fine sight to see.

 

          "Empek is off somewhere..." Durant recounted wearily, "The general public thinks you've been kidnapped and I'm absolutely baffled as to how I'll pull this off...  Chakotay is nowhere to be found...  You've clearly figured out some way to hurt me, and I have no idea what it is, and no way to find out..."

 

          At the surprise on her face, he smiled, his expression surprisingly bland.  "You've been back the last few days, drifting around the place like a ghost. Even if it wasn't for that smug look I keep catching on your face when my back is turned, I'd know from something else.  You've always been transparent to me, Kathryn."

 

          She felt a brief flash of anger at his assumption, but quickly stifled it.  Let him operate under that assumption.  She would have the last laugh.

 

          He smiled suddenly.  The sudden shift in his demeanor told her he'd drawn up his mantle of charm and charisma.  When he turned to her with a reassuring twinkle in his eyes, her suspicion was confirmed, and she was immediately wary.

 

          "You know, it was so different just two weeks ago," Durant said thoughtfully, holding her eyes as he took a few steps towards her.  "Tondra, Empek, me-- hell, Kathryn, even you... We were like clockwork, always on the same step together, coordinated.  There was nothing beyond the four of us.  We created all this power, this incredible momentum from nothing– virtually spun hay and into gold.  What the hell happened?"

 

          Janeway stared at him silently, clenching her fingers on the armrests of her chair.  Bastard.  Always trying to inspire false dreams in others.  It wouldn’t work with her.  He would rake no warmth from the bleakness of his acquaintance with her.

 

          As he watched her silently, something resembling affection flooded his features, and he drew closer to her, hovering just a few feet away.  His lips tugged into a smile, one containing no malice, merely a helpless sort of confusion that under different circumstances might seem endearing.

 

          "Why did it have to work out this way, Kathryn?" he asked her softly. "You and I, we could have taken on the universe together.  It didn't have to be this way.  Oh, you hate me," he said as she turned her head sharply away, "I know it.  You don't need to tell me again.  But I don't know how you can just sit there, so stoic and so… self-righteous… when you don't even comprehend what we've lost!  None of this business would have occurred if you'd just cooperated with me in the first place.  I never would have needed to bring Empek into our lives.  It all would have been different."

 

          She barked out a sour laugh.  Suddenly aware that he was standing and she was still seated, she rose up to her feet and circled around the back of the chair, resting her hands on the wooden back to assure herself a solid object remained between them.

 

          "You make it sound like you had no choice in the matter, John."  Her eyes were flashing with contempt.  "I suppose some unseeing hand of fate forced you to murder my family, did it?"

 

          Durant shifted his weight in agitation.  His voice was still patient.  "I did what I had to do.  I had a vision for the Federation, and it could have changed the future.  You complicated everything, Kathryn.  Everything.  I needed you, the Federation needed you, and you wanted nothing more than to throw road blocks in our path.  I only did what I could to clear that path…  Look at it from someone else’s perspective this one time, Kathryn, just this once.  I saw a future that only you could help me achieve.  Can’t you see that  the means justified the ends?"

 

          "That's where you're wrong," she replied quietly.  "The means are every bit as important as the ends.  You murdered seven people, people dear to me– and don't write it off on Empek's conscience; you ordered it, the blood is on your hands.  I don't know how many others were killed indirectly by you through the Syndicate, how many as a result of your actions."

 

          She leaned forward imperceptibly, the withering glare on her face one usually reserved for opponents on the other side of the view screen.

 

          "You were a Starfleet Captain once, John.  You were once a Starfleet Officer over a politician.  You should understand the responsibility that comes with power.  Don't you have any lingering feeling of human compassion?  Can you even comprehend a human life, the emotions, the hopes, the dreams...  All that you stole from those people? And for what?  A vague concept for reforming the government?  You chose a system over a human life?   The system *is* only human lives.  It's there for the very people you hoped to trick into electing you president, for the people you murdered in the name of your vision." 

 

She dropped back a step, suddenly feeling strong and relentless, for the first time in months.   "I would never have let you do it.  I *will never* let you do it.”  Her eyes narrowed on him coldly.  “Your future is never going to happen, John, no matter how many publicity stunts you pull, not even if by some miracle you get your majority yet.  You will get up there and they will see through you and your empty reforms.  Just like I have."

 

          He sneered at that.  "See through me?  Jesus, Kathryn, you just want to twist everything to make me the villain here, don’t you?  Hold on a moment before you play up your powers of perception.  You only ‘saw through me', if that's even the proper term, after I had you in my hands.  You were as thick as anyone else."  His eyes narrowed.  "You always thought the power was yours, didn't you? You could take any man and stuff him into your pocket, including me.  All those months you smiled at me, flirted with me, you thought you were the one twisting me, when I was actually the one manipulating you.”  His tone grew harsher, more contemptuous.  “I think that galled you as much as anything– losing control of the situation.  You just enjoyed your power too much, and it blinded you with me.  And now you talk to me about blood on my hands?  What about the blood on yours?  The future you eliminated when you changed the timeline, the countless aliens you slaughtered to return home.  Or does murder go by a gentler name when it's committed by you?"

 

          "No."

 

          The word was quiet, and easier for her to say than she expected.

 

          "No, it's still murder," she said quietly, watching as he drew a step back with an impassive expression on his face.  "I have as much blood on my hands as yours, more even.  You had your vision for the future, I had my vision of returning to Earth, and I was no better than you when I tried to fulfill my dream.  We're both despicable people, and maybe in a way I deserved you."  She glanced beyond him, out the window towards the looming sky scape of San Francisco.  "But they don't.  Not those people out there, not my crew.  Not my family."

 

          "Nice words, Kathryn.  You almost sounded profound."  He turned away from her and strode over the bookshelf dominating the far wall.  She could hear a faint trickling as he poured himself a drink, and after indulging in a deep swig of the amber liquid, he was again facing her.

 

          "Nice words... but I just don't believe you."  He stared at her over his drink, rocking the glass thoughtfully between two fingers.  "This is not for the people, not for your lost crew.  Your hatred of me is all about you.  You're about control.  You always have been.  Look at the people you kept closest to you on Voyager– a Borg drone and a Vulcan, two people as emotionally stunted as you are, and that pansy Chakotay... You could always just manipulate him at a whim, couldn't you?  But I was different.  I was opinionated.  I was self-aware.  I was–"

 

          "Deluded!" she broke in angrily.  "You always were, John.  That bullshit you'd spew about the future, it was laughable then and it's still ridiculous now.  If you were half the man in reality that you are in your head, you wouldn't have needed me to get you elected.  Oh, you lied well, you schemed well, but in the end, the only way you were able to reach these heights was by standing on my shoulders.”

 

          He shook his head.  "I should have known this would degenerate into an argument.  I tried to talk to you, explain my point of view—”

 

           “You weren’t trying to explain your point of view, you were trying to impose it on me!”

 

“--and you responded like you always do– belligerent, arrogant, stubborn.  I thought maybe the incident with Chakotay would change something, but it hasn't.  You're still an unreasonable, narrow-minded bitch."

 

Janeway just smirked at him, her eyes still cold.  "Can't win the argument, can you, John?  You have to resort to insults now."

 

          He raked his fingers through his thick brown hair in a show of aggravation.  "I'm done with this.  With you."  He whirled away from her and stalked towards the view screen, unaware of Janeway's sudden jolt of alarm.  "You know, maybe I should have just had you killed."  He jabbed his finger at the controls.  "Your Chakotay provided us with ample opportunity–" his voice abruptly cut off as he saw his own face on the view screen.

 

          Janeway bowed her head slightly, her eyelids sinking closed.  The gig was up.  The voice of the reporter droned like white light in the distance, raining down words that were right now shattering Durant's dream.  She opened her eyes to watch his expression intently, wanting to savor the destruction of his hopes before she paid the inevitable price for destroying them.

 

          Sheer astonishment washed over his features.  He stared, stock still, for a long moment, his eyes frozen in place, his mouth open just a crack in stunned disbelief.  Then slowly, gradually, anger began to glimmer in his eyes.  Patches of red made their way to his cheeks.  His features contorted, twisted, and his mild, almost genial appearance transformed before her morbidly fascinated gaze into the terrifying face of a monster..

 

          He slowly turned to face her, and his expression was murderous.  She could see his chest expanding and shrinking rapidly with his breath, his jaw fluttering with the rage pulsing through him.  His eyes were two embers of malice, hate, and for a moment, she was tempted to shrink beneath his gaze.  But no.  She wouldn't.  Kathryn stood firmly in place, meeting his eyes, holding her chin up.  She was determined to show no fear.

 

Something seemed to snap back in place within him, perhaps his politician’s instincts responding the calmness in her.  Durant’s expression froze into a stony mask, only the burning rage in his eyes revealing the effort it was taking him to hold his peace.

         

          After a long, hostile silence, he noted in an edgy voice, "That... anonymous source had information.  Information you knew."

 

          She returned his stare impassively.

 

          Disbelief fought with rage in his expression. "It's a lie.  That report...  You lied to them.  You know I didn't set it up..."

 

          "No," she said wryly, her voice laced with a mixture of triumph and tension.  "You had no hand in my abduction.  Terribly ironic, isn't it?  All the shit you've pulled, and your career will be ruined by the one crime you didn't even commit."

 

          He took a threatening step towards her, then paused warily.  His voice was almost a whisper.  "Why haven't you run?  You know I’m going to kill you."

 

          Janeway shrugged, the intensity in her eyes belying the airiness of her voice.  "No point.  We're both living at the point of Empek's dagger.  I'll die if I run, I'll die if I stay.  At least here I get to watch you go to hell with me."

 

"It won't work.  Your kidnapping-- a publicity stunt?  They’ll never find your body," he said heatedly.  "They'll have no way to prove anything."

 

          "Does that really matter, John?" Kathryn asked sweetly, her voice shaking now with her sadistic pleasure at witnessing his distress.  "They have doubts about you now.  Even if you kill me, they will never see you without wondering about me, without questioning whether you're a murderer."  She smiled sourly.  "You'll never be elected.  You'll never reshape the Federation in your image.  That was all you wanted out of life, wasn’t it?  Well, your life might as well have ended today."  Janeway smiled again, menacingly.  “It may well yet.”

 

          "Empek will help me," Durant said raggedly.  "He'll find a way–"

 

          "I wouldn't count on it." Janeway allowed herself some further satisfaction.  "I don't think Empek will be giving you a great deal of help at all."

 

          His eyes widened imperceptibly, and he glanced suddenly towards the blank message center, then back at her.  "You did something, didn't you?" he demanded.  "What the hell did you do?"

 

          Janeway shook her head.  "That's too easy, John.  I'd prefer you find out for yourself."

 

          He did leap towards her then, grabbing her harshly by the shoulders and slamming her against the wall behind her.

 

          “*What the hell did you do?*”  he roared in her face.  “Answer me, goddamn you!”

 

          "Perhaps I could fill you in."

 

          The frosty male voice, controlled, precise, carefully calculated, sent a chill through Kathryn, and she immediately jerked away from Durant’s grip with a sick feeling.  One glance confirmed her fears.  Empek loomed in the doorway, staring at them with impassive black eyes.  How had he–

 

          "Empek!"

 

          The strained cheer in Durant's voice was palpable, and he practically bounded over to his comrade, urgent and terrified at once.

 

          "Jesus, Empek, she's made a mess of everything," he began quickly, his words running together, spilling into each other.  "She spread a lie about me with the media–"

 

          "I know."

 

          "–and she's done-- God knows what else, Empek—but it’s a mess...  We’ll get rid of her!  I’m not sure--"

 

          "Calm yourself, Admiral," Empek cut in, his voice clinical and detached.  His gaze lingered upon Janeway a long moment, and her tension doubled when she could not decipher the nature of his regard.

 

          "Admiral Janeway has been very busy," Empek spoke up at last, sharing a brief glance with Durant before turning his charcoal gaze back at her.  "Between spreading lies about you with the media and trying to tarnish you with me–"

 

          Janeway's blood ran cold.

 

          "–she's been surprisingly effective at sabotaging your prospects for the presidency."

 

          Kathryn was horrified.  Empek had seen through the planted documents, the press release, and now it was over.  She had no grounds to plead on behalf of her crew.  The Syndicate would kill her crew.  She'd gambled everything and lost, and taken down everyone she cared for in the process.  She’d fucked up.  Oh, Gods, but she’d fucked it up. 

 

Tiny black dots began to swim before her vision, and she was overcome with a sudden nausea.  Her knees grew weak beneath her, and consciousness threatened to slip away.  Her hand instinctively clamped over her side, the other one slithering to clutch the wall behind her in support.

 

          "What did she do?" Durant demanded savagely, his voice surreal, as if at a distance.

 

          "She planted a number of files of yours with Starfleet Command, with the cooperation of Admiral Paris, of course.  Records you kept about my activities.  It would have been very possible for me to misconstrue the reason for their presence there.   I could have come to the wrong conclusions about you."

 

          Durant shot her an enraged look.  It had no impact within the sudden numbness of her heart.

 

          "We can still save this, can’t we?" Durant said with a note of desperation.  "Empek, we’ll get rid of her, and maybe if we find Chakotay–"

 

          "It's too late for that," Empek cut in.  He cast a long glance at Janeway.  "Even if we pulled this off, Admiral, I doubt this scandal would ever leave you.  You overplayed your hand.  The sympathy vote is notoriously fickle, you see.  The slightest suspicion that you had a hand in your own wife's disappearance, and you'll find yourself scrambling for even a primary qualifier.   I warned you.  Unfortunately, you failed to heed my words."

 

          Durant stared at him.  "Empek, I–"

 

          "There comes a point, Admiral, when an investment ceases to pay off.  Instead of vainly attempting to salvage this situation, I have an alternate scenario for you." Empek’s expression had not changed, but his menace drew up about him like an invisible cloak.  His black eyes gleamed like cold marble.  "The Syndicate will turn our eyes from this campaign.  I will contact my superiors, and inform them about the incident with the files, only I'll omit the tiny detail regarding Admiral Janeway’s hand in the matter..."

 

          Janeway looked up sharply, wondering if she'd just heard what she'd thought she heard.

 

          Durant was speechless.  "Empek..." he faltered.

 

          "I don't care to have this failure on my hands; I'd much prefer to have it on yours.  Admiral Janeway's manipulations have provided me with a fairly convenient way out of my commitment to you.  What use are you to me?  You're damaged in the eyes of the public, and soon will be irreparably destroyed in the eyes of the Syndicate."  Empek's voice dropped, "I'm sure no one would raise question if a distraught Admiral Durant mysteriously vanished, clearly fleeing the law after the media uncovers his role in the questionable disappearance of his wife.  You’ll die, she’ll die, and my involvement in this travesty of an investment will be lost in the pages of history."

 

          Durant’s was still agape in disbelief.  The final card had fallen, and he was done for.  All the shit had officially hit the fan.  Kathryn felt an absurd urge to congratulate Empek on a job well done.

 

          And then she realized that something was not quite right here.  If she knew Empek-- which she didn’t—or at least, if she knew his style, she realized he would simply have killed them by now and proceeded with his plan.  There was no need for all this talking.  She felt dizzy again, wondering what all this talking could be about.

 

          “Why are you telling us this?”

 

          Her own voice surprised her, hoarse, somewhat quieter than usual, but still emanating from her vocal chords despite her will to remain silent.

 

          Empek lazily turned his dark eyes towards her, and inclined his head slightly.

 

          “Conversation does lack a certain degree of… efficiency, doesn’t it, Admiral Janeway?  You’re correct if you’ve assumed I have something more in mind.”  His gaze slid back to Durant, and his voice was again without emotion or inflection.  “I require from you, Admiral Durant, the names of everyone who might possibly know about those files.  Doctor Tondra is an obvious candidate, but clearly you’ve had a chance to involve others.  I need to know anyone to whom you’ve revealed our little operation—”

 

          Durant gave a high-pitched laugh, the peril of his situation now very apparent to him.  “You—you just said you’re about to kill me,” his words were spliced with frantic laughter, verging on hysteria.  “And you want me to cooperate with you?”

 

          Empek’s smile was slow and empty.  “I could do far worse in addition to killing you, Admiral.  Infinitely worse.”

 

          Kathryn felt herself smirk, finding the slightest bit of humor despite herself.  “The man knows what he’s talking about, John.  Believe me.”  She earned herself a curious glance from Empek.

 

          “And I’ll, of course, expect the same of you, Admiral Janeway,” Empek continued, turning his attention to her.

 

          Her expression barely flickered.  “I haven’t told anyone.  When would I have had a chance?”  She darted her eyes sharply between the two men.  “You both made sure I had no opportunity.”

 

          “And your…  Mr. Chakotay?” Empek pressed, his eyes narrowing.  “He would know nothing of your predicament?  You never confided in your dearest friend?”

 

          Kathryn hesitated.  “He’s not my dearest friend.  I told you—”

 

          “You told me quite a few fabrications, Admiral Janeway, none of which—Admiral Durant!”  Empek’s black eyes remained locked on Janeway as he spoke.  “I’m aware you’re moving towards the phaser rifle in your bottom desk drawer.  I’d advise you to return to your former spot unless you’d prefer an extended, agonizing fate.”

 

          Kathryn glanced over to see an admonished Durant quickly moving back to his place.  She wondered briefly if Empek even had a weapon on him.  But he had to have something.  And Durant realized it, too.  As she looked into Empek’s impassive black eyes she knew with utmost certainty that he had it within his power to murder them both at this very moment if he chose.

 

          “As I was saying, Admiral, I’ve come to the conclusion that you were, and still are, much closer to Commander Chakotay than you led us to believe—”

 

          “What?” from Durant, in the background.

 

          “Perhaps,” Empek added dispassionately,  “Even on intimate terms.”

 

          “No.”  The single denial was all Kathryn could manage.

 

          Empek’s smile chilled her.  “The ‘Angry Warrior’, the hotel room in Italy, the tension at the gala…”

 

          “How do you know these things?”  Kathryn said in a whisper.

 

          “Perhaps these revive your memory?  And Admiral Durant, I notice you’re still contriving a way to retrieve that phaser…”

 

          This time Janeway was too reeled to even glance at Durant, who for his part was denying his movement.

 

          Empek focused upon her again.  “Does Commander Chakotay know, Admiral Janeway?  Must I ask him myself?”

 

          She shook her head, staring at the carpet blurring before her through increasingly damp eyes.  “No.”

 

          “What was that?”

 

          “I said no!”  She turned her head up sharply, the harshness in her voice surprising even her.  Her eyes burned.  “You’re right, I did care for Chakotay.  I love him—do you hear it?  I do!  And that’s why *I would never tell him.*  I would never involve him in this.  I couldn’t help what happened on Deep Space Seven, but I could help what came out of my mouth, and I said nothing about any of this!”

 

          Empek studied her for a long moment, then withdrew, seemingly, to Kathryn’s wishful thinking, satisfied with her answer.

 

          She turned and met Durant’s incredulous gaze.  The man seemed to have forgotten his inevitable death for at least the moment.

 

          “Chakotay—you and he…?”

 

          Kathryn shrugged.  “Yes.”

 

          “But *Chakotay?*”

 

          She sneered at him.  “Twice the man you’ll ever be.”  She glanced derisively at his groin.  “And I mean that literally.”

 

          Durant took an angry step towards her, but Empek’s voice interrupted,  “As amusing as this infantile display is, I feel, Admiral Durant, that you and I need to get down to—”

 

          All three simultaneously stiffened to attention, hearing the muffled sound of voices beyond the door.  Kathryn’s heart jumped in her throat, wondering if the authorities had already found the residence.  This wasn’t Durant’s official home—how would they have…?

 

          The door hissed open.

 

“—can’t go in there!”  Tondra’s voice as Chakotay barged past her, practically shoving her against the door frame.

 

          Chakotay fell short a stride, his expression tightening when he took in the three before him, and Tondra’s stress was apparent when she darted in front of him.

 

          “I told him he couldn’t come here, he just let himself in—” she stopped, her eyes resting on Empek.  “Oh, hello, Empek.  I didn’t expect you.”

 

          “Doctor Tondra,” Empek said cordially, inclining his head.  Then he raised his disruptor and vaporized her.

 

          Kathryn flinched, and somewhere she was aware of Durant’s rapid movements somewhere behind her.  She could see Chakotay jerking back away from the screaming doctor who was even now dissolving within the predatory green light of the disruptor.  A split second later, she was gone.

 

          Chakotay stared at the blank spot where she had stood, his expression startled.  Kathryn watched him fearfully.  What was he doing here?

 

          “Mr. Chakotay, how convenient,” Empek began.

 

          Chakotay suddenly seemed to remember himself and raised his phaser.  Empek was too quick.  The green ray of his disruptor sliced through the air and shot the weapon right from Chakotay’s hand.  It was this instant that Durant whipped up from behind his desk and sent a vicious phaser beam Empek’s way.

 

          The large, ashen-haired man staggered briefly from the impact, looking back towards Durant, thus allowing Chakotay just enough time to slam bodily into him.

 

          Janeway barely had time to fumble around for any sort of weapon when she suddenly felt her hair jerked, hard, from behind, sending her off balance.  The tip of Durant’s phaser pressed bruisingly against her neck.

 

          “Move it,” he growled threateningly.

 

          Kathryn intentionally stumbled against him, causing his hand to nudge just enough for the phaser to slip away from her neck.  Her hand darted up and wrenched at his wrist, shoving the phaser and his arm up in the air away from her, giving her enough leeway to twist free and slam him in the crotch, bend down, retrieve his fallen phaser, and blow his head off.

 

          Well, that was the plan.

 

          She stumbled against him, but instead of continuing to shove her forward, he practically lifted her and hauled her with him.

 

          This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.  Kathryn began struggling anew, kicking, twisting, but she wasn’t strong enough anymore.  Captain Janeway could have soundly kicked this man’s ass and then handed it to him.  Now, two years later and thirty, muscle laden pounds lighter, Janeway could only squirm against his grip, lolling her head backwards futilely to try to get a glimpse of Chakotay.

 

          For his part, the former Commander was faring little better.  He pounced on Empek’s back, sending the other man to the floor on his belly, supposedly crushed by his weight.  He only then discovered the fallacy in tackling a man whose strength so surpassed his own.  Empek extended one arm behind him and grasped Chakotay’s arm, wrenching it with an inhuman strength to send the dark haired man straight into the air and slamming to the floor beyond Empek’s head.

 

          Chakotay lay there on a brief moment, dazed, wondering how anyone short of Seven of Nine could possess the strength to throw him from that angle.  He heard Empek’s shuffling and pushed himself over.  The sudden, startled movement proved too much for his bereaved shoulder, and it gave way beneath him with a sickening jolt of pain.  He caught himself on his other arm and shoved himself up, panting and in pain, only to glimpse the other man already looming above him, having not broken a sweat.

 

          Chakotay swung his good arm back for a punch.  Empek blocked it.  Chakotay kicked, found himself shoved back.  He stumbled away from the other man, momentarily at a loss, inconveniently without the use of his right arm.

 

          Empek watched him with cold eyes and cocked his head to the side in a morbid parody of light-heartedness.

 

          “If that business is aside, Commander, I think we have some—”

 

          Chakotay’s hand found a vase on the table behind him, and he tossed it with all his strength at Empek’s head.

 

          The other man ducked away to shield his face just long enough for Chakotay to sprint out the door, darting down the hall and then hovering, staring back towards the door to Durant’s chamber, waiting for Empek to pursue.

 

          But Empek never emerged from the chamber.  He evidently had something more pressing to attend to.

 

                                                                                                *        *        *

 

          Hallway followed hallway.  Janeway had spent little time in this particular hideout of Durant’s, but she was certain she’d remember if it had always been this large and elaborate.

 

          She’d given up struggling, opting to save her strength for a time it might do her some good.  Instead, she chose to be a dead weight for Durant to carry, hoping that might slow him down.  Then again, what did she need to slow him down for?  In all likelihood it would be Empek who emerged intact from the fight, who chased them down the corridor, and not the man she really wanted to see.

 

          Her throat constricted at the image of Chakotay, lying crumpled on the floor.

 

          Durant hustled her now into another room, hurling her blindly to the floor somewhere in front of him.  The impact jarred her, knocking the air out of her, and she’d just staggered to her feet when he punched the lights on.

 

          Ah.  The transporter mat.

 

          Durant kept his phaser trained on her as he circled around the panel and began tapping frantically at keys, glancing up sporadically to monitor her.

 

          Frustration mounted on his face.  His fist slammed against the console.  “Damn.  Come on.  Fucking hell!  The bastard tripped the control panel.”  He looked up at her with a sweat soaked face, his eyes desperate.  “Kathryn—you know this stuff.  You know technology.  Get it to work!  Come over here, now!”

 

          “No,” she said resolutely.

 

          “Goddamn you, do you know what he’s about to do to us?” Durant shouted at her.  “Get over here and fix the goddamn panel!”

 

          “Go fuck yourself!”

 

          Durant raised his phaser and blew out the lighting panel over her head.  Kathryn instinctively ducked, and the room dimmed.

 

          “The panel,” he repeated through gritted teeth, leveling the phaser at her.

 

          “Or you’ll kill me?”  Kathryn asked lightly, suddenly overcome with an intense feeling of déjà vu.

 

          “If I have to!”

 

          “You don’t need me to point out the fallacy in your logic, John,” she  replied calmly.  “You kill me, no one fixes that panel.”

 

          “At least I’ll know I killed you,” he rasped.

 

          “And I’ll die knowing Empek’s about to kill you.  We’re even, in any case,” she returned.

 

          He shook his head, his lips twisted in what was half a sneer and half a grin.  “You’re awful eager to help Empek out, aren’t you, Kathryn?”

 

          “As long as it’s you, John.”

 

          “That surprises me,” Durant continued, his voice adopting a slickness.  “Considering that Empek’s probably right now dashing your Chakotay’s intestines over my oriental carpet.”  Kathryn felt her expression lock up, and Durant sensed the weakness, and played on it.  “Yes, he’s probably butchering him right now.  The man’s an animal.  Do you want to know how he killed your sister?”

 

          “No,” Kathryn couldn’t hear this.  She hadn’t yet read the accident reports, never planned to.  It brought back so much pain…

 

          “Or even your mother?” Durant continued relentlessly.  “Oh, this one was beautiful… he gave me a thorough recount…. Every. Little. Detail.  Would you like to hear it, Kathryn?”

 

          “No!”

 

          “She was at the local promenade when a vendor—”

 

          “Goddamn you!” Janeway screamed, and ripped forward.

 

          The movement was too sudden for Durant to raise his phaser again, and by then she had him on the ground, arms pinned with her knees, her fists slamming into his face.  Over and over and over, she pummeled him, screaming words incoherent to even her own ears.  Durant jerked and dislodged her.  She was too light to slam him down again, and she felt herself falling, falling what seemed like forever until her back hit the floor.  His body followed, crawling atop of hers.  She cried out with sheer frustration, pounding his chest, then ripping into wrenching sobs at her own helplessness.  She could have done this before she met him, before Empek, before the mind games and the loss.  She’d degenerated mentally and only now she fully realized how she’d degenerated physically.

 

          His hands battled her hands, his weight crushing her, and he didn’t even bother to muffle the curses she screamed at him.  His fists slammed into her ribs, into her jaw.  His fingers compressed like talons clawing into her arms, and when his face brushed hers and his teeth suddenly dug into her skin, Kathryn’s voice died.

 

          They were there, locked in place, and his teeth eased up, his lips pressing gently in their place, his tongue snaking out to brush against her wound.  It continued this way several seconds, the transporter room enveloped in a deadly perverse silence, and she realized through a suddenly foggy mind that this was all Durant had wanted all along in a companion—someone he could torture and love, someone who would accept that for warmth and would reciprocate with loyalty and affection.  How revolting.  Yet how frighteningly similar to her.

 

          She began to cry silently, and she let her head loll over to the side, ignoring Durant who seemed to be trying to ignore the rapid approach of the end of his life.

 

          He didn’t attempt to rape her, didn’t even try.  She felt his fingers, sometimes lightly stroking her skin, his lips lightly brushing her cheeks, her neck, but never quite touching.  His forehead rested against hers, his fingers twined briefly with her hair, his thumb touched her collar bone.  He brushed the tears from her cheeks, and somehow this was infinitely more perverse than if he’d raped her.  Bile rose in her throat, a sour feeling permeating her entire body.  She wanted to die.

 

          The transporter room was filled with the tiny chirp of a sensor array.  Durant eased off of her, slipping back and rising to his feet.  His gaze grimly found the door.

 

          “He’s in the corridor now,” he told her, as if she still cared.  He raised his phaser slightly.  “Standard settings might not do anything on this bastard, but I’m betting maximum kill will leave him breathless.  Hopefully for good.”  A pause.  “There’s another phaser in the control panel.  If you want to help…”

 

          Kathryn didn’t move from her position on the floor, feeling dead inside.  She listened to Durant’s breathing grow more and more rapid, the only sensor she needed to judge Empek’s position.

 

          The sickening sound of twisting metal pierced her ears, and white sparks flew from around the door frame.  Durant drew an imperceptible step backwards, his phaser held aloft before him with the uncertainty of a cadet.  As Kathryn watched him, she felt her body rising without her conscious volition.

 

          The door blew in, violently, sending metal shards and sparks streaming into the room.  The force knocked Durant right off his feet and slammed him into a sensor console, his resistance ended before it had truly begun.

 

          Empek emerged amidst the rain of fire, like a dark phantom from some nightmare, and Kathryn drew herself to full height, clutching the phaser from the control panel.  It took Empek a moment to turn his eyes from the prone Durant to notice her, now holding the phaser trained on him.  For the first time since this business had begun, he was at a disadvantage, his entire body and his disruptor facing the wrong direction.

 

          “Syndicate policy, isn’t it, Empek?” she asked dispassionately.  “Kill the witnesses?”

 

          The answer he failed to give confirmed it for her.

 

          “If I kill you now,” Kathryn said slowly, “Before you turn around, then there will simply be others who come for me.”

 

          “True,” Empek replied evenly.

 

          “But then I’ll at least have killed the man who murdered my mother.”  She felt suddenly ferocious.  “It was you, wasn’t it?”

 

          “Not personally,” Empek replied simply.

 

          “But you had a hand in it.”

 

          “Of course.  We all did.”  He glanced down at her phaser briefly.  “You realize, Admiral Janeway, that I’m merely indulging you.  I could kill you even now before you could kill me.”

 

          “You like us to believe that, don’t you?”

 

          “It’s all I can do,” he replied simply.

 

She nodded along with him.  “Kill the witnesses.”

 

          Kathryn turned then and aimed her phaser at Durant.  He only had enough time to register surprise on his face before she felled him with one shot to the chest.

 

          Empek was surprised, too stunned to move for one long moment, long enough for her to train her phaser back on him.

 

          She gripped his eyes with her own, noting coldly,  “You’re the only witness here, Empek.”

 

          He considered her for a long moment.  Then, for perhaps the first time since she’d known him, she discerned something in his expression.  A faint, grudging respect.

 

          “That’s true, Admiral.”  Pointedly, he holstered his disrupter.  Then, diplomatically,  “The Syndicate has been known, upon occasion, to be flexible with our policy.”

 

          “Oh?” she said coolly, thinking he was referring to her.

 

          “If a witness can do us a favor, we’ve been known to, perhaps, forgive the witness their knowledge, provided they agree to keep that knowledge to themselves.”

 

          She realized now he was also talking about himself.

 

          “And sometimes, should one choose to spare a witness, that witness can do a favor, say… lift a contract on one’s head.”

 

          “And ensure the Syndicate is out of the other witness’s life forever?” Janeway demanded in a hard voice.

 

          “That, too,” Empek inclined his head briefly.  “This blood is on your hands, Admiral…  I needn’t be concerned with the ramifications of it.”  He glanced over at Durant’s body, and then spoke,  “Imagine, a scenario…  The corrupt politician embroils his unknowing wife in the more sordid side of politics, going so far as to order that wife kidnapped, forcing her into a publicity stunt against her will.  Word of the politician’s plot leaks out, and he grows desperate and decides to murder his wife to cover his tracks, who, with her Starfleet training, dispatches of him and his female accomplice.”  He rolled his eyes up to the wrecked door frame.  “I trust we can elaborate within that basic framework to explain this wreckage, and a few other complications I will evaluate.”

 

          “And Chakotay?” she demanded.

 

          “*Your* accomplice, Admiral.  Perhaps he discovers he’s being blamed for the wife’s disappearance, and he returns to earth to clear his own name only to be captured by the corrupt politician.  Later he aids the wife in breaking free of her husband’s grasp.  Something along those lines.  I trust you can come up with something.”  A pause, then,  “We are agreed?”

 

          Janeway should have answered in the affirmative, but she found she could not lower her phaser.  It remained steadily trained upon him, locked in place, even now itching to destroy him.  She wasn’t puzzled at her hesitation.  Every memory of this man reminded her of why she had to kill him here, now.  Her mother, her sister, possibly Chakotay.  He arranged it.  Her crewmen.  His fists administered those painful beatings, his mind devised  her terrible isolation.  Durant could never have done this without him; he never could have done anything.  It was all courtesy of Empek.

 

          Her heart began to thump rapidly in her ears.  She could kill him.  She couldn’t let him escape, couldn’t allow him to get away with this.  By God, she couldn’t live with herself if she let him walk away.  She hated this man.  He had wrecked her life.  He had reduced her to this.

 

          Kathryn was aware of movement in the corridor behind Durant.  She glanced just beyond him to see Chakotay.  Her heart flooded with sudden warmth, relief.  He looked frazzled, walking stiffly, his forehead bloodied, but otherwise alright.

 

          He would accept whatever she did.  He would not deny her revenge on this monster, even if it destroyed his own life in the process.

 

          And that was why she could not do this.  If she killed Empek now, the Syndicate would pursue Chakotay until the day he died.  And her.  Everyone she cared about.  She had a chance to end it now, and however bitter it made her feel, she had to take it.

 

          Durant was dead.  That was enough.  That should be enough.  He was truly the one who did this.  Empek was merely the means.  Empek was the weapon Durant wielded, as empty and emotionless as any piece of equipment, and bereft of conscience or soul.  Durant’s malice and Durant’s aims lay behind everything, and he was the one that ultimately had to pay.  And now he had.

 

          Janeway lowered her phaser, still struggling with her own hatred.  She gave Empek a shaky nod, and he returned it.  With one last parting glance at Durant’s prone form, he said,  “Good day, Admiral.”

 

          He turned around and disappeared around the corridor, and the Syndicate walked out of her life.

 

          Chakotay entered the room in his wake, eyeing Kathryn cautiously, glancing at Durant.

 

          “Kathryn… is it over?”

 

          She nodded mutely.

 

          “I’ve spent the last half hour looking for you.  This place is huge, probably has some sort of sensor jamming device…”  His voice trailed off when the phaser slipped from her numb fingers and clattered to the floor.

 

          He approached her slowly, as though she were a wild animal, and she watched him come through weary eyes.

 

          “It’s truly done?” he inquired again.

 

          “It’s finished.”

 

          “How did you find me?” she asked quietly.

 

          He grinned.  “Long story.”

 

          She didn’t press him further.  Her arms crossed over her chest as she stood staring down at Durant with haunted eyes.

 

          Someone else might have congratulated her on the victory, or said something cheerful and entirely wrong.

 

          Chakotay drew closer and gently touched her cheek.  “I’m sorry.”

 

          Not sorry that it was over.  Sorry that it happened.

 

          Kathryn’s eyes began to tear.  Her exhaustion threatened to send her sagging back into his grasp, but then she realized herself, and realized his hand still rested against her cheek.

 

Janeway flinched away from him.  He watched her with mild surprise.

 

          “We have business to take care of.”  Her voice sounded firmer than she felt.  “This mess… among other things…”

 

          “Kathryn…”  He reached towards her.

 

          “Don’t!”

 

He flinched this time.  Her words were harsher than she intended, but she was too exhausted, her emotions too raw to smooth them over.  She avoided his gaze, looking at the ground as she turned around.

 

          “Let’s just get moving.”

 

 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

 

 

          Perhaps this was the point she should have walked into the sunset and lived happily ever after.  But Kathryn found herself in cold, hard reality.  It was no fairy tale.  Life was unforgiving.

 

          The late Jonathan Durant was exposed, tarnished for the quadrant to see, and in the eyes of many, so was Kathryn Janeway.  Their names, linked together for so long, remained tied even after the reality of their union (or a convenient variant of it) was known.  She found herself the target of public resentment.  How far and how thoroughly people had bought into the image of John Durant!  And they all were wrong.  They were suckers, fools, and they hated that the wool had been pulled over their eyes.  Durant was not there to resent, but his wife was.

 

          The looks she received on the street, in headquarters, were judgmental, callous, haughty.  Everyone claimed to have seen Janeway for what she was before the whole Durant fiasco.  "When Voyager returned, I recommended a prison term for Janeway!"  a proud Admiral Hayden proclaimed in an interview.  "I was never fooled by those two scoundrels."  The media hounded her relentlessly, trying to make the public forget that they themselves were Durant’s original heralds.

 

Starfleet did not entirely abandon her. She was not forced out-- the facts were on her side-- but emotions were raw whenever she was present, and thus she was ostracized even without any official decree.

 

          But the scorn didn't hurt her.  It didn't even touch her.  Kathryn was numb and utterly unaware of the life around her.

 

          In the very beginning, she put in a half-hearted effort to restore her life.  She tried to revive her friendship with Admiral Paris.  They were both nervous; their words were diplomatic and tentative.  Owen Paris did not blame her.  He was one of the few who knew the true situation, and he understood her behavior.  He felt for her.  He made friendly overtures and invited her over frequently for stiff dinner parties.  But Kathryn couldn't fight her anxiety around him.  Every time she spoke with him, she wanted nothing more than to escape. 

 

She knew Durant was dead.  He wasn’t around to be enraged at her for speaking with the Admiral.  Empek would not be waiting to pummel her as soon as she returned to her apartment.  There were no consequences now for speaking with Admiral Paris.  It simply made no difference.  She was terrified when she was with the elderly admiral, and she was ashamed that she was still afraid, because every rational part of her being decried herself a fool for fearing a dead man.    It was absurd.  It was laughable.  And although she recognized the absurdity of it, the terrible fear was very much real and undeniable.  She avoided Owen Paris.  She could always come up with some pretense to beg off his invitations.

 

Her avoidance of Owen Paris quickly extended to his relatives.  She begged off frequent invitations from Paris and Torres.  Paris seemed to get the message.  Unfortunately, Torres was slightly more stubborn than the rest.  She'd barge in uninvited and unexpected to check up on Janeway a few times a week, and snap at her as though she were some errant child if she felt Kathryn wasn't taking care of herself.  Janeway might have been touched at one time, or she might have snapped back, if only she'd had the energy.  It was now simply an inconvenience.

 

          And Chakotay.  She avoided Chakotay like the devil himself.  Just sitting in the same room with him choked her up with emotions, emotions that shamed her now that she knew they would never be reciprocated.  He was with Seven again, and probably for good this time.  His rebuff of her affections on the shuttle... It still mortified her to think of it.  She tried not to.  It was easier to forget him if she never thought of him, and it was easier not to think of him if she never saw him.

 

          He pressed himself on her very frequently early on, fussing over whether she was taking care of herself, urging her to see a counselor.  She tried eating, even remembered it upon occasion.  Kathryn tried the counselor, too.  The man was infuriating and she stormed out after two sessions, but she didn't tell Chakotay.  Why worry him needlessly? Especially now that he had Seven to focus his attentions upon.  He was probably only focusing on her out of some sense of obligation, or perhaps some benign pity.  Either way, she would have none of it.  Chakotay had freed her from Durant, and now Kathryn resolved to free Chakotay from her.  Having Chakotay tied to her out of pity was worse than not having Chakotay at all. 

 

She grew cold around him.  She did not return transmissions, she did not accept or extend invitations.  He seemed baffled, and not a little hurt by her actions, but what else could she do?  She couldn't be around him, couldn't bear to feel this way knowing he loved Seven.  She'd rather forget about him than punish herself with the repeated sight of the love she'd destroyed.

 

          Kathryn tried to distract herself from these depressing thoughts by reminding herself that she was free, *truly free* for the first time in a decade.  The first night, after all the mess had died down, when she found herself alone in her apartment, she'd thrown herself out into the world, exultant, feeling the wind against her cheeks and the streets alive all around her.  She basked in the freedom as the night wore on and until the sky brightened with early morning, feeling herself tremble with a myriad of excitement and anxiety every time she reflected, yet again, that there were no consequences for this.  No curfew, no angry Empek waiting to beat the living shit out of her.  It should have made her happy.  When she returned to her apartment, however, she felt consumed by a deep emptiness that did not leave her the next day.

 

          Freedom.  It meant nothing.  It was worthless.  She spent most days and nights staring at the wall of her apartment, unthinking, too exhausted to do anything but sit there.  Sometimes she'd get the energy to turn on the viewer.  But the silence was full enough without the buzz of irrelevant noise from the small screen.  Sometimes her attention was caught by a disparaging news report about herself.  These she’d watch with a sort of masochistic satisfaction, relishing every hateful word of slander about her, disgusted by the sight of her own ghastly image on the view screen.

 

          Kathryn finally took leave from active duty.  It relieved her coworkers to be rid of her, she was unsurprised to notice.  It relieved her as well.  Away from her duties as an officer, she had twelve more hours to sit in her apartment staring listlessly at the wall, marveling at how pathetic she'd become.  Her thoughts were scattered and increasingly bizarre.  In the unstructured chaos of her new life, she never exactly thought of her days with Durant with fondness, but sometimes she almost missed them.  At least under Durant's control she'd had her hatred to propel her through the day.  At least then she had some structure and direction to her life, rather than this drift less sleepwalk through a foggy twilight.  At least then she could fool herself into thinking only circumstances stood between Chakotay and her, and not a genuine lack of affection.  

 

More often than not, Kathryn simply wished she'd perished in the Delta Quadrant.

 

          It was perhaps four months before Kathryn dragged herself from the apartment, compelled by some intellectual if not emotional knowledge that she could not remain hidden away all day.  It surprised her that very few people noticed her as she passed them on the street.  It was one thing to see Janeway on a view screen, but now that she hadn't been in the news a few months, she could disappear like any other woman into the crowds.  The anonymity brought an incredible sense of relief.

 

          During the fist of her outings, it was just the alcohol she relished.  Kathryn had never been much of a drinker.  Even the few jaunts she had during her time with Durant had failed to truly register as more than a temporary escape.  Now, she found something more.  When she drank excessively night after night, week after week, the hangovers lessened, the periods of horrible lucidity blurred.  The alcohol became a comfortable, swollen blanket, stifling her from the world, filling the distance between her emotions and her shredded life.  She forgot the pain, blurred the memories.  It enveloped her intellect in the same sluggishness that weighed down her spirit, and though it did not feel good, the important thing was-- it did not feel bad.

 

          And then she allowed a man to buy her a drink.  She didn't get a good look at his features; she couldn't recall his face once his dark head turned away from her.  But that night had found her spread cross his bed, and he wasn't gentle enough to break her long period of celibacy without pain.  It didn’t last very long, just a few blind minutes as she lay there crushed beneath him, hearing him grunt in her ear.

 

          She expected to feel ashamed when she returned to her apartment, but she felt nothing.  It burned between her legs, and for some reason, her ribs were bruised.  She knew the sick feeling as she stood beneath the rumbling sonic shower was entirely unconnected with her one night stand.

 

          A few days passed before she went home with another man.  And then another.  Then more.  It just kept going.  Kathryn could never remember faces; she'd stare at them through blurry eyes, trying to burn their features into her memory, but her mind was blank the next day.  She never remembered the physical sensations either.  She might have climaxed, she might not have.  She'd feel the tell tale bruising of sex the next morning, but that was the only physical sign of her activity.  She would never sleep with them, she'd never allow them to sleep with her.  Just sex, then departure.  It continued that way for an interminable period of time until one night she was with a man in her apartment, and she looked up into his face in the middle of the sex.

 

          Durant's eyes were unfocused on her face, sweat trickling down his forehead and flushed cheeks as he concentrated on thrusting into her.

 

          A scream ripped from her lips, and Kathryn fought wildly at the man's grip on her.  She heard him snarl at her to shut her mouth as she tried to crawl away from him, pinned in place by a bruising grip on her shoulder.  A heavy hand clamped over her mouth, muffling her screams, a hand not thrown off by the thrashing of her head.  He held her still until he emptied himself into her, and she was sobbing hysterically by then, recoiling and curling into a ball as soon as he slid his sweaty weight from her body.

 

          She crouched there a few moments, weeping, trembling, her hands clenched convulsively across her bare knees as she heard him dressing.  It took her an effort to look at him through her tears, and she saw the face of a man that was not Durant gazing back at her with irritation.  "The hell's your problem, lady?" he asked as he yanked on his pants.

 

          Kathryn had no words; her tongue felt like a thick mass, heavy in her mouth.  Her surprise blotted her thoughts.  She sat there numbly as he left her apartment.  Her hand trembled violently as it found its way between her legs, feeling the sticky, nauseating fluid there, and then her body was wracked anew with painful sobs.

 

          Through blind anguish, she rushed into the sonic shower, then ran a bath, back into the sonic shower.  She burned the sheets in a pile on the floor of her apartment, let out a cry of terror when the smoke alarm sounded.  Fresh tears leaked from her eyes, and she reached with blind fury into a drawer and shot the smoke alarm from the wall.  It hit the floor of the apartment with a thwap, sputtering little yellow sparks.  Kathryn sank to the ground, her hands clamped over her face, weeping piteously.  She was still that way when B'Elanna found her.

 

          The half-Klingon spoke words she didn't listen to; Kathryn didn't want to hear anything.  The other woman urged her to calm down.  After blurs of B’Elanna’s soft voice, strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her up and over to the sofa.  A tank top was eased over her head to cover her body, a garment once tight, now sagging over her frame.  Hands eased her down onto her side, and she was still weeping when a blanket was tucked around her body.  A soft palm brushed over and over again, easing her hair back from her forehead, pressed a glass of water to her lips.  Kathryn wasn't aware of the point when B'Elanna's hand became Chakotay's, but he ended up being the one she leaned against during one of her trips to the lavatory.

 

 

He released her just outside the door, and she nearly stumbled inside, clutching her balance on the sink, hearing the door slide shut behind her with a soft hiss.  She pressed the button and activated the faucet, simply watching the clear water rush into the black drain for an interminable period of time before she turned it off.  When she looked up and saw herself in the mirror, she was struck with a sudden jolt of shock.

 

          She looked like a corpse.  Kathryn turned her head this way, that, her mouth dry, gazing in morbid fascination at the way her head looked like little more than a skull with some gray skin and lank hair plastered over it.  Her eyes, dark and lifeless, the shadows beneath them dark like hollows.  Eyes red and lifeless.  Her lips were pale and thin, and the entire impression of her appearance was one of extreme fragility.  A woman on the verge of shattering.

 

          She raised a shaky hand to finger her jutting cheekbone, and realized that, although she'd gazed in the mirror many times recently, this was the first time she'd actually seen anyone looking back at her.

 

          Kathryn was struck with the horrified realization that she did look like a victim.  The woman in the mirror looked weak, frightened, vulnerable.  She'd wondered on her few jaunts under Durant, and now her frequent ones on her own, why she seemed to draw the attention of predators, and now she knew why.  They looked at her and they saw someone too frightened, too depressed, too ashamed to defend herself.

 

          And they were right.

 

          The marble sink felt cold against her palms as she leaned against it.  She reached out to touch the control of the sink, to flip on the clear stream of water again, but stopped herself.  To what?  Watch the water flow into the drain for a few minutes more?  How long had she done that already?

 

          When Kathryn walked out of the lavatory and saw a concerned Chakotay waiting for her, her face crumpled.  He drew her towards him, she buried her head against his chest.  She shook with tears, even as she was horrified by the feel of her own bony form trembling as weakly as a sick child.  Gods, but she was sick.  She was dying.

 

          A few minutes and they were sitting together on the couch, Chakotay sadly fingering a bruise staining her pale arm.  A question flickered through her mind, momentary confused at how she'd come by the mark.  The faint imprint of fingers...  Oh God.

 

          Kathryn covered her face again, hiding herself from Chakotay's gaze as she said,  "I don't know what's wrong with me.  I just can't stop… with it."

 

          He nodded slowly.  He seemed to understand what she was saying, and she felt a new stab of shame at the knowledge.  Kathryn's fingers tightened around her face, and his hand stroked lightly over her back.

 

          "Listen to me, Kathryn," his voice was soft and gentle.  "The counselor-- have you been seeing him?"

 

          "No," she replied harshly, suddenly defensive.  Her hands slipped from her face and balled into tight fists.  "I hate that man.  I'm not going back to him."

 

          "Fine," Chakotay said appealingly, and she didn't want to meet his gaze.  "No one is going to force you to go back to him.  You should choose someone you feel comfortable with."  When she remained silent, his hand stopped mid-stroke, resting heavily on her back.  "Kathryn, you are going to see a counselor, aren't you?"

 

          "I guess I have to now."  Her voice sounded more bitter than she intended.

 

          "Kathryn," Chakotay said to her quietly.  "What you've been through-- it would do this to anyone.  You're hurting."

 

          She laughed harshly at that.  "We both know the more apt word would be 'whoring'."

 

          "No," he said firmly, and when she looked away, he touched her chin lightly with his fingers, but did not turn her head.  "No, you're hurting.  You saw your world stolen from you, not once, but twice.  You were forced into marriage with a man intent on using you for his own ambitions.  You lost your family, your independence.  And he did everything he could to prevent you from regaining that.  Don't you see, Kathryn?  You were strong, you fought him, but it took a toll on you.  He made you loathe yourself.  You're not eating, you don’t look like you’re sleeping, and what you've been doing with these men--"

 

          "Please don't talk about that, Chakotay," Kathryn pleaded in a small voice.  She didn't want him to think about that; she couldn't bear it if he gave more thought to that.  He must already think she was so--

 

          "He hurt you.  He hurt your perceptions of the world, and he hurt your perceptions of yourself.  I think, somewhere in there, you feel you deserved what he did to you; I think somehow he managed to cut you that deeply.  And you act upon it.  He's not here to harm you anymore, he can't humiliate you.  But you’re ashamed, and you’ve been doing his job for him...  You’ve been hurting yourself.”

 

          Kathryn said nothing when he paused, a weighty silence hanging between them as tears streaked down her cheeks.

 

          His voice continued softly,  "Kathryn, it's a compulsion, like any other.  It's not the end of the galaxy, it doesn't make you a bad person.  You can work through it.”  His hand paused a moment, then tentatively ran his fingers down her back.  “*We* can work through it."

 

          Kathryn suddenly felt herself go cold.  His words, so easy before, unraveling her psyche the way she hadn't yet managed to...

 

Up until that word, that 'we'.  We.

 

          There was no ‘we’.  If there was, it existed only in her memory.  Chakotay and Seven.  That was ‘we’.  Chakotay and Kathryn?  Nothing.  Unravel the mess in her head with him?  How could she, when he was the core of so much of that pain?  She couldn't do this.  She couldn't.

 

          This was a mistake.  What was the point of this?  Words.  Words had no power.  It was hopeless.

 

          "Actually…  I think I'll be fine."  Her voice sounded slightly strained as she rose to her feet.  Inside, she felt glacial as she met Chakotay's incredulous eyes with her own.  "I'm glad we had this talk, Commander.  I'll certainly take your words into advisement."

 

          Janeway started to turn from him, but he suddenly lanced from the couch and grasped her arm.  "Why are you doing this now, Kathryn?" he asked intently, his voice colored with distress.  "What happened?  Why are you shutting down on me?"

 

          She met his stare without discernible expression.  Her heart felt strangely cold.  "I've heard your advice, Chakotay, and now I'm tired.  I'll be fine, and I'd appreciate it if I could have my apartment to myself for a while."

 

          Chakotay stared at her through dark, dismayed eyes as she slowly extricated her arm from his grip.

 

          "Don't do this, Kathryn."  There was a note of pleading in his voice.

 

          A smile crossed Kathryn's face.  It didn't touch her eyes.  It felt plaster, as though someone had pulled up the corners of her lips with puppet strings.  "Thank you for stopping by, Chakotay.  Excuse me.  I think I'm going to go to bed."

 

          Chakotay stood there a beat, staring at her helplessly.  She waited expectantly until his shoulders sagged, and he turned with resignation towards the door.  "If that's the way you want it, there's nothing I can do, Kathryn."

 

          Kathryn watched him walk towards the door.  "Thanks again for visiting."  Her voice sounded hollow.  As the door slid open, she gave in to a sudden, malicious impulse and added spitefully,  "And give my regards to Seven of Nine."

 

          He paused in the doorway, his back to her, large shoulders drawing up like an alert bear.  Kathryn immediately regretted her words and wished she could take them back.  She spun around to bolt out of sight before he could deride her for them, but Chakotay whipped around, arresting her movement with his intent gaze.

 

          "Seven?  What do you mean, Kathryn?"

 

          Kathryn fumbled for words, opening and closing her mouth a split second before saying in a disjointed tone,  "Look-- Chakotay, I-- don't bother.  I know.  It's okay.  I'm happy for you," the smile felt fake on her lips, and her voice rang false.  "Really."

 

          "What are you talking about?" Chakotay's voice sounded incredulous.

 

          "I know you're with Seven, " she explained.  She flashed him a false, uneasy grin.  "It's okay, I saw you two together—on the shuttle.  But it’s fine, I won't…"

 

          Her voice trailed off as his expression came alive before her eyes.

 

"Kathryn," Chakotay sputtered, the white-toothed grin playing across his handsome face one of genuine amusement.  "Seven of Nine's with the Doctor."

 

          There was a beat of silence.   Janeway stared at him dumbly.  Then,  "What?"

 

          "She goes by Annika Hansen now," Chakotay elaborated, taking a step from the doorway back into the room, gaining confidence.  "She's been involved with the Doctor over a year now, and they're getting married next February.  She wanted to invite you-- she misses you-- but she wasn’t sure how to go about it.  She wanted my blessing for the match.  That's all we were talking about."

 

          That was all.

 

          Thoughts flew through Kathryn's mind, puzzling out his words, her mind flashing back to the embrace she witnessed and his shattering words—he’d ‘settle the matter’ with her.  She had assumed he intended to reveal to her his affection for Seven.  But all this time, it was just about Seven’s wedding.  Seven of Nine’s goddamn wedding.  Chakotay didn’t love Seven.  Nothing was there between them!  That meant…

 

A brief moment of hope flooded through her before she suddenly realized the real truth with sickening clarity.  And she felt doubly humiliated now. 

 

          His rebuff had nothing to do with Seven. He'd rejected her out of genuine disinterest, not out of affection for Seven.  He simply didn’t want to be with her!  He could that never have occurred to her?  Was she an imbecile, or simply that arrogant that she couldn’t possibly have conceived of that reason?

 

Stupid.  How egotistical to assume his only reason for rejecting her was founded in love for another woman.  It wasn't that Chakotay loved another woman, it was just that he didn't love her.

 

          "I'm sorry," the words flew out of her mouth as her shame grew.  She couldn't meet his eyes.  She felt sick.  "It was presumptuous of me to assume you had to be involved with someone else.  When I—approached you--  I understand completely… In your place, I wouldn't either--"  The words were too hard for her, and she turned away sharply, her eye stinging.  Chakotay was at her side quickly, turning her to face him.

 

          "Is that what this is about?"  He asked incredulously.  "The shuttle?"

 

          Her laugh was false and brought tears to her eyes.  "I know, you don't have to explain, now please go--"

 

          "Kathryn," his warm palm against her cheek tilted her face back towards his.  "When I said I didn’t think the time was right, it wasn’t a... reflection of my feelings for you."

 

          Her brow furrowed in confusion.  "Then, what-- I don't understand..."

 

          "Kathryn," Chakotay's voice was soft.  "Look at yourself, look at--"

 

          Her lips twitched with new pain.  "Of course.  I know... I look hideous --"

 

          "No," Chakotay said firmly, momentarily tempted to make a joke about her repeatedly twisting his words into disparaging remarks, but instinctively knowing this was too fragile a moment for anything but the utmost delicacy.  "I'm not talking about looks.  You’re beautiful, you always have been.  I'm talking about...  It’s that you look like a woman who is in pain.  This apartment, this..."  he fingered the bruise on her arm sadly.  "You've been through something traumatic.  I've waited for you nearly a decade; I can't take advantage of you when you're still vulnerable.  That was my belief in the shuttle, that is my belief now.  Kathryn, I love you.  You know that.  I will never stop loving you.   And before you and I ever take this friendship to another level, I want to know that you are entirely sure of yourself, that you won't later have cause to regret becoming involved with me.  I don’t want to hurt you."

 

          He paused, taking a steadying breath, before continuing,  "And Kathryn, even if, when everything is clear for you again, you decide you'd rather be with someone else--"

 

          "I'd never want that," Kathryn cut in with sudden emotion.

 

          "But even if you did," Chakotay said firmly, holding her eyes,  "I would respect your wishes, and I would never stop caring for you.  I don't want you to feel pressure about this, about me.  I will always be here.  Right by your side."

 

          *Like the last time?* Janeway thought sourly, her mind flashing to those months after their arrival in the Alpha Quadrant, the months Durant had slowly entangled her in his web while Chakotay danced around the galaxy with Seven.

 

          But that wasn't fair, and she knew it.

 

          “Can you let me help you, Kathryn?  Can you trust in me?”

 

          Swallowing hard, Janeway felt herself nod.

 

          His palm, soft against her cheek.

 

          “Can you trust in yourself?”

 

          She found she couldn’t answer that.

 

*        *        *

 

          The worst was over, but the road ahead was not without difficulty.  Kathryn butted heads with two different counselors before she found one that inexplicably managed to worm her way into Kathryn’s trust.

 

She spent hours with Chakotay every day, often sleeping over in his apartment (all innocent, of course) out of a strange unease attached to her own.

 

          Chakotay was concerned at first at Kathryn’s constant need for his company.  He certainly didn’t mind being around her for so much of his time, on some level was even gratified for it, but he wasn’t certain this was beneficial for her.  He found himself revisiting old fears that he might be harming more than helping Kathryn by letting her develop this dependence on him, and a few concerned hails to the counselor to communicate his concerns quickly found him expressing his own fears to the counselor, his own doubts about his ability to help her.  He learned to differentiate between Kathryn’s situation and his mishaps with Seven, the differences between allowing dependence in a fully self-aware adult who had been shattered, and dependence in an emotional adolescent who hadn’t known her own identity in the first place, who needed someone to help define her.

 

          They attended the wedding of Doctor “Joe” (they’d both snickered privately at his choice of name), and Annika Hansen.  Kathryn had been unusually tense before the occasion, fearing that she’d be subjected to the same scorn regarding the Durant fiasco at the hands of the crew she cared about, as she had at the hands of the general public.  However, when they arrived at the wedding, she was confronted with nothing but good will and affection, a crew—a family—who cared about her too much and held too much loyalty for her to believe the slander, or to trust that the scandal was actually the real story.

 

          Kathryn didn’t have to explain herself to them.  They accepted her.  They smiled knowingly when she arrived with Chakotay, and when she left the wedding, she was buzzing with happiness and something like elation, Chakotay knew for sure then that things were going to sort out for Kathryn after all.

 

          Shortly after that, she grew restless.  She wanted her space.  When she insisted on going to a science conference and balked at his idea of accompanying her, he felt reassured rather than rebuffed.  Each instance where her independence reasserted itself raised his confidence in her a notch more, and when she finally stated her desire to approach something more than friendship again, he had no fears of a dire outcome.

 

          It started slowly.  Dinners grew slightly more intimate, touches slightly more personal.  Then they kissed, and slowly became accustomed to the higher level of intimacy.  They touched freely, learning each other’s bodies, but still refraining from that final step.

 

          Chakotay would see a mischievous spark in Kathryn’s eyes sometimes, and he had a creeping feeling that she was planning something special.  When the next Voyager reunion approached, he realized that he had been right.

 

*        *        *

 

          “We were originally planning to wait,” Harry Kim was saying, standing on the podium before the Voyager crew in the elaborately decorated banquet hall.  His eyes found Janeway and Chakotay again, seated towards the front of the stage, the only two in the audience not expressing some show of pleasure or anticipation.  Harry grinned at them, and he saw the two exchange puzzled glances, as though realizing there was something the rest knew that they hadn’t caught on to yet.

 

          “We were planning to wait until the fifth reunion to give you two this.  It seemed more symbolic, somehow, a much more special occasion,” Kim said lightly.  “But after giving it some thought, reunion number four seemed pretty damn good after all.”  He winked at Janeway.  “You always liked things early, Captain.”

 

          Janeway felt herself smile, barely noticing the slip.  Technically, she was not a captain.  But she’d long since realized that the Voyager crew would always think of her that way.  Their Captain.

 

          “Harry!” Janeway heard Torres call out from the audience, somewhere behind her.  “Just give it to them!”

 

          Laughter filtered through the ranks, and Janeway felt a pleasant flutter of anticipation.  Chakotay’s hand squeezed hers.

 

          Harry grinned sheepishly, inclined his head towards Torres.  “Yes, ma’am.”  He drew back a step, raising his eyebrows.  “You two ready for this?”

 

          At the urging of the crewmembers around them, Janeway and Chakotay rose to their feet.

 

          “Ready as we’ll ever be, Harry,” Janeway said confidently.

 

          Kim shrugged, tapped his communicator, and called,  “Energize!”

 

          At Janeway’s feet materialized a book.  She bent down and picked it up, found herself looking at a hardcopy text of Starfleet Regulations.

 

          “Oh,” Janeway said, trying to muster some enthusiasm in her voice, feeling the eyes of the crew upon her.  “Starfleet Regulations.  This is… wonderful.”

 

          When more laughter echoed around her, she knew she’d been had.  Harry was smiling fondly again.

 

          “All right, but seriously this time,”  He tapped his communicator again and called for transport.

 

          Just a few feet before Janeway and Chakotay, now dominating half the room, materialized a powerful, sleek little vessel.  Kathryn stared at it in shock for a long moment, wondering first how they’d afforded the credits to purchase something like this, second, how they’d acquired the credits to transport something this size, and then feeling herself break out into a delighted grin.

 

          “My God,” Chakotay murmured, stepping out from beside her to tentatively approach the ship.  “This is… for us?”

 

          “Joint ownership,” Harry Kim replied, stepping out from behind the podium and jumping down to join him on the floor.  He approached Kathryn then, and smiled knowingly at the rest of the crew as he added,  “We thought you two might be… friendly enough to share it.”  His dark eyes found his former captain’s.  “Do you approve?”

 

          Janeway, still gazing fondly at the gift, could only nod in wonderment.  Then, tears in her eyes, she reached out and pulled Harry into an embrace.  “Thank you!”

 

          The former crew again broke into applause, and Kathryn drew back from Harry and added amidst the racket,  “Thank you all!”

 

          She felt Chakotay approach beside her, extending his own thanks, slapping Harry’s back.  As his warm presence touched her side, and the love and affection of the former crew around her penetrated her awareness, Kathryn knew this would be one of the happiest moments of her life.  All those dark years were over, all her work to save her crew paying off in kind.  She smiled up at Chakotay, and he returned it with equal warmth.  With love.  Her hand found his, and she knew finally that nothing would tear them apart.

 

          A few minutes found them staring at the shuttle together, left to themselves to marvel at the gift.

 

          “It’s truly incredible of them,” Chakotay said, awed.

 

          “It is,” Kathryn replied.  Then, she added a little darkly,  “But it interferes with my plans.”

 

          “Your plans?” Chakotay asked, looking at her with a grin.  “And what were they?”

 

          Kathryn returned his grin with a beautiful one of her own, and glanced coyly back to the shuttle.  “I reserved us a hotel room.  In Italy.  The very same one from that night.”

 

          Chakotay caught his breath.

 

          “Kathryn,” he began,  “If that’s the issue, you know I am more than willing to come back for this ship tomorrow—“

 

          Her finger touched his lips, stilling his words.  Her eyes glittered warmly into his, and her grin sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine.

 

          “No…”  Kathryn said in a husky voice.  “I just mean, with a private space of our own, I don’t see why we should wait until we’re in Italy.”

 

*        *        *

 

          He was holding her later in the shuttle, having christened it with her twice already that evening, and probably not for the last time.  She drew out of his arms, absently holding a glass of champagne, marveling at the interior of the vessel.  The crew of Voyager had banded their credits together to buy this for them, and they’d certainly gone all out.  Even Tom Paris’s vessel paled in comparison.

 

          Kathryn walked to the conn and admired the shiny control panel, running her hand across the smooth surface.

 

          “This is really an incredible ship,” she said to Chakotay, her eyes flickering around the interior.  “Chakotay, I could honestly see us living here long-term.”

 

          Chakotay cocked an eyebrow at her, approaching the front and lowering himself into the chair across from her.  He tugged at her hand to urge her into his lap.  “You sound like you have a plan,” he said softly.  “Something I should know about?”

 

          Kathryn gazed searchingly into his eyes, raising her hand to caress his cheek.  “Would it really be so bad, Chakotay?  If we just left?  If I returned to Starfleet, I would be stuck behind a desk, and as for you, I know there are more stimulating things out there for a paleontologist than teaching.”  She smiled, and he found himself returning it.  “Think of everything out there for us to explore…”

 

          He reached up and ran his fingers through her hair, twirling a few locks absently between his fingers.  “I’m game for it if you are,” he said with a grin.  “But where were you thinking of heading?  Are we going to venture around Federation space, or—“

 

          “No,” Kathryn said, her eyes alive with the possibilities.  “I was actually thinking we could go back to the Delta Quadrant.”

 

          “The Delta Quadrant?” Chakotay exclaimed.  It was amazing that after all these years, and especially the past intimate months, she still managed to surprise him.  “Why would you want to go back there?  You hated the Delta Quadrant.”

 

          “I hated that I’d stranded my crew there,” she admitted.  “I hated that I couldn’t rest until I returned all of you home.”  She looked down at the console before her.  “But I never really had a chance to see it.  Not as an explorer.”  Her eyes returned to his.  “And what are we leaving behind?  The crew can get by without us now, and your sister would understand… There’s a whole new frontier to explore out there.”  Kathryn shifted on his lap to face him completely now.  “What do you say?”

 

          Chakotay was still reeling in surprise.  He’d never even considered returning the Delta Quadrant, had never thought of it in simple terms of exploration.  It had been a challenge for them to overcome, once, a long time ago on Voyager.  But it had never been merely an object of fascination.  The possibilities intrigued him.

 

          “How would we get there?” he asked her.

 

          Janeway shrugged.  “Same way we returned, I suppose.”

 

          He frowned.  “I don’t know if I approve of you traveling through time again—“

 

          She hit his chest, and he broke into a grin.  “No, you doofus,” Kathryn laughed.  “I thought we could simply set a course for the Delta Quadrant, and have some adventures along the way.”  She paused a moment.  “Well?  Are you with me?”

 

          “I suppose I’m your man, Captain,” Chakotay replied, drawing her in for a kiss.

 

          She reached out and pressed her fingers over his lips, blocking the kiss for a moment.  Her blue eyes sparkled meaningfully into his.  “No Captain.  No Commander.  No rank.  Just you and me.  Chakotay and Kathryn.”

 

          Chakotay smiled again.  “Then I suppose I’m your man, Kathryn.”

 

          He kissed her this time, and she pulled back a few millimeters to grin against his lips.

 

          “And don’t you ever forget it, Mister.”

 

THE END