**For disclaimers and notes see part one
"Good evening, Captain."
Janeway nodded at Tuvok and the rest of her senior officers as she entered the briefing room, walking quickly to her customary chair at the head of the table. The chair to her immediate left was conspicuously empty, a fact she knew the others were well aware of. She took a deep breath, willing her body to relax, and folded her hands on the table before her as she waited for Paris to stop yawning.
"I called this meeting to inform you of a change in our senior staff before I announce it to the crew at large. Effective immediately, Lieutenant Commander Tuvok will assume the duties of the first officer. I have accepted Commander Chakotay's resignation."
If she had announced that she was planning on allowing Seven of Nine to assimilate the entire crew into a new Borg collective, she couldn't have shocked them any more. Tuvok, who had been informed of the change earlier, was the only one who showed no reaction whatsoever. Harry Kim's mouth dropped open. Paris opened his mouth, shut it, and opened it again, shaking his head in disbelief. All the color drained from B'Elanna's face, and her hands gripped the arms of her chair tightly. She was the first to react verbally.
"Chakotay's what? What the hell is going on?"
"Lieutenant." The steel in Janeway's voice was enough to snap the entire group back to attention. "Chakotay's reasons for resigning are personal, and if you feel a desire to know them, I suggest you ask him. He will be reassigned in a civilian capacity once a suitable position can be determined. I don't intend to inform the rest of the crew until tomorrow, so I would appreciate your absolute discretion, have I made myself clear?" Her gaze pinned each in turn, but no one said anything. "Dismissed. Tuvok, you have the bridge. I'll see the rest of you at 0600."
B'Elanna, Tom and Harry left quickly, each looking a little shell-shocked, and Janeway met the eyes of her new first officer.
"Captain, are you feeling well?"
"As well as can be expected, Tuvok. I'm sure the crew will adjust in time."
Tuvok steepled the tips of his fingers together. "Commander Chakotay is highly respected amongst the crew. I am not certain that his resignation is healthy for morale, particularly that of the former Maquis."
Janeway looked away to stare out the viewport. "It was his choice. His decision."
...his hands roamed over her body...her back was pressed against the wall...her senses slammed into her like waves against the rocks...
"Captain?"
Her head jerked back in his direction to see something resembling concern--as close as a Vulcan ever expressed physically--shadowing his face. She raised her hand slightly. "I'm fine, my friend. I'll need your help to make this a smooth transition for everyone."
"You will have it, in every area." He stood and headed towards the door, turning back just before it opened. "Please contact me if you have the need to talk about what happened tonight."
After he had gone, Janeway engaged the privacy lock on the door and leaned far back in her chair. Her hand drifted up to her mouth as she fought down another wave of nausea thinking about what had happened just hours before. The first officer that she had trusted--that she had cherished, even, as a dear friend--had changed so completely, so quickly. She didn't recognize the man who had used words to wound her, who had turned a caress into a painful error, who had picked up the pieces of their precariously balanced relationship and hurled them into space. He had asked for something she could not give, and then he had taken it. She couldn't forgive it; she could barely deal with it on a rational level. Part of her wanted to overturn the table; part of her wanted to dissolve into a weeping mass; part of her wanted to eject him from the shuttle bay; part of wanted to take his rank bar, go to his quarters, and wage a private war until they were both healed.
Perhaps they had gone too far for that now. He had taken the hatred that had been born in him on that alien planet and embraced it so tightly she wasn't sure if he could see the end of it. All of his old feelings about the Cardassians seemed to be reborn with a new focus, taking the Chakotay she had known and twisting him into an angry shadow of the noble and courageous man who had stood beside her for the last three years. This went far beyond the "angry warrior", and this time, she had been unable to help him find peace. Unable, Kathryn, or unwilling? The thought rose unbidden to the fringes of her mind.
Just how far did her responsibility to the crew extend? How far into personal feelings was she supposed to delve? How often should she weigh the well-being of her people against the cost to herself? Chakotay hadn't even reached out to her because he knew she would--or could--not give what he needed. But which was more unfair: his asking, or her refusing? And what exactly was he asking from her?
You know the answer to that.
A vision crept into her consciousness, of two hands clasped over a table, and a tender confession hidden behind the words of a fabricated legend.
He had asked it of her then, and had let it be. She had thought she had answered him, but realized that she never really had. And over and over, she had given him signs to believe that the answer might someday be "yes" instead of "no". She marveled at her boldness before they had encountered the Borg.
Three years ago I didn't even know your name. Now I can't imagine a day without you.
She said things like that to him, and then accused him of betrayal and abandonment when he disagreed with her. She used emotional blackmail to get him to go along with her, and when his beliefs and convictions caused him to go against her, she was not understanding. Where in Starfleet regulations were those tactics listed as acceptable command behavior? Where did it give her permission to use her first officer's feelings to her advantage? And, most importantly, when had she changed enough to allow it to happen without being horrified at her own behavior?
She was conscious of a prejudice she held when it came to Chakotay. It manifested itself in different ways. When she had first become aware of it, her reaction was to draw back, to defer to Tuvok rather than to him, to imply a mistrust, to leave him out of the "inner circle". After New Earth, surprisingly, she had treated him more as an equal; perhaps that was in compensation for what she could not give him even then. After those terrifying days when they feared that the Vori had killed him, she had realized that his death would harm her in more ways that she ever cared to imagine. Tuvok's suggestion that he may not have survived the shuttle crash had enraged her. If they had found him dead, would she have been able to go on?
Yes, she concluded. She would have gone on, for the sake of the crew and their journey toward home. She would have straightened her shoulders, picked up her crew, and resumed the journey. But she would never be the same, and a part of her would remain with him. Always.
When, she wondered, had he become more a part of her than a part of her life?
And what was she going to do about it now?
Her thoughts returned to their last encounter, the memory of his mouth on hers returning suddenly. Her stomach clenched into a knot as she admitted to herself that for just a few seconds, she had been incredibly aroused. She had thrust her hands into his hair to hold him closer to her. And then reality had sunk in, passion turned to outraged pain in the space of a breath. She had pushed him away, as she had been for a year. Now not only had she lost her friend, she had lost her first officer.
Slowly she pushed back from the table, shoulders automatically straightening into command stance, chin lifting slightly. Picking up a discarded padd, she strode out the door to the bridge. Perhaps she would take the duty shift after all. She couldn't chance going to her quarters, with him so close by. The wall that separated them would not be enough in this situation. On the bridge she could retain control until her thoughts were no longer a tangled mess. Besides, if she knew B'Elanna, Chakotay was not alone at the moment.
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"Torres to Chakotay." A few impatient seconds passed. "Torres to Chakotay." She raised up a hand and pounded on his door. "Chakotay, I know you're in there. I'll transport in if I have to." She folded her arms, glaring at the closed doors, and slapped her comm badge a third time. "Torres to Engineering. I need a--" The door slid open. "Belay that, Engineering. Torres out." She stepped through the opening quickly before it could shut again.
"Can't you take a hint, B'Ela?"
"Could I ever? Chakotay, what the hell is this about you--" B'Elanna stopped in the middle of the room, staring at him. He was sitting at the table before the replicator, cradling his head in his hands, and the look on his face could only be described as one of total despair. And most unsettling of all, his Starfleet uniform was folded on the table before him and he was once again wearing Maquis clothing. "Chakotay, what's the matter?" She crossed the room quickly, pulling up a chair next to him. "What happened?"
He raised his eyes to hers, and she saw unshed tears glittering within the onyx depths. She drew in a breath slowly--she had never, in all their years together, seen him upset like this. What the hell went on? "Chakotay?"
"I really don't want to talk about it, B'Ela."
B'Elanna fought down her normal waves of impatience at his resistance. This man had put himself and his reputation on the line for her time and again, and he deserved nothing less than the best she could give him right now. Gently she reached out and pulled his hands down, taking them in her own. "Chakotay. Please. Why did you resign your commission?"
He looked down at their joined hands for a long moment, finally expelling his breath on a long sigh. "I am not fit for duty, and after what's happened, I shouldn't be anywhere near the Captain. It's better this way."
"Better how? With Tuvok in your chair, and in your place at Janeway's side?"
His mouth twisted in a sardonic smile. "I have no place at Janeway's side. Tuvok is just returning to what was always his."
"This doesn't sound like you. I don't know completely what happened to you down there on that planet, but I know that you are different now. Very different."
Chakotay pulled free of her grasp and stood up, pacing restlessly around the room. "Let's see--I was manipulated again for someone else's purposes. I was made to believe in a cause that had nothing to do with me, to get involved in someone else's war. Then I find out nearly everything was fabricated, that really the only true thing was the hate. And now I can't get rid of it. It's like I'm back fighting the Cardassians--I thought these feelings were safely in the Alpha Quadrant. I can't let go of it."
"What did you do?" B'Elanna asked, her voice full of quiet concern.
He crossed to the viewport, staring out blindly, arms crossed protectively on his chest. "I--can't tell you completely. Not because I don't trust you, B'Ela, you know I do. You should know, anyway."
"I know."
"It was personal, between the Captain and I. I--don't want anyone to know." He ran his hands across his face and through his hair, dragging them down the back of his neck. "I'm ashamed, B'Ela," he whispered. "I don't know who I am anymore."
You are Commander Chakotay of the Starship Voyager. You are a scientist, an explorer. You are not a killer.
B'Elanna got up, crossed the room, led him to the couch. Sat down beside him. Took his hands again. "Chakotay, you can tell me as much or as little as you want."
He gripped her hands, hard, and then relaxed a little as he met her eyes. The half-Klingon looked back at him, her eyes straightforward, honest. He knew that she would lay her life down if he asked. He would do the same for her. It was a loyalty that had been forged years before, a friendship that had been born out of tragedy and strife. He knew that she would listen to him, and not judge. Perhaps he could tell her. A deep breath, and he could tell her.
"She has been trying to talk to me for days," he began quietly. "I wouldn't listen to her, wouldn't talk to her. Didn't want her friendly concern. I pushed her away, more than once. I--"
She squeezed his hands again, offering support. She knew why he had rejected the help, although he didn't realize she knew it. "Go on. It's okay."
He nodded. Perhaps it would be. "I asked to be moved to beta shift so I wouldn't feel her eyes on me. So I wouldn't have to hear the unspoken questions, or deal with the answers I couldn't give."
"I talked to her about that."
He jerked a little, surprised. "You did?"
The corners of her mouth lifted slightly. "I thought you were on beta as some kind of punishment. I wanted to make sure it wasn't true."
His mouth moved a little in answer to her half-smile. "My hero." His face quickly sobered again. "It was a good way to avoid her, to avoid the problems...it gave me extra time in the day to try and deal with the afteraffects as best as I could. But I couldn't meditate, I couldn't find my spirit guide. I tried program after program on the holodeck. The nightmares were...formidable." He breathed in shakily, shoulders heaving once. "She came here again yesterday between shifts. Right after I left you in the mess hall. I didn't want to listen to her, didn't want what she offered. Wanted what she wouldn't--couldn't--give me. So I...I..." He closed his eyes tightly, his hands clasping hers almost painfully. "I tried to take it."
His eyes opened, meeting hers. He saw the shock within them. "No, B'Ela, not that. I could never do that, to her, to anyone. But I hurt her. Not physically. I hurt her." His eyes closed again, trying to shut it out. "I hurt her. I vowed to protect her, to support her, and when she tried to do the same for me, I hurt her. I'll never forget the look in her eyes."
B'Elanna stared at him, her head spinning. Chakotay sat before her, broken, his eyes closed tightly, his hands wrapped around hers. The Vori really did a number on him, she thought. For him to do anything to Janeway that would hurt her, that would make her accept his resigning his commission, they must have taken him far beyond his usual self. She didn't know what to say or do to make it right for him. She slid forward a little, released his hands, and pulled him to her. She held him, for a long moment. "Thank you for telling me." She leaned back a little so she could look at him. "Now you have to tell her."
Chakotay shook his head. "She told me not to come near her. She doesn't want to talk to me." He sighed, a little of the tension and wildness fading from his eyes. "I just have to ask Tuvok for some kind of civilian assignment, far, far from the bridge."
"That's ridiculous. No one on board this ship wants you to take a civilian assignment, not even Tuvok. I can't believe you are just giving up."
"Sometimes it's better to just let the rabbit run, B'Ela."
She snorted. "This is no time for one of your obscure Indian references, Chakotay. Come on." She stood up, pulling him with her.
"Where are we going?"
"To work out some of this hatred you say you can't let go of--although it seems to be pretty self-directed now. And then we'll talk about the Captain."
"No, we won't."
"We'll argue about that again later."