A MATTER OF TRUST

"I wish to apologize…" The face staring back at her in the mirror grimaced. Her words sounded about as sincere as a Ferengi saying, "Have I got a deal for you."

Janeway threw up her hands, complaining to her reflection. "I'm no good at this; I never have been." Even as a child, she'd had a hard time apologizing. Her stubbornness and pride got in the way. Besides, humble pie or eating crow tasted about as bad as leola root to her.

In the course of her career, she'd had to make decisions that had led to the injury and even the death of others, but however painful each casualty was to her, she'd been fortunate that those had been the result of real command decisions, not errors in judgment. Her career mistakes had been rare, and seldom needed an apology. "But you've done it now, Janeway. Big time," she muttered. The sight of her mournful face almost made her laugh. It reminded her of her dog, Molly, when the critter knew it had been bad. "Guess that's where the phrase 'hang-dog expression' comes from."

Okay. Once more with some sincerity. "I'm sorry. Please forgive me." She turned away from the mirror in disgust. "No, no, no! You will not beg. You're his commanding officer, for goodness sakes, and it was just a command decision."

One that he should have been part of as her first officer.

She sighed. Her father's words came back to her. "Goldenbird, one of the greatest strengths a person can have is the ability to admit when they're wrong." Well, she'd been wrong, and there was no getting around it.

For Chakotay and her to be the kind of command team that this crew would require to survive out here, they were going to need to build a solid working relationship based on trust. But her actions had disintegrated what they had developed over their months together so far. Grimacing again, she acknowledged that she had torn it down with her own hands, so she would have to be the one to fix it.

Turning again to the mirror, she stared at the reflection. She could see in her mind the look of confusion on Chakotay's face, followed by the brief flash of hurt when he comprehended what had happened, what she and Tuvok had done behind his back. Then Tuvok had explained that they suspected the traitor might be Maquis, which would put the commander in an awkward position of possible divided loyalties. Chakotay's face had quickly shut down, but the hurt was still in his voice. "In other words, you don't trust me," he'd said.

It really wasn't that, not for her anyway. It wasn't a matter of not trusting him, not after all this time. He'd served diligently for over a year, with no hint of partiality toward the Maquis members. She'd even heard whispers of him punching one of his former crew when the man wanted to do things 'the Maquis way.' And Seska, although a total snake in the grass, was a very astute person, and her parting words indicated that even she recognized that Chakotay had completely thrown in his lot with Janeway. The only blip on his record so far was his going off on his own to deal with Seska's theft of Starfleet technology, and even that hadn't been to betray Voyager, but a matter of honor to Chakotay.

An honorable man. A man of integrity. Fact was, she had trusted him almost from the moment she'd seen him, and everything that had happened thus far on their journey had confirmed her initial estimation of the man. Which was, that there was a whole lot more to Commander Chakotay - former fine Starfleet officer, former Maquis, now Voyager's first officer - than Starfleet's file indicated.

Even to her own ears, her attempt at placating him had sounded awfully lame, telling him they had needed the performance from him of truly being angry with Tom for his insubordination. Stupid, weak. As if a well-trained Starfleet officer and successful Maquis like Chakotay would be unable to give the required "performance" if he was fully informed. As he should have been. As was his right as first officer.

It was indeed a matter of trust, but of his trust in her, which he had given unreservedly from the beginning, and that she had now violated. Her eyes closed against the accusation in her own face. What must he think of her now? Forcing herself to open her eyes, she glared angrily at her reflection. "You screwed up, Janeway." The reproving voice was strident, almost yelling. "Go and make it right. Now," she ordered.

Without any further delay, she strode from her quarters to approach the door next to hers and rang the chime. But as she stood waiting, thoughts began tumbling through her mind. It was still early, barely past dinnertime, so he wouldn't be asleep, but she should have checked if he was in, and if he was alone. Maybe she should have put her uniform back on. After all, she had betrayed him as his commanding officer, so maybe… The door slid open, and there he stood, halting her avalanche of thoughts.

*****

Chakotay listlessly poked his fork at his dinner. Eventually, he would have to eat it, because he couldn't afford to waste the replicator rations. But he just hadn't felt like facing the crew in the mess hall tonight. He managed to shovel in a few more forkfuls before finally pushing his plate away.

It was hard to decide which part of this whole mess rankled him the most: that the traitor had been a former member of his crew, or that Tuvok had been right about that fact. Realizing he had been absently tapping his fork against the edge of the table exactly the way his mother had always hated, he took his tea and went to stand before his viewport.

He still found it odd to think that even if the ship had been moving slowly enough to clearly pick out the stars whipping past, he wouldn't recognize a single one. It was a thrill, albeit an uncomfortable one, to know that no one from the Alpha Quadrant had ever seen these before. Not for the first time, he wondered where he would be if he were still back there. Would he even be alive? In a Cardassian prison? If so, he'd be better off dead.

Neither he nor anyone else onboard had knowledge about where Voyager was headed, what stars they would see, what planets and people they would encounter, good or bad. It was one of the stresses they all faced on this journey - the uncertainty. No foundation beneath; just themselves to rely upon. Only now, he felt like he didn't even have that.

On the Liberty, Tuvok had fooled him. Seska had as well. How hideously ironic; a Cardassian posing as a Bajoran. The oppressor pretending to be one of the oppressed. Cardassian: the race that had caused so much torment, so much butchery of life. Cardassian: the race that had destroyed his homeworld, slaughtered his people like they were merely annoying flies. Every time he thought of how he had taken that double-agent to his bed, bile rose from his stomach, and it was cold comfort to know that even the Vulcan hadn't seen through her. How many people were dead because of secrets he had entrusted to her? And then there was Paris, who had - what? The pilot swore up and down he had not deliberately set out to betray the Maquis when he'd been captured, and in fact, asserted that Seska had set him up. Chakotay was inclined to believe him, but it didn't make the feelings go away. And now Michael Jonas. He'd never spent much time with Jonas on a personal level, just knew him to be an adequate enough engineer that B'Elanna had never broken any of his limbs. Or his nose.

He hadn't seen any of it coming. It left him feeling uneasy and vulnerable, like having shifting sand for his foundation. When was the tide going to come in and suck the ground right out from under him again? How many other little time bombs were quietly ticking away, awaiting some future time of detonation, and him oblivious to the sound? It made him question his own judgment ability, and worse, it made him suspicious of people he formerly would have entrusted his life to.

Pushing against the bulkhead, he straightened up, rubbing the tense muscles in the small of his back. Only then did he realize he still held a mug full of tea, now stone cold. He set it on the table and rotated his shoulders and head. Earlier in the day he'd seen Captain Janeway doing the same thing.

Anger crackled through him at the thought of his commanding officer. "We needed the performance," had been her excuse. What a load of crap! He was her first officer, for gods' sake, though it would now appear to be in name only. A sigh broke from his chest; he wasn't being fair. Until this incidence, Janeway had shown no sign of treating him that way, had in fact valued his input. He'd told her up front that he wouldn't be her token Maquis, and she'd been fair up to this point. Up to this point.

His snort of bitter laughter sliced the silence of the room like a knife. How could he blame her, considering he too was having doubts about his judgment? He'd obviously not done a stellar job with his crew from the Liberty, so what confidence would she have in his ability to do better with their combined crew? All the same, her treatment of him still stung like harsh antiseptic on an open wound. She had shamed him, taking a mere lieutenant - and a convicted criminal, at that - into her confidence before him, supposedly her first officer. Once again, he'd been shafted by Starfleet.

Why should that disappoint him? Long ago, after his 'pet' bird had flown away, his grandfather had taught him the lesson that a thing will always behave according to its nature. If it is wild, it will be wild, if it is poisonous, it will poison, if it is kind, it will be loving and gentle. And if it is Starfleet, it will use and betray however suits it at the moment. So, why was he so disappointed?

Because he'd thought she was different.

He'd given her his trust from the beginning, and obviously that too was another of his errors in judgment. Why should he blame her for merely behaving according to type?

Because he'd thought she was different.

At that moment, his door chime sounded. It wasn't late, but it still surprised him. People didn't usually visit him privately, especially recently. Early in the journey, the Maquis had felt like he'd sold out to Starfleet, and the 'fleet side of the crew saw him as a turncoat. Just when relations had improved a bit, Seska had happened, and now Jonas. "Computer, who's at the door?"

"Captain Janeway is at the door."

Captain Janeway? What the heck was she doing outside his private quarters? She'd never shown up like this before. "Well, old man, there's only one way to find out, now isn't there?" He strode over to the door.

*****

Odd. He was the one still in uniform, while she stood there in civvies. Without her boots, she felt very short standing before him and very much at a disadvantage. The look on his face was wary - hooded eyes, unsmiling mouth.

"Captain."

The cool greeting was not encouraging, and she was tempted to pivot on her heel and head back to her own quarters. In her mind, she could see her scolding reflection acting like her good conscience, 'Do it, Janeway. Just do it.'

"May I come in?"

Chakotay wondered at the hesitant sound of his captain's voice. In the more than twelve months that he'd known her, she'd always come across as strong and forthright. He stood aside and silently gestured for her to enter.

He watched as she looked around his spartan quarters. Almost all his personal belongings had been destroyed along with the Liberty, and between the need to amalgamate the two crews and the constant hostile enemies they'd faced, there had been precious little opportunity for decorating.

When her gaze reached his table and the dishes with food still on them, she exclaimed. "Oh. Commander, you're just having dinner. I'm sorry, I thought you'd be finished. We can talk another time, so I'll…"

"No," he interrupted. "It's all right. I was late starting dinner because I took - at least, I tried to take - a vision quest. Besides, I don't seem to have much of an appetite tonight."

She could understand that. Although it was a relief to have the whole dilemma about the traitor resolved, it had been a tough day for everyone, especially for him. "Were you unsuccessful?"

"Pardon me?"

"You said you tried to do a vision quest. Were you unsuccessful?"

"You could say that. Although my spirit guide appeared, she seemed disinclined to talk to me, and," he made a slight face, "I can't say I blame her tonight."

Not in a good mood. Great. Part of her still wanted to forget the whole thing, but her good conscience was jumping up and down on her shoulder with spiked boots and screaming in her ear to just get on with it. "Could we talk, Commander? Unless this is a bad time?"

Chakotay could hear the tentative sound in her voice, see the eyes that darted to his, then away. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "My mother would be ready to whip my butt for my lack of manners. Please." He gestured to the couch, then walked to the replicator. He tossed a grin over his shoulder at her. "Coffee, I presume?"

Janeway was half seated when she looked up at his question. The jolt that shot through her at the sight of his grin made her plop onto the couch with a bounce. Dear heavens, she knew he had a nice smile, but tonight it seemed to have phaser quality to it. He had crooked his eyebrow at her, awaiting her reply, so she struggled to find her voice. "Coffee? Of course - what else is there?"

Now that sounded more like his captain. Chakotay smiled again. Once he placed the mug before her on the coffee table, he took a seat in the big chair opposite her. He observed her while she sipped the hot brew. It wasn't often he got to see her out of uniform, and it always surprised him that she seemed so much smaller. And it wasn't only the lack of high-heeled boots. Her long hair was in braid that hung over her shoulder, and he watched as her free hand absently crept up to rub at her slender neck. She was a very attractive woman. If she weren't his commanding officer, he'd be tempted to…

Shoving the wayward thought aside, he noted her studying the mug, as though all the answers to the universe were hidden there. He realized with something almost akin to shock that she was stalling. Trying to put off something that was decidedly making her nervous. Captain Kathryn Janeway, nervous. His curiosity got the better of him. "Captain, you said you wished to speak with me."

Her eyes snapped up to him, and after a moment, she spoke. "How are you doing, Commander?"

"I've had better days," he told her honestly.

"I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "Tomorrow's another day, so…"

"No," she interjected, seeming to hurry to pour the words out. "I'm sorry for my actions, for not including you in the investigation from the very start. It was a mistake, and I apologize."

Well, damn. That certainly took the wind out of his sails. It was hard to maintain a wall of righteous indignation with her words acting like a powerful flood to sweep away every hardened brick. Perhaps it was the contrary nature that he'd been branded with all his life, but he still felt somewhat disinclined to let her off the hook quite so easily.

"A mistake," he repeated. "Yes, it was. The question is, why? Why, after all this time, don't you trust me?" If she had as many doubts about his judgment as he did, he wanted to hear it from her straight out.

Janeway winced at the biting tone in his voice. It would not have been pleasant to be a junior officer receiving a lecture from him. "It's not a matter of trust, Commander. It isn't," she reiterated at his snort of disbelief. Spreading her hands, she tried to explain her actions. "It's that I don't know you." At his frown, she backtracked. "I mean, I do, but compared to how long I've known Tuvok, I don't really know you. And out here, everything is so uncertain, we never know from one day to the next what we're going to be facing. I've been…"

Captains don't confess to weaknesses. Captains don't show their crew their uncertainties or their fears. Captains don't…

"I've been floundering," she concluded in a rush. "I feel like every foundation I've stood on has been ripped out from under me."

Chakotay blinked in amazement at the echo of his earlier thoughts. Kindred spirits. He shook his head. Now where did that come from? The words had just popped into his head. His eyes swept over her briefly, noting what he hadn't seen before - the dark circles of exhaustion under her eyes, the almost translucent quality to her pale skin, the weight loss from when he'd first met her. Command was hard on anyone under any circumstances, and it would be difficult to find a more constantly stressful environment than the one they endured on Voyager in the Delta Quadrant. The endless array of hostile aliens, the pressing need to find enough food to feed one hundred and fifty people, and supplies to keep the ship functioning. Two disparate crews to meld together, constant battles and repairs, daily life and death decisions, and the crowning glory - traitors within. It was enough to make the strongest of officers resign and take up permanent residence on Risa. Only, there was no such option for Captain Janeway, or for any of them.

"You've known Tuvok for a long time?"

Janeway had seen a flicker in his eyes of something she couldn't name, and the brief assessing gaze that swept over her. She wondered what he was seeing. "Yes, for many years. Believe it or not, we've actually become friends, although we certainly didn't start out that way." Her grin was rueful at the recollection of the beginning of her relationship with Tuvok of Vulcan.

"I can hear a story behind that comment." Chakotay grinned at her. "I'd like to hear it."

Janeway bowed her head and sighed, all the old feelings burning as hot and fresh as they had that day so long ago. "At the standard review board held after my first mission as a captain, Ensign Tuvok listed over forty violations of tactical procedures." She paused at Chakotay's low whistle. "Needless to say, I was mortified. I was shocked and angry, and made even more so when the board decided to assign Ensign Tuvok to my ship as tactical officer, without allowing me any say in the matter. They figured we would be a good match, while I, on the other hand, was positive that everyone would see how unsuited we were after just one rotation."

"And here you are, still together after all this time."

"Yes, here we are."

Chakotay looked at the quirky smile he had become familiar with over the last year. He hadn't seen it much in the last couple of weeks. "Would that qualify as your most embarrassing moment?" he asked.

"Certainly one of them. Right up there with the time I walked out in the middle of a date with Will Riker."

"You walked out of a date with Will Riker?" At her nod, he sputtered with amazement, "But I understood that every female in the Alpha Quadrant considers Riker to be the most…" He was at a loss what to say.

"He is."

Her reply was strangely solemn, and his heart lurched. "Captain, he didn't hurt you, did he?" It didn't seem like something that a person like Riker would do, but sometimes, as he well knew, appearances could be deceiving. The idea that someone could have hurt Kathryn Janeway filled him with an emotion he was hard pressed to identify.

The look of concern on Chakotay's face touched her deeply. "Oh, no," she quickly reassured him. "He was absolutely charming. A total gentleman. A terrific conversationalist, funny, compassionate, and tall, dark and handsome to boot. And very intelligent too. He was even familiar with the topic of my thesis."

The commander chose that moment to pick up her empty mug and head to his replicator. "Your thesis on massive compact halo objects? Some of it was beyond me, but it made for very fascinating reading, especially considering the discoveries in the last ten years."

He had read her thesis. It was a good thing his back was to her or he would have seen the shiver that coursed through her. Janeway felt a familiar tingling in her fingertips that did not bode well. She studied her first officer. Tall, dark, and handsome. Funny. Charming. A warrior, yet a gentleman. And smart on top of everything. He was…

"Dangerous."

The click of the mug on the table before her snapped her out of her reverie. "Excuse me?"

"You found him dangerous to your need to stay focussed at that time in your life."

Compassionate and understanding. The tingles in her fingertips increased. "Yes. Exactly. So I ran."

Chakotay studied her over his fresh mug of tea. Somehow this explained a lot about the enigma that was Captain Kathryn Janeway. If anyone would be able to develop a friendship with a Vulcan, she would.

"What?"

"I was thinking that if anyone could make friends with a Vulcan, you could. Although it still seems like an unlikely combination."

"No more unlikely than your friendship with our fiery half-Klingon chief engineer."

"I supposed so," he conceded. "Things were less rigid in the Maquis than in Starfleet, but like you with Tuvok, B'Elanna has always been under my command, and you know as much about the need for command distance as I do. Mind you," he shrugged, and took a sip from his tea, "that never stopped B'E from saying exactly whatever was on her mind."

She smiled. "I have noticed that quality about her. While disconcerting at times, it's also refreshing. You know what you're getting with B'Elanna; there's no subterfuge." He was surprised, but pleased to hear her say that about his compatriot.

Janeway made a slight face and continued. "Although, as you say, there are inherent limitations to a friendship with a Vulcan, more than just the command issue. There's the whole lack of understanding of emotions. Whenever I act instinctively, I can see this little frown appear on Tuvok's forehead as though all his mental wheels just ground to a halt."

It occurred to her to wonder for the first time whether the commander had any real connections on this ship. His apparent ease with relationships could be deceiving. "What about the rest of the Maquis? Do you have friendships there?"

"In a way." The black and red jacket shifted as his shoulders moved. "There's the same issue of command, plus the Maquis don't quite know what to make of me any more. While they mentally understand the need for the amalgamation of the crew, it's still somewhat disturbing to them. And the 'fleeters were just really coming around to accept me…" He trailed off.

Seska and Jonas. "Chakotay, that wasn't you're fault. Nobody blames you."

He surged out of his seat, striding to the viewport. "Don't they? Then why is that when I walk into the mess hall, conversations stop and eyes glance at me and then quickly away?"

Following, she stood behind him, his rigid back emanating waves of tension. "Maybe they're just wondering how you're managing to handle this. I know I don't blame you."

"Maybe you should," he shot back over his shoulder. "I do."

"That's the first totally stupid thing I've ever heard you say." At least that got him turned around, even if he was vibrating with anger. She continued. "That's about as stupid as me blaming myself for what Tuvok and Joe Carey did over the device of the Sikarans to fold space. People make their own choices, Commander."

She could see the struggle within him. Like the Maquis in regard to being on Voyager, his head might accept that he wasn't responsible, but his heart hadn't made the adjustment. As one of her Academy instructors once said, "The distance between a man's head and his heart is much greater than twelve inches."

At the planet of the 37s, the commander had been such a support, such an encouragement to her. In fact, right from the beginning of their journey, she had known they would make a great team together. Now, maybe it was time to be a little bit more.

With her head to one side, she considered him. He was Starfleet, yet not Starfleet. Maquis, yet not Maquis. Truly a man without a country, without a home. The moment he joined the Maquis, Earth was off limits to him, and his home on Dorvan was gone thanks to the viciousness of the Cardassians and the shortsightedness of the Federation. And compounded with all of that, was his position of command that carried an inherent aloneness to it, as did hers.

"Maybe," she said quietly, "maybe we could both use a friend."

The anger seemed to whoosh out of him like an open airlock. He spoke slowly. "I'd like that, Captain."

Captain. He really was her equal. Had he stayed in Starfleet, he undoubtedly would have made captain by now, and he had ably - all too ably, the Federation had figured - captained a diverse crew of angry dissidents. "Maybe when we're alone you could call me 'Kathryn.' It would be nice to hear my own name from someone other than me when I have to introduce myself in yet another first contact."

Chakotay felt a sense of marvel. Such a small woman, yet so powerful. Although his anger had felt so heavy, so consuming, she had blown it away with a simply gesture, like wind blowing chaff. That crooked grin of hers could beguile latinum out of a Ferengi. On impulse, he stuck his hand out to her. "Hi. I'm Chakotay."

Her smile was one of delight at his unique approach as she placed her small hand in his. "I'm Kathryn," she responded. "Nice to meet you."

Pleased that she was going along with the game, he continued. "So, what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?"

Laughter rang out from her. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you. What about you?"

Dropping her hand, he gestured back to the couch. "Too long a story to tell."

As she reseated herself, she looked up. "It just so happens that I have a lot of time on my hands. Would sixty years or so be long enough?"

The sudden blinking of tears and the way she quickly looked aside told him it was the first time she'd admitted out loud the possibility that their journey might take that long. Instead of going back to his chair, he sat beside her on the couch and briefly placed his hand over hers. "Kathryn, we'll make it. We will." It was the first time he'd ever spoken her given name out loud, and it seemed significant that it was in an attempt to give her comfort and the same sense of peace she had given him.

Changing the subject to distract her, he asked, "So, how shall we go about getting acquainted?"

"I think we've been doing it already, although I'd say it's been pretty one-sided so far."

"What do you mean?"

"You," she pointed a finger at him, "are a sneak. You have already managed to ferret out of me two stories, without giving up a single one of your own."

"Once a Maquis, always a Maquis." Although he answered with a grin, inside he was quailing slightly. He'd always been a private person and to open up even to her, or maybe, especially to her, left him uneasy. "What do you want to know?"

Kathryn hadn't missed the slightly guarded look that came over his face. Something easy to start with, then. "Hmm. Tell me about your happiest day." Watching the play of expressions across his face, she wondered what memories he was sifting through.

"I don't know that there is just one, but certainly one of them would be the day I was accepted into Starfleet. It was something I'd wanted for so long, almost to the point of obsession. I saw it as my avenue of escape from the way of life that I despised." He gave a slight grimace. "Of course, like a lot of happy times, it was tinged with darkness, because I knew I was going to have to face my father's disappointment and anger, and my mother's disappointment and tears."

"Were you right?"

Sighing, Chakotay nodded shortly. "Yes. On both counts. My turn." He wanted the attention shifted from him. "When were you the most nervous?"

"You mean, other than coming to apologize to you tonight?"

The laughter exploded from his chest. It felt good, and had been so long since he'd laughed like that. It was odd that something so small, like this admission of hers, would be the means to truly mending the broken trust between them.

She shared her experience as a six-year-old saddled with traditionalist parents who had made her take ballet, and being faced with a solo in the annual recital. "And that ranks a close second to the time I approached Admiral Paris to be my advisor on my junior honors thesis."

"I never actually met him, but I heard he could be quite a tartar."

Interesting, Chakotay's choice of the old fashioned word to describe Admiral Paris. "A tartar? Yes, but there was another side to the man. A man who loved his family. You should have seen him the day that he heard Tom had been in an accident. And then there was…" She stopped, thoughts of another time, a much darker time flooding her mind.

"Kathryn?"

His velvet voice awakened her from her reverie. Strange that although it was only the second time he'd spoken her name that it should sound so right, so natural coming from his lips. His voice invited confidence, and she had no doubt that most people would feel very comfortable sharing their secrets with him. She knew he would be aware of this particular experience from reading her official record, yet it was hard still hard to talk about, even after all these years. Well, they were supposed to be trying to become friends.

"Admiral Paris figured largely in the time I felt more fear than I ever had in my life." The only way she could talk about this was to not actually look at him, so she looked over his right shoulder at a smudge mark on the otherwise pristine wall. She knew he liked boxing and wondered if it was the result of hitting the wall in frustration over the last few days. Frustration that had been only partly the result of circumstances and largely the result of her actions.

"Listening to Admiral Paris screaming while the Cardassians tortured him was the most horrible, most terrifying thing I've ever heard." She could hear those screams again, on and on and on, could smell the earth beneath her in that floorless cage she'd been held in, taste the blood from the wound over her eye dripping down her face to her lip. "They did it in the courtyard, right next to me."

Chakotay sat, immobilized. It was obvious from the distant look on her face that she was somewhere back there, reliving her memories again. A sense of protectiveness arose in him and he had to do something to bring her back. He took her hand and held it. "They did it that way on purpose. They wanted you frightened before they even started on you."

Her eyes looked down at their joined hands, then finally up at his face. "I know. I knew that even then. But it didn't make it any easier to hear." She had to move. Squeezing his hand briefly in gratitude, she reached for her coffee and stood.

"Interestingly, that was the first time I was grateful to my parents for the traditionalist upbringing they'd insisted upon for my sister and me. It was because I'd taken tennis that I was able to kill the Toskanar dog that was intent on ripping Justin Tighe and me apart. I just swung that tree limb like it was a tennis…"

Turning around, she stared at Chakotay in amazement. "You targ, you!" Bending, she grabbed a PADD from the table and whipped it at him, which he caught easily with one hand. "You've done it to me again! Getting me to talk endlessly while you reveal next to nothing."

His grin was a little sheepish. "I don't know why, but people seem to tell me things."

Before she returned to her seat, she rubbed at the spot on the wall. She caught his look of chagrin before he glanced away, and knew that if she wasn't right about the cause of that mark, she was close. "It's because you truly seem to care, and people trust you." He glanced at her sharply, and she wondered what she'd said.

Chakotay knew she couldn't possibly realize how much her words meant to him. It was true, people did seem to talk to him easily, although lately it had slowed down somewhat. But even still, it hadn't stopped completely. It was his turn to be drawn out of his reflective thoughts.

"Did you ever regret your decision to join Starfleet?"

"No." He could answer that in complete honesty and without hesitation. "In spite of everything that happened, that's one thing I never regretted."

"What's your greatest regret?"

The look on her face told him she was sorry for the question as soon as it was out of her mouth. This conversation was going a lot deeper than either of them had expected in their "getting acquainted" attempt.

"I'm sorry," she blurted. "Never mi…"

"It's all right." And for some reason, it was. He'd never said the words out loud before, but he just knew it would provide an outlet, a healing for him to do so, to admit it to her. "Up until recently, I could unequivocally say that it was not reconciling with my father before he was killed." It was her turn to take his hand, and he held onto it like a lifeline. "But in the last few weeks, I'd say it's about equal with ever having become involved with Seska." There. He'd said it. His shame at the unhealed rift between himself and his father, his shame at the whole fiasco with Seska.

Still holding her hand, he returned the question, "What's your greatest regret?"

The immediacy of her response told him she'd already done a lot pondering on the matter. "Destroying the array."

"Kathryn, you had no choice. The Ocampa would never have survived under a brutal race like the Kazon."

"I know," she whispered, and repeated her words from earlier. "But it doesn't make it any easier."

They were silent for a moment until she asked, "What do you miss most about the Alpha Quadrant? Somebody or something?"

What did he miss? Almost his entire family was dead. He'd spent most of his final years there in constant battle, darting in and out, hitting targets, running, hiding out, then doing it all again. "I can't think of a thing."

The starkness of his reply was a shock, like the cold water her sister had dumped on her to break her out of the depression that consumed her after the deaths of her father and Justin. What had Chakotay's life become that there was nothing that he missed? He was asking her a question.

"What about you? Who or what do you miss? And don't say real coffee."

She laughed. "When we get back, I'm going to take a bath in the stuff."

The deep sound of his chuckle was heard. "Now that sounds appealing. I can just imagine it; an evening out on the town, your date sniffing the air and commenting, 'Strange. Wherever we go, I seem to smell coffee.'"

Swatting at his arm, she picked up her mug and took a long swig. "Well, as for what, it's hard to decided. The smell of fall leaves, Indiana winters, caramel brownies." She paused, considering. "The who, that varies according to the day, or even the time of day. In the mornings, it was always my dog, Molly, who woke me up just before my alarm went off. And don't you dare say Molly is not a 'who.'"

His nod was solemn, although he couldn't hide the grin peeking through. "I would certainly never say such a thing."

She sent a scolding glance his way before resuming her recitation. "At lunch, I miss my mother, because that's when she most often contacted me to see how my day was going. In the evenings, I miss Mark." She couldn't suppress the blush that started on her cheeks. "We didn't live together, but most of our evenings were spent together, and our times were comfortable, easy." In fact, she hadn't felt that comfortable, that easy with someone in a long, long time. Until now. She was getting just a little too comfortable and stood abruptly. "Computer, what's the time?"

"The time is 2342."

"My goodness!" she exclaimed. "Where did the time go?"

"You know what they say," he answered as he also stood. "Time flies when you're having fun."

"It was fun. Thank you, Comm…" She stopped herself. "Chakotay. I enjoyed this."

"So did I. I'm glad you got past your nerves and came over." That teasing grin peeked out again. "Actually, Cap…Kathryn, B'Elanna submitted a plan to overhaul the systems in engineering that bears consideration. Why don't we meet for breakfast and go over it?"

"Sounds good. I'll stop by for you about 0630 and you can tell me about it on the way there."

"It's a date." At her startled glance, he added, "And don't bother to bathe in coffee on my account." Her husky laughter floated back to him as she exited his quarters.

*****

The next morning, Chakotay was reviewing the PADD B'E had submitted when it suddenly occurred to him it was past 0630. Concerned that he had misunderstood the captain, and that he was the one who was supposed to stop by for her, he reached for the comm badge on his jacket slung over a chair. He had just touched it when it chirped, almost like it had been activated by the mere brush of his fingers.

"Janeway to Chakotay."

Did her voice sound huskier than usual? "Chakotay here. Was I supposed to stop by for you?" He almost teased her about taking too much time to prepare her coffee bath when he realized she might not be alone.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not going to be able to meet you this morning for breakfast."

He waited a second, but there seemed to be no further explanation forthcoming. "Is something wrong?"

There was a pause of a few seconds and he wondered if the connection had dropped out when she finally replied. "No. Everything's fine, Commander. I'll see you on the bridge. Janeway out."

Chakotay felt like he'd been slapped. So, it was back to 'Commander.' Maybe she had someone with her, but she'd occasionally called him by his name in front of others. Somehow he just knew in his gut that something had happened to make her withdraw, and he had learned to trust that gut instinct while in the Maquis; it had kept him alive on more than one occasion. Was she having doubts about him? Had she found some obscure protocol that prohibited even friendship between commanding officers? Was there more trouble regarding the crew that he was being excluded from? No. His instincts were telling him this had to do with Kathryn Janeway, the person, not the commanding officer. He sighed, feeling a little like someone had snatched the new baby of their relationship from his hands before it even had a chance to be properly born. Obviously a friendship with her was not something that would go in a straight line, but would have a lot of loops and zigzags.

Contrary to her words, he did not see her on the bridge; he was waylaid by couple of the crew inquiring about changing quarters, and by the time he got that sorted out and stepped off the turbolift, the captain was already sequestered in her ready room. Not a peep, not a hail, was heard the entire morning. It was one of those rare times when absolutely nothing was happening, and while it was not unusual for the captain to spend extended time reading and researching in her ready room, there was a strain to this total silence that the whole bridge crew felt. It was a relief not to be under attack or running for their lives, but all the same, in this case, he knew that silence was not golden.

When the early lunch shift left and returned with still no sign of the captain, Chakotay decided it was time to breach the fortress, if only under the guise of getting her to discuss the proposed plan by B'Elanna. He was positive the captain would not have eaten yet, so maybe he could draw her out for a lunch meeting in place of the breakfast meeting. Tuvok was on his break, so he turned the bridge over to Paris as the next senior officer.

It took so long for the doors to open that he'd been about to ring a second time. Although the temperature in her ready room was comfortably warm, the deadness in her voice chilled him.

"What is it, Commander?"

Then she looked up. Not directly at him, but somewhere over his shoulder. Still, it was enough that he could clearly see this was not the face of someone angry or upset, but of someone in great pain, a hurt so deep it could hardly be expressed. The wall surrounding her was for protection, for holding herself together. He didn't care if she came apart - it might be better if she did - he was going to break through. "I think that's my question, Kathryn."

Janeway's eyes shifted to the concerned expression on her first officer's face. Kathryn. The name she'd given him permission to use when they were alone, as a first step toward becoming more than just colleagues, but friends. Captains were always supposed to be strong and to stand alone, but friends didn't shut each other out. The handsome, caring face before her grew blurry and for some reason, she couldn't see him well any more. It was like opening her eyes underwater. She couldn't be crying; that was ridiculous. She rarely cried, and certainly never in front of others, so there had to be something wrong with her eyes. Of course, that was it.

A strong hand was under elbow assisting her to stand. Then a muscular arm around her back helped her to walk in the direction of her couch, although she couldn't see it. After she was seated, the support momentarily disappeared, causing her to sag like a broken toy. Something warm and wonderful smelling was pressed into her cold hands. "Drink this," the dark velvet voice said, then large hands encircled hers and assisted her to take a sip, then another. Vulcan spice tea. How funny; Chakotay giving her Vulcan spice tea.

After a minute and a few more sips, her vision cleared to find him sitting close beside her on the couch - watching, waiting. Patience, comfort, and strength exuded from him, and she had to blink her eyes once more. Taking a breath, she raised a shaky hand to tuck a stray lock behind her ear. Even her hair had been uncooperative this morning. She set the mug on the table.

"Tell me," was all he said, but it was enough to make her come unglued. It was impossible to hold back the very uncaptainly sob that broke from her chest. Her words were halting.

"When I check for messages each morning, I've programmed my console to also give me the date according to both the new and the old calendars. Today is my mother's birthday."

Chakotay watched the amazing sight of his captain bursting into tears. But this wasn't really his captain; this was Kathryn. Without a moment's thought or hesitation, he pulled her into his arms and then she was shaking and snuffling like a hurt child. He never said a word, just held her and rubbed her back. When the storm had played out, he eased back, pressing a tissue into one of her hands and the mug of tea into the other.

"Feel better?" he asked.

Blowing her nose, she nodded. She looked better, even with the red swollen eyes. The shroud of ice that had been entombing her had melted away in the heat of her tears.

They had been out here for more than a year now, yet he didn't recall her going through something like this before. "How did you manage to get through this date last year?"

She gave a short humorless laugh. "A year ago we were so busy battling the Kazon and the Vidiians that I missed her birthday by almost a month before I was even aware of it. I don't know why this has hit me so hard."

"Everyone has their breaking point, Kathryn. For B'Elanna, it was the first time she replicated banana pancakes on Voyager."

Kathryn stared at him, astonished. "B'Elanna cried?"

"For about ten seconds. Then she tried to put her fist through a bulkhead."

"That sounds more like the B'Elanna I've come to know."

She was starting to sound more like herself, so he continued. "For Tabor, it was anniversary of his mother's death. Cried so hard, I thought he'd make himself…" He stopped at the sight of her horrified expression.

"Oh, gods, Chakotay. I am so selfish. Here am I blubbering about missing my mother's birthday while your mother is…"

"Don't, Kathryn," he cut her off. "Yes, her death is like a constant ache in my stomach that I'll probably never completely get over, but my loss does not nullify yours. Your pain is every bit as real as mine."

It was with absolutely certainty that Janeway knew, that as kind, loyal, and supportive as Tuvok could be, he wouldn't have a clue what to do with a crying captain. The outpouring of her emotions would have been very distressing for him and convinced him even more of the inherent weakness of them.

Janeway regarded her first officer - no, her friend - for a few seconds. In a very real sense, they were both motherless. Another small, yet not so small, point of identification. Actually, so was her entire crew. "Tell me something about your mother?" she asked.

It was almost like watching one of Tom's old movies, the way his expression changed and shifted as he mentally sorted through the memories. How would he describe the woman who had given him birth and influenced the man he had become? Somehow, she felt that in knowing something about this long dead woman, she'd be learning more about the man Chakotay.

What to say, he wondered? At last a particular memory surfaced that he knew would be perfect. "My mother valued honesty above everything. She felt that lying damaged the soul, like soot on a white wall. There is only one time I ever remember hearing her lie. One day, my mother and I sat on the verandah in front of our house. I had helped her to shell a bag of nuts that my sisters had gathered earlier, and she sent me to put the shells into the compost. When I returned, a peddler was sitting beside my mother, helping himself to the nuts while pointing out the different wares on his cart parked at the foot of the stairs." Chakotay could almost feel the dust between his bare toes again, the heat of the sun on his shirt where he perched on verandah railing.

"My mother just listened to him, all the while watching the hand dipping in and out of the bag of nuts until they were nearly gone. Finally the peddler smacked his lips and asked what kind of nuts these were, they were so tasty. Without a pause, she said, 'I don't know. I don't really like nuts. I just suck the chocolate off them.'"

The tinkling sound of her laughter was like water to the desert of his soul. He knew he would give every replicator ration he had if he could hear it each day. A new ambition had entered his life - to make her laugh, to lighten her burden.

"Was that a real story?" she gasped.

"Did she really say that, you mean? Yes, she did, only I found out later she stole the idea from an old Earth joke."

"Tsk, tsk. Lying and stealing." Her crooked grin came out. "I like your mother already."

Chakotay chuckled at her teasing. There had been little opportunity for this side of his captain to appear lately. "Tell me what your mother's like." He didn't want to make Kathryn sad again, but it might help for her to share a bit.

Her expression became contemplative. "She was a mathematician, taught for a few years. Energetic, yet much more patient than I am. My father once told me that the day they met, he finally understood what sunshine was."

He could certainly understand that. "What does she look like?"

"Like me." She made a face. "Or more correctly, I look like her."

"Then she must be a beautiful woman." With a shock, he heard the words tumble out of his mouth like stallions escaping from a corral before he had any hope of reining them back in.

Kathryn felt his words shimmer through her like a heat wave. It was the first time he had ever paid her such an open compliment. She was sure that it was. He really was a fine man. Kindhearted, smart, funny. Incredibly handsome. He was…dangerous. There was that word again. She pushed herself to her feet. "Chakotay, thank you. I…I needed this and I appreciate it, but I really should get back to…"

"Go wash your face and let's go see what's left for lunch in the mess hall."

"Excuse me?" She wasn't used to taking orders from anyone around here, and her hands came up to her hips in an obstinate stance. "Since when do you order the captain around, mister?"

That deadly dimpled grim appeared. "It's part of my job to look after the captain, but that was directed more at Kathryn. Although in this case, I think lunch will satisfy the needs of them both." As if on cue, her stomach growled. "See?" he finished, pointing at her concave stomach. "Even your body agrees."

Throwing up her hands, she conceded. "All right, all right." As she headed for her washroom, she spoke over her shoulder. "Find the PADD with B'Elanna's proposal on my desk, would you? Does she have all the materials she needs for this? How long is this likely to take, and how many people do you think we'll need to pull from other departments? I wonder if we can do this without taking warp offline."

Chakotay searched through the rubble that was the captain's desk as the peppering of questions and comments continued unabated over the sound of the sink running. Captain Janeway's stomach might be empty, but her head certainly wasn't.

*****

The doors to the mess hall swished open, and the command team strode through. Chakotay's voice was incredulous. "You've got to be kidding! What did she do next?"

"I could hear her clear across the room, and so could everyone else. The admiral said, 'Ambassador, you have exactly two seconds to get your hand off my ass before I shove it up yours.' It's the one and only time I was ever in total agreement with Admiral Alynna Nechayev. The Ambassador from Yanishka gave new meaning to the term, 'first contact.'"

As they approached the counter, both looked around the mess hall, then glanced back at each other. It looked like an armed camp, only without the armaments. In the center, like some kind of DMZ, sat Torres and Kim, the sole holdouts against the reactivated division. Maquis sat on one side, original 'fleeters on the other. Only Kes and Neelix crossed the invisible lines as they moved from table to table, and the looks of concern on their faces were clear.

Janeway could see the pain in Chakotay's eyes at the refractured state of their crew, and cursed Seska for the thousandth time. Damn that female for hurting him. Damn her and Jonas for resurrecting the walls of suspicion and mistrust in her crew when they had worked so hard to become one strong unit. She had to find a way past this obstacle, because there was no way in hell she would allow that imposter to continue to wreak havoc on Voyager's crew, especially when the Cardassian was no longer even onboard. Placing her hand on Chakotay's arm, she smiled at him gently.

When they had seated themselves at a table, she stared at what was on her plate. "Do you have any idea what this is?"

"None. And I don't think I want to know, either." He shoved a forkful into his mouth and tried unsuccessfully to keep from grimacing.

At his reaction, she commented, "Well, I guess I won't be eating that. What I really want, is a bacon cheese burger and French fries drowning in malt vinegar and catsup."

"Captain!" he remonstrated with her. "I'm a vegetarian, remember? You would eat such a thing in front of me?" he teased.

Shrugging, she replied, "You could always turn your back, if it'll make you feel better."

"So what's stopping you?"

"I need my replicator rations for more important things." She studied the pile of purple goo on her fork.

"Like coffee."

"Yes, like coffee."

They both decided lunch was something better dealt with quickly, so they didn't linger. As they were about stand, the captain asked, "Who was your favorite instructor at the Academy?"

Chakotay hadn't thought about his instructors in a long time. "I didn't really have a favorite, although I can certainly tell you who was my least favorite."

"And that would be…?"

"The one and only - thank the spirits - Lieutenant Nimembeh, my prep squad instructor. If you could survive him, you could survive anything."

Janeway stopped in mid stride, a vacant look on her face, as though her brain was clicking through files. "Nimembeh. Nimembeh. I'm sure that…ah, yes, I remember now." Taking hold of him by the wrist, she dragged him over to the table where Harry and B'Elanna sat. The two younger officers looked up in surprise at the arrival of their commanding officers.

"Ensign Kim, I believe you and the commander have something in common. A certain Academy instructor by the name of Nimembeh. I'm sure you both have some interesting stories you could swap." She turned to her chief engineer and put her hand on the young woman's shoulder. "Lieutenant Torres, how about you and I head down to engineering and have a closer look at your proposal? It sounds quite fascinating, but I'm wondering if you've taken into consideration possible instability in the dilithium crystals when you combine…"

Chakotay stood looking in bemusement as the whirlwind that was Kathryn Janeway strode out of the mess hall, B'Elanna practically running to keep up with her. Instead of battering down the walls of division and mistrust, Kathryn had simply hopped over them. A sudden realization came to him that he was going to have to be very, very careful. He had a feeling that if he were to somehow spend any extended time with her outside of the command structure, it would be all too easy to fall in love with her. And that would surely never do.

Looking around him, at the table to the left of Harry's sat Yossa and Ken Dalby. To the right, were Susan Nicoletti and Rollins. They were all watching him, as well as listening in. The irony was not lost on him in the least that Captain Kathryn Janeway, the epitome of Starfleet, had just walked out with B'Elanna Torres, former Maquis, while here he stood beside Ensign Harry Kim, the Academy's finest of his class. He pulled out a chair and straddled it.

"So, Harry. How many laps did Nimembeh make you run?"

The End

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