Chapter Text
The very public relationship between Lieutenants Paris and Torres sets off a flurry of hasty romantic pairings, as though everyone on the ship has suddenly realized that they’d like to have sex again before they die. Kathryn notices it only obliquely until the day that Ensign Cartier is telling her about some modifications to the warp coils and he suddenly says, “You’re looking very beautiful today.”
It's been such a long time since someone made a romantic advance—not counting the holo-novel kiss and its disastrous aftermath—that she reacts without recognizing the intent behind his words. “Thank you, Ensign, but that’s not relevant to the warp coils.” Seven must be rubbing off on her. At least she didn’t say ‘Beauty is irrelevant.’
“And you were so smart, saving everyone from that security simulation on the holodeck. I’m working on my own two-person holo. Would you be willing to run through some of it with me and give me your opinion?”
This conversation has taken a strange turn. “I think Mr. Tuvok would be better qualified to advise you.”
Cartier looks a little desperate. “I have a lot of replicator rations saved up,” he says. “We could have dinner in my quarters.”
She finally realizes what’s happening. “Ensign Cartier, that would be…inappropriate.” He was Maquis, so maybe he doesn’t know. “Starfleet regulations prohibit any…fraternization of that kind between officers and crew under their supervision.” When she sees that he’s about to keep talking, she adds, “The answer is no, Ensign. Dismissed.”
He leaves, looking a little crestfallen. Kathryn would chalk it up to a freak occurrence until it happens again with Lieutenant Carey, whom she firmly reminds that he’s married and who should very much know better, and then again with Ensign Sprague, who’s about twenty-two years old and looks near tears when she says sharply, “No.”
Kathryn is worried that it’s something she’s doing until the time that the turbolift opens and she sees that the Delaney sisters have cornered Chakotay. Jenny whispers into his ear and Chakotay smiles resolutely, but Kathryn can see the discomfort. “Chakotay!” She waves him over.
“Thanks for the rescue,” he says, and they don’t discuss it further.
She sees it happen again as she turns the corner on her way to the holodeck. Seven is standing close to Chakotay—very close, it seems like barely an inch between them—and puts her hand on his lower back. He laughs and says something quietly to her. Kathryn turns and walks away, her mood soured. She should have remembered, Chakotay has a different attitude toward this kind of thing. Yes, hologram-Seska modified his behavior to be more extreme, but he’s admitted that he was in a relationship with his subordinate while he was a Maquis. She should talk to him about it. Seven may also have a different attitude toward sexual relationships, but she can’t allow that kind of blatant violation of the rules.
When he comes to her ready room that evening and begins, “Kathryn, I don’t believe you’ve eaten dinner yet,” and smiles his soft smile, she decides to broach the subject.
“Chakotay. I need to talk to you about your interactions with the Delaney sisters, and Seven of Nine—”
He grimaces. “I heard it’s been happening to you too. Cartier, and Carey, and Sprague?”
She’s momentarily thrown. “Yes, they’ve behaved—inappropriately.”
Chakotay nods and sits down on the other side of her desk. “I’ve been considering the problem.”
“The problem?” This isn’t how she expected the conversation to go.
“Seven explained what’s going on. Some of the crew see me, and apparently you, as…romantic prospects.”
“That’s preposterous! We’re in command of a Starfleet vessel! I know that things were—different, among the Maquis, but everyone here agreed to abide by Starfleet’s regulations.”
He flinches at that mention of the Maquis and his smile disappears. Kathryn hates it when that happens. “I believe that even among the original Starfleet officers, those particular regulations are beginning to lose their appeal. Particularly when it looks like we’re still going to have a long trip home.”
Kathryn leans back in her chair and closes her eyes. What a mess. She massages her neck for a moment and then hears Chakotay approach. He puts his hands on her shoulders, her neck, and massages gently. A shiver runs through her at how good it feels, and she remembers New Earth, the way his big hands had felt on her then. She’s only indulged herself by letting him massage her neck a few times since then, only when it was very painful. “You said—ahh—you’ve been considering the problem?”
“Yes.” His hands work their way up to the base of her hairline, until his fingers are threaded into her hair. “It would be very inappropriate for either of us to engage in that kind of relationship with a subordinate.”
“Yes,” she mumbles. It’s hard not to feel half-drunk when he does this. “Highly inappropriate.”
“To avoid any more advances from the crew, I’m suggesting that you and I—pretend to be involved.”
She sits bolt upright in her chair and turns to stare at Chakotay. He’s lifted his hands away in a don’t-shoot gesture and he takes a step back. “You’re my subordinate.”
“Yes. But respectfully, Kathryn, I don’t think the crew views me as your subordinate in the same way that everyone else is.” There’s his soft smile again, a little broader. “I think it’s the best way out of this situation. But of course it’s up to you.”
* * * * *
It’s easy to get the rumor started. They stand very close together in a place that Neelix will be able to spot them. Chakotay pulls her into a quick kiss, easy, affectionate, like they’ve done it a hundred times before. His lips are very soft, but she barely has time to appreciate them. Then he leans back minutely and Kathryn says against his lips, “Did he see?”
There’s a very loud clang and they both turn to see that Neelix has dropped a metal crate of—well, Kathryn hesitates to call them vegetables. “Captain! Commander! I’m so sorry to interrupt!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Neelix.” Chakotay touches his thumb to his lips thoughtfully. Kathryn can’t help but track the movement with her eyes.
“I don’t want to hear about this in the hallways,” she tells Neelix. “This is a—private matter.”
“Of course, of course not! My lips are sealed! You can trust me,” he assures them.
Within the hour, the entire ship knows.