EMANCIPATION PROCLAMATION

Acknowledgements to Jim Wright's Delta Blues site, Jeri Taylor's Mosaic, Christie Golden's preview of Homecoming, and last, but certainly not least, Shayenne, the best beta reader on this planet or any other. Note: The timeline in this story differs from canon (it IS fanfic, after all), but it's my story, and I'm sticking to it!

As soon as Neelix handed her the two PADDs, Janeway retreated to the privacy of her ready room. A quick glance told her that one was from Mark, and the other from Admiral Paris. A tremor passed through her - why was Mark writing, and not her mother or sister? Surmising that the letter from the admiral was probably Starfleet oriented, she tossed it toward the huge pile of reports awaiting her attention, in favor of reading the one from her fiancé first. For just this once, Starfleet could take a backseat to her personal life.

Mark's first sentence assured Kathryn that her mother and sister were fine, and she breathed a sigh of relief. In fact, they were more than just fine. Her mother was actually engaged to a neighboring widower Kathryn had known all her life, just like she had known Mark. And her sister, Phoebe, was blossoming with her first child, having married two years before. It was a bittersweet joy, knowing that they were both alive and well, and going on with their lives. They had all become well versed in the convoluted process of grieving and moving on, back when Kathryn's father died almost twenty years ago. But it was a multi-sided emotional cube to her now. While being glad their lives were moving forward, it also increased the emptiness she felt, stuck here, her own life pretty much in limbo.

The rest of Mark's letter was no surprise. He too had eventually moved on, knowing that she would never want him stay in the past. It was true, she wouldn't. But somehow, it was as though some elemental connection with home was severed with the announcement of Mark's marriage. One of his comments almost made her laugh. Typical male - he figured she and this "Carla" would like each other. "I'll bet," she muttered out loud.

Rising, she strode to her replicator for a fresh cup of coffee. At least here was a constant. A hot bath and cup of black coffee could cure just about all the ills of the universe - just about. All except for the loneliness that ensnared her like a sticky web in the moments between the last report she read at night and when she actually fell asleep. And except for the ache in her heart or the emptiness of her arms or the cry of her soul, or the need for…

The need for what? A companion. A soul mate. A life partner. Someone to love and be loved by. Sometimes the longing knifed through her, sharp gouges of white hot pain that left her gasping. With a sigh, Janeway leaned her head against the viewport. It simply wasn't possible out here. For all the distance from Earth, this was still a Starfleet vessel, and it ran according to Starfleet rules and regs. Protocol did not allow for a relationship between a superior officer and a subordinate, and there were good reasons for it. At least, they seemed like good reasons. Most of the time.

Just like so many things in life, there were two sides to this coin. Janeway could clearly see how important such protocols were, especially in a situation like Voyager's. What if the relationship didn't work out? There was no place for one of the parties to transfer to. And how would the crew feel about having a captain in a relationship with a fellow crewmember? Yet, on the other hand, the very nature of Voyager's unique situation, so far from home, meant that if she didn't have a relationship with someone onboard, someone under her command, what was there for her? Nothing but transient relationships with passing aliens, and that just wasn't her style.

So where did that leave her? She had already resigned herself to Mark's moving on, in fact, had already emotionally moved on herself. Having known him for so long, she would always love him, but she was no longer "in love" with him - hadn't been for a very long time now. No, those feelings had withered and died like a neglected plant deprived of water and sunshine. Well, not so much died, but slid away. About three feet to her left.

Chakotay. A shiver coursed through her. The name was mysterious, exotic, like the man himself. So open, and yet an enigma. The first time he beamed aboard Voyager back at the Caretaker's array, it had taken her about ten seconds to realize that there was much, much more to the Maquis rebel, former Starfleet officer, than his security file indicated. Here was a man of passion, a man of integrity. There was no one else that she knew of who possessed the personal skill and patience to meld into one strong force the two very disparate crews that had begun this strange journey. Even Tuvok had agreed with her decision to ask Chakotay to become her first officer.

And with that one move, they were both sentenced to remain no more than a command team and friends for the duration of their journey. Enslaved to the rules and regulations of an organization still about sixty thousand light years away.

Sighing again, she pushed away from the viewport. How many of those sleepless hours had she pondered this, even searched the database for some loophole that she already knew wasn't there? Just because Chakotay was one of the finest men she'd ever met, just because sitting next to him day after day was sweet torment, just because her dreams of him left her aching and tangled in sweat-soaked sheets - none of those reasons changed a thing.

The scientist in her clicked into gear. There were twenty-four hours in a day, and sixty minutes in an hour. And sixty seconds in each one of those minutes, so that made one thousand, four hundred and forty minutes or eighty-six thousand, four hundred seconds in each and every day. They had been out here in the Delta Quadrant for about three and half years now, which totaled approximately one thousand two hundred and seventy-seven days. If all the seconds, and the occasional - but rare - minutes she had studied Chakotay were linked together, how long would they add up to? Probably days, perhaps even months.

Her eyes slid shut. So perfectly could she picture his face in her head that in her dreams, her subconscious mind had no trouble exactly reproducing the sweep of his tattoo, the bump on his nose, the planes of his cheekbones. Even in sleep, there was no release, no escape for her. How often had her fingers mentally traced those beautifully shaped lips? It was getting so that Maestro da Vinci just laughed at her every time she settled herself in his studio, charcoal pencil in hand. No matter what she started drawing, it always ended up being Chakotay's face. The big Italian hologram would just shake his head and add it to the stack in the corner.

When had all those moments coalesced together, the cells of time evolving her feelings from respect to admiration to friendship, then affection, and finally love? When had she stopped thinking of him as just her first officer, but her friend, and more - the very keeper of her heart?

She laughed shortly at the notion of sharing even friendship with her original first officer, Cavit. While it was sad that the man had died when the Caretaker pulled Voyager into the Delta Quadrant, as first officer, in all honesty, he was no loss to her or the ship. Cavit had been one of those by-the-book, inside-the-box thinkers, and he would never - could never - have given her the wisdom, support and care that she felt daily from Chakotay.

The wonderful declaration he had given her a year and a half ago on New Earth floated like a beautiful, precious lily on the sea of her memories. Even now, she had to swallow against the tears that threatened. Would it have been better not to know how Chakotay felt, that he returned her feelings? Would it have been better to have grabbed everything then, to at least have shored up some memories to comfort her in her quarters at night in that bed far too big for just one person? Real memories of passion unleashed, a heated consummation of every fantasy, every desire, as opposed to the cold emptiness of her imagination and dreams. A shudder rippled through her and she took a shaky breath. No. No. Deep inside, she knew to have experienced that kind of love with Chakotay and then have it ripped away from her would have been like having a limb torn from her body. At times, she wished the whole episode had never happened, that they had never been stranded together like that, and at other times, when the darkness pressed in on her soul, and the chains of loneliness tightened to squeeze the very life out of her, she traitorously wished Tuvok had never come back to rescue them.

Some rescue. Set free from their prison on that planet, only to once again be ensnared in their positions as captain and first officer, like two flies trapped in a spider's web. No use in wishing for what couldn't be. It wouldn't change anything. A rueful smile crossed Janeway's face; it was irrelevant, as Seven of Nine would say.

Seven of Nine. Janeway shook her head. The cause of the biggest disagreement between Chakotay and herself. In spite of how different their backgrounds were, she and Chakotay formed an exceptional team, probably as good as Picard and Riker. Often thinking the same thoughts, complementing each other's command styles and skills. And yet, that encounter with the Borg had revealed that she and Chakotay were equals in their passion, in their commitment and drive to keep the crew safe. Both of them right and both of them wrong. The professional and personal rift that had slashed between them at that time just made the lonely black hole inside her yawn even wider. They had both worked hard to reestablish their working relationship, and in the ensuing weeks, even their friendship, but it wasn't the same any more. Janeway felt a gnawing ache inside at the loss. Had that argument killed his affection for her? That question had joined her midnight speculations. She rubbed her forehead. "That too is irrelevant," she murmured, and turned back to her desk, pulling the console toward her.

As she often did when emotionally stressed, Janeway submerged her thoughts into work. Research on the singularity produced some interesting facts. The solid dependability of science calmed her mind like a soothing balm, enough that she was able to respond professionally when Chakotay entered to report that Tuvok and Seven had been successful in stabilizing the containment field, allowing the letters to come through more easily. Although it was a positive report, the somber look on her first officer's face did not bode well. Before she could inquire what was wrong, he asked her about her letter.

Multiple emotions gripped her as she watched his face while she summarized Mark's letter. A brief flicker flashed through his eyes, like the glimpse of something deeply submerged gliding through dark water.

"How do you feel about that?" he asked. Such a cautiously neutral tone.

"Well, I knew he'd eventually move on with his life. But there was such a finality to that letter." A road closed. Time to move on. "What about you?"

The careful mask Chakotay had been wearing cracked a bit, and the intensity of his pain speared through her. Then he told her. The stark words struck her like blows; how much greater would the pain be for someone so close to the people and the cause, now horribly ended? Kathryn moved beside him. "I'm so sorry, Chakotay." Inadequate words against such a huge loss. Thousands of people now dead, more guilt placed at the feet of the brutal Cardassians and the shortsighted Federation. She ached to comfort and support him as he had done for her so often in the past, but all she could do was lay a hand on one broad shoulder, now bent with pain.

Her comm badge sounded, startling her as Harry's voice came through. "Captain, could you come to the bridge?" She scrunched her face and glanced at Chakotay, his expression reflecting her thought. Never enough time to just be people. Command faces dropped into place like shields on a starship, and they headed for the door.

Tuvok and Seven of Nine had been captured by a hunting race, knows as the Hirogen. It was nip and tuck to rescue them, and prevent the destruction of Voyager itself in the powerful black hole that sucked in the whole relay station and all the attacking Hirogen ships as well.

Hours passed before Kathryn was able to make it back to the solitude of her ready room. It had been an exhausting time in which emotions ran high, what with the letters, the loss of the network of relay stations, the close call of Voyager, and the crowning glory - the discovery of yet another hostile alien race. She'd had scant opportunity to console Chakotay over the news of the slaughter of the Maquis in the badlands, as he sought out each and every member of his former crew to personally deliver the devastating news.

Once seated at her desk, she slumped momentarily in the chair, rolling her head side to side, attempting to ease the tension gripping her neck. Her shoulders felt as though they were around her ears. With a sigh, she glanced at the ever-present pile of PADDs on her desk, each one awaiting their moment of attention. One PADD sat slightly apart from the rest.

With a start, she realized that in the midst of battling the Hirogen, she'd forgotten all about the second letter. The one from Admiral Paris. Over the years, Owen Paris had become much more than just a superior officer to her, but also part mentor/part father, especially after her own father was killed on Tau Ceti Prime. She wouldn't even be in command if it hadn't been for his suggestion that she switch tracks, from science to command. A thought came to her, and she laughed sadly. "So, Owen, ultimately I have you to blame for being stranded out here."

The letter surprised her. It was chatty, friendly and conversational in tone. There were no directions, orders or even suggestions for her to follow.

I can't tell you what a joy, what a relief, it was for all of us to hear that you are alive. I told your mother myself, and typical of Gretchen, she just sat there and nodded, all the while tears poured down her face.

While I know you are working hard to get back home, I have to say that I'm actually glad you're not here right now. I can't say much about the political climate, but suffice to say, things are very ugly, and I know that as the fine captain you are, you would be heavily embroiled in the conflict. You and I both know what the Cardassians are like, and you'll have to take my word for it that there are others that are even worse. Believe me, it's a great relief to me that both you and my son are far, far away from this.

Speaking of Tom, I did send him a letter. I confess it was very hard to write, but I want him to know that I love him and I miss him. His mother and sisters do, too. Just in case his letter doesn't make it, tell him for me, would you? I've also mentioned in his letter some of the things I'm telling you, just in case yours doesn't come through. Anyway, Kathryn, I have to say, that if he has to be stranded so far from home, facing so many unknown dangers, I'm glad he's with you, under your care and command. He couldn't have a better commanding officer if it were Kirk himself out there.

There's been a wedding you might like to know about, someone from your past.

Kathryn looked away from the PADD. "I know, Owen," she sighed. "I already know." She forced her eyes back to the letter.

Seems that Will Riker finally got his act together and married that Betazoid counselor, Deanna Troi. I'm told it was a proper Betazed wedding, and you know what that means. I'm rather glad I couldn't make it. At my age, I don't look so good in the buff any more.

Kathryn burst out laughing, and for the first time, her smile was genuine. Will and Deanna, finally married. It still brought heat to her face to recall that aborted blind date she'd run out on with Will so many years ago. He'd been everything a woman could want, everything she didn't need as a cadet working with one goal in mind, and when she walked out on a flimsy excuse, she had shocked and angered her roommate, who had worked hard to set up the date. Her smile softened, saddened. Another acquaintance moving on with his life.

Riker's action seems to have lit a fire under his commanding officer, because I just heard that Picard and Beverly Crusher are engaged. Quite the team that's being formed on the Enterprise. Only someone who's known Jean-Luc as long as Bev has could possibly be willing to put with his stodgy habits - his Earl Grey tea, his dusty old books lying around everywhere. I'm told that it's going to be the wedding of the year, and everyone who's anyone will be there, even including the president of the Federation. I'll tell you, these days, we need something positive to celebrate. At least at this wedding, we all get to keep our clothes on!

Anyway, my dear, I've taken up enough space. All the best to you and your crew. Keep your chin up, and I hope to see you soon. Owen.

P.S. Your father would be proud of you, Kathryn; I know I am. Don't forget in the midst of all your pressures and duties to enjoy life. O.P.

Janeway blinked at the tears that stung her eyes. "Thank you, Owen," she whispered. She was acquainted with both Jean-Luc Picard and Beverly Crusher, liked and admired them both. His logs on the Borg had been very helpful to her during the recent encounter. Certainly Jean-Luc and Bev had been friends for a very long time, back to the days when her husband, Jack, had been alive. Nice that they had finally felt free to take that step beyond friendship.

It was on her way back from the replicator with a fresh cup of coffee that she stopped, and stared at the PADD in the center of her desk like it was something alive. A frown creased her forehead.

Why was Admiral Paris taking up precious datastream space to send her a letter like that? Although he had always looked out for her, challenged and pushed her, he'd never been one to waste time on society news. And in a time of war?

She perused the contents of the letter again. Glad that they were alive and away from the conflict. His greetings to his son. Riker's wedding and Picard's engagement. That was all. After a few moments of pondering, she drew her console toward her, and plunked the PADD into a slot. "Computer, scan for any encryption."

A few seconds later, the computer beeped. "Scan complete. No evidence of encryption."

Kathryn slouched in her chair, drumming her fingers against her chin. She fiddled with her comm badge, moment by moment becoming increasingly convinced that Owen was trying to impart something more to her through this apparently simple, friendly letter.

Her best thinking was always done on her feet, so she rose, coffee mug in hand, and began pacing. Letting her mind go blank, she tried to let the thoughts free flow. Pictures streamed through her mind. Asking Admiral Paris to be the advisor on her junior honors thesis. Sitting beside him as the Cardassians tractored their shuttle, the admiral grimly telling her to do her best, but not to be overly heroic. Admiral Paris quietly taking her hand at the memorial service for her father, telling her to come to him with anything, anytime. The pride on his face when she was made captain. Always looking out for her, encouraging her in her career, in life.

This trip down memory lane was enjoyable, but not at all helpful. Maybe she should ask Chakotay what he thought; he was always so intuitive, so able to read between the lines.

Suddenly she gasped and darted back to her desk, sliding to her knees before her chair. Cold fingers reached for the letter once more. Will and Deanna. Jean-Luc and Beverly. All from one ship. Kathryn's heart was pounding. Quite the team that's being formed on the Enterprise…everyone who's anyone will be there, even including the president of the Federation.

Don't forget in the midst of all your pressures and duties to enjoy life.

Quite the team that's being formed on the Enterprise.

Quite the team…

Fingers tightening around the PADD, she stared at the words. He couldn't come right out and say it, so it wasn't an official change to protocol, but obviously the stand on fraternization within ranks had drastically changed. "Ah, Owen, you know me so well," she whispered. A complex surge of emotion made her press her suddenly trembling lips together. The admiral, her old mentor, had said he was proud of her, as though he knew she would be steadfastly upholding every rule she could to maintain good order on her ship. Of course he knew. She touched the PADD gently, almost reverently. Her letter of freedom.

Blood rushed to her face as her dream from last night flooded her mind. She and Chakotay, writhing together, bodies moving, thrusting against each other.

With a heave, she pushed herself into the chair, then swiveled around to stare out the viewport. What if he was no longer interested? What if Chakotay had moved on? Although they had repaired much of the rift between them, there had still been no friendly dinners, no teasing on the bridge for weeks now.

Would it be best just to leave things as they were? Don't forget in the midst of all your pressures and duties to enjoy life. Kathryn closed her eyes. On the one hand, possibly sixty more years of aching aloneness, eventually watching him go to another, while on the other, the opportunity to form an unbeatable team - a life team. Would he want that with her? It wouldn't be easy, but surely they could do it. Couldn't they?

Owen seemed to think so. He might not know exactly who she had in mind, but it appeared he had confidence that she could still command her vessel and crew, and maintain a relationship.

The sound of her door chime startled her, and it was a moment before she bid the person to come in. Tuvok entered to deliver his report, but even though his description of the encounter with the Hirogen was chilling, Janeway was hard pressed to remain focused. Her old friend seemed to sense her distraction and kept his report short. Her heart began to pound when the object of her speculation also entered the ready room. Tuvok turned to leave, but not before she caught the quick glance that he flicked from her to Chakotay. Her tightly strung nerves almost gave her an uncharacteristic fit of the giggles; for someone so personally unaffected by emotions, her security officer was far too sensitive to hers.

Chakotay handed her the report on repairs, turning to watch Tuvok's exit with a carefully composed expression worthy of the Vulcan himself. However, the second the doors slid shut, the command mask shattered, and the depth of his sorrow was clearly evident. It was hard to see him in so much pain, but it pleased her greatly that he felt comfortable enough with her to allow his true feelings to show. The slumped shoulders declared his exhaustion as he dropped into the chair opposite her desk.

"How is everyone doing?" she asked gently, as she placed a cup of coffee before him.

The sigh seemed to come from the soles of his boots. "About what you'd expect. Lots of emotions ping-ponging around today. These letters are a two-edged sword. The crewmembers who got happy letters feel slightly guilty, and the ones who got sad news are upset, as well as feeling slightly jealous of the others. And that makes them feel guilty too. Those who got no news, well, their feelings are all over the map. Then there's the former Maquis." Chakotay shook his head, his expression bleak. "Shocked, sad, angry. Take your pick - it's all there, in spades."

Desolate eyes turned to her. "Thousands of people, Kathryn, all gone. Good people, who only wanted to protect their homes. On Tevlik Moon alone, there would have been over four thousand people - men, women, and children. Whole families, completely wiped out." His voice broke, and he reached for his mug, pointing a finger at her. "You know, you drink too much of that stuff. If I'm not mistaken, that's your third cup."

It was a cover up that she was willing to allow him, being an expert at them herself. "Fourth," she retorted. "And on a day like today, it won't be my last. It got me through the worst of the last three years. I beat the Borg with it."

The chuckle they shared was companionable, but a little half-hearted. Her concern was for the crew; she knew some had been hoping mail call would become a regular feature. They'd unexpectedly made contact with home, only to have it snatched away from them when the energy released by the singularity created a such a massive discharge, that the whole relay network had been disabled.

"How are you doing?" Chakotay's tone was serious again.

Amazing. Such a huge capacity to care for others, even in the midst of his own overwhelming sorrow. "I'm fine," she answered quickly.

The sound he made was one of unbelief. "You'd say that if you just had your legs torn off by a Trachon beast. Look what you've been through in the last few days. We finally make a connection with home and it's ripped away from us."

His words were an echo of her thoughts, just like so many, many times before. He continued speaking.

"We manage to make another enemy who's going to try and hunt us down and destroy us. And on top of that…" Chakotay paused, obviously uncertain what to say.

Raising her head up, she interjected. "It's all right; you can say it. On top of all that, I got a 'Dear John' letter." She sighed. "It wasn't really a surprise. I guess I didn't really expect him to wait for me, considering the circumstances. It made me realize that I was using him as a safety net. You know, as a way to avoid becoming involved with someone else."

"You don't have that safety net anymore."

What was in his tone? She tried to read his voice, his expression, but his face was shuttered again. Heart pounding in her throat, she tried to make light of it. "That's right. Then again, my life is far from uneventful here in the Delta Quadrant. It's not like I would have had a chance to pursue a relationship even if I had realized I was alone."

His voice was quiet, a gentle velvet stroke. "You're hardly alone, and to my way of thinking, there's still plenty of time."

"Plenty of time," she echoed. Maybe. Then again, maybe not. They'd had this discussion just a few short months ago when he had reassured her that she wasn't alone. She'd told him then that she couldn't imagine a day without him, and it was even truer now than it was then, despite the residual separation between them from that difficult time.

Taking a deep breath, she picked up that precious PADD with fingers that trembled slightly. How appropriate that his old ship should have been named Liberty, because Kathryn felt like she was handing him the key to her freedom, her deliverance from bondage, as she slid the letter across the desk to him. "Here. Read this." Was that a slight quaver in her voice?

Chakotay glanced at the PADD, then back at her upon seeing who it was from. Don't look at me too closely, she silently implored. Her command face had more than a few cracks in it today. She placed her hands in her lap, clenching them into tight fists to still their shaking.

As he began to read, she took the rare opportunity to freely observe him, adding to the long string of moments spent studying Chakotay. It sounded like a course at the Academy: Chakotay 101. A corner of her mouth twitched at the thought. After all the time and effort she'd put into it, she should be able to pass with flying colors. Maybe even at the top of the class, if she was very, very lucky.

A small frown of concentration formed on his brow as he read. He was an excellent tactician, so she had no doubt he would figure it out, probably faster than she had. She could almost feel his mind digging deeper, mining the words for hidden meanings as he looked aside from the device, staring at nothing.

Such a big, strong man. Beautiful to look at, beautiful inside. When had he become so essential to her happiness, to her very life? The dark circles under his eyes and the lines of strain on his face spoke of his fatigue. How much sorrow could one man carry? How much loss could one man bear? She couldn't give him back his family, but just maybe she could give him a new one - if only he would take and use the key she was handing him. But what if he didn't want her any more? That was the question that sent something akin to terror spiraling through her. In that case, the chains that anchored her down might never be released.

Her stomach clenched into knots as she recognized the moment it clicked for him, his jaw slackening in amazement as he lifted the PADD to read once more. A prickle of anticipation crept over her skin as she watched the slow transformation of his expression - from questioning, to astonishment, to certainty - as he perused the letter. Then he raised his head.

So expressive. Those eyes that could sparkle with laughter or snap with anger, now locked with hers and filled with such a powerful intensity, that she didn't know what to think, could hardly breathe. She knew he could see all the hopes, all the longings she'd buried for so long, lying naked and exposed on her face.

Then that wonderful, handsome face that she treasured above all else, slowly broke into a smile as brilliantly beautiful as any dawning, and somewhere in the back of her mind, the sound of shackles clattering to the floor resounded. When she placed her hand in the one he extended to her, she was soaring, free…free.

The End

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© Brianna Thomas, March 2003 Please email me to post/distribute elsewhere.