Chapter Text
Chakotay takes a long sonic shower, much longer than necessary, to remove all the various sticky fluids smeared on his body. A hot bath would have been much nicer. He tries to distract himself. He opens the copy of the teachings of Surak that Tuvok gave him, when they were still Maquis, and promptly shuts it again. He stretches, in the hopes that he won’t wake up in too much pain. He looks at a report on the signs of ancient civilization on a planet that they visited recently and stares at it for a good fifteen minutes before he realizes that he’s been reading the same page over and over. He listens for the sound of a person getting out of the bathtub—even through these thin walls, he doesn’t think he would hear it.
He stands, paralyzed, at the door to his own quarters. Finally, he walks out his own door and turns. Then he knocks at the door to her quarters and she calls, “Come in!” She’s curled up in a chair with a gilded book, turning the pages very carefully. Her hair is in a thick braid hanging over one shoulder. When she looks up, he can see the tension starting.
“Don’t worry, we’re cured, remember?”
“I do.” Her voice is very dry. “What do you want, Chakotay?” It’s a jarring change from the woman who was healing his bruises an hour and a half ago.
Chakotay keeps a careful distance from her. “I realize that usually, we just don’t talk about it afterward.”
Janeway closes the book slowly and places it just so on the table next to her. “I don’t know what there is to talk about.”
“You heard the Doctor. He said that the gas didn’t just—make everyone lose control in different ways. That it only intensified pre-existing desires.”
“Thus the state of our food stores and the very public displays.” She’s not wrong about that. “Sit down, Chakotay. You’re making me tense by looming there.” She pushes a chair out a little with her foot, and he sits down next to her. “It’s not exactly a surprise to either of us, that we would gravitate toward each other.” There’s a weighted pause before she adds, “Sexually.”
“I need you to say it to me, Kathryn.”
Her eyes flick away. “Say what?”
“That you don’t—feel the same way. Feel any of it. That if we were two ordinary people, you still wouldn’t want me that way.” Chakotay takes a deep breath. “Look at me and tell me you don’t care and I’ll—get past it.”
“Why do you need me to say that for you to get past it?” Her spine is straight, bladed, her chin held high, and she’s looking just past the side of his face.
He wants to touch her hand. “You’re the smartest woman I know, and by far the most determined. If you want something enough, you make it happen through sheer force of will. If you tell me you don’t want it—I’ll know that it’ll never happen. And I’ll find a way to give up.”
Janeway does meet his eyes then, and she’s very pale, her eyes bright. There’s still a bruise just under her collar that he must have missed in all the excitement. “I,” she starts. She’s silent for a long time, and her hand closes convulsively on the arm of her chair, but she doesn’t look away. “You know I can’t say it,” she admits eventually. “Or you wouldn’t have asked.”
“You’re giving me a lot of credit,” he says hoarsely. “For knowing how you feel.” His heart is pounding and he reaches over to her hand. She turns it palm-up and squeezes his hand in her own, interlacing their fingers. They sit like that for a moment and then she stands, pulling him with her, until their faces are very close.
“So what am I supposed to do about this through my sheer force of will?” She says it against his neck, her lips almost brushing his pulse point, and even with the gas gone the feeling sends a bolt through his body.
“Consider the facts, and take the logical course of action.”
He feels her laugh. “Tuvok isn’t the first thing on my mind right now.”
“Facts. There’s no one I’d rather be around than you. There’s no one I trust more than you, even when I think you’re making the wrong choice. After today, half the ship has seen us—together. Including defiling the Captain’s chair.”
“Tuvok said he would delete the security recordings on the bridge.”
“Yes, I’m sure that will stop members of our crew who’ve heard a rumor about sex on the bridge from finding and restoring them.”
“Fact: Starfleet protocol forbids any relationship between a commanding officer and her subordinate.” She punctuates the statement by kissing his neck very lightly.
“I’m frequently insubordinate.” She laughs at that and he braces his other arm around her, pulls her even closer. “A fact that you don’t like and don’t want to believe: the overwhelming odds are that it will be our children who bring Voyager home, not us.”
“Are you going to tell me I have a duty to contribute to the next generation of crew?” Janeway tilts her head back so she can meet his eyes and he sees the smile, the raised eyebrow.
“I was going to say a duty to model a committed relationship,” he says, “but I’m open to the rest of it too. You told me Starfleet tried not to interfere in the personal lives of crew.”
“Except the captain.”
“I mean this sincerely—who will care? Starfleet? I’m not even a member of Starfleet anymore. Whatever field commissions you’ve handed out to the Maquis, Starfleet isn’t going to honor them.” She starts to argue and he puts his finger to her lips very gently. “We can debate that another time. Are you worried you’re somehow—coercing me into this?”
Janeway does laugh. “No, of all things, I’m not worried about that.” A shadow crosses her face. “Chakotay—I have very few things to hold onto out here. Nothing but the principles of Starfleet. If I lose sight of them—”
“We have our entire crew to keep us in line,” Chakotay says. “Kathryn.”
Her face brightens again. “You see, insubordination. I never gave you permission to call me Kathryn.”
“You did. In the shuttle. I just haven’t—exercised the privilege often. Captain.”
“And what if I order you to call me Captain all the time instead?”
He puts his lips to her ear. “I’m happy to say ‘Yes, Captain,’ when you tell me to take the conn, or when you tell me to get on my knees, or when you order me to lead the away team, or when I’m deep inside you and you tell me not to come yet—” He feels her shiver.
“It’s good to know you’ll be so compliant.” Her voice is husky. She breathes in deeply and steps back. “Give me a day,” she says. “A day to think about what you’ve said, to actually—consider the possibility. The implications. I promise I’ll think about it instead of just dismissing it.”
“A day,” he agrees.