The BLTS Archive- Command Styles
by monkee (wiecek@earthlink.net)

---

Disclaimers: Paramount owns Star Trek Voyager, all of its characters,
and, unfortunately, Janeway's hair.

Author's notes: The hair-cutting scene contains images and phrases
from Michele Masterson's 'Contrition', my all-time favorite fanfic.
Tracy T. leant me the name 'Lannara'.

---
The Quintessential Captain
...the first year...
---

Captain Kathryn Janeway sighed heavily and glared at her hair. Her bun
was crooked. Again. On mornings like this one, she often fantasized
about just hacking it off right at the shoulders. It was far more
trouble than it was worth. She was going to be late for her own staff
meeting.

Swearing softly, she undid it and let it fall down her back. She
reached for her brush, but was distracted by her own reflection. She
felt like a completely different person when her hair was down, and of
course that was exactly why she didn't cut it. She loved retiring to
her quarters after a long day of being the Captain, pulling out the
restraining pins that held the bun in place, and letting her hair
fall. It made her feel human again, after having to be responsible and
serious and 'larger than life' all day. Before she went to bed, she
always brushed it out for a couple of minutes, reveling in the
sensuous, silky feel of it.

She shook her head, snapping out of her reverie, and impatiently
pulled the brush through her hair, getting it into position for
another attempt. "Computer, time," she snapped.

"The time is 0728."

"Damn!" she hissed. She really was going to be late. Well, she didn't
have a choice. "Janeway to Chakotay."

"Chakotay here," he replied immediately. HE was probably already in
the briefing room, of course.

"Commander, I'm going to be a few minutes late," she said, wincing.
"Would you start the meeting?"

"Of course, Captain," he replied, "Is there a problem?"

"It's...nothing you can help me with, thank you," she said, trying not
to laugh at the prospect of explaining her predicament to a man who
had hair that was probably only a couple of centimeters long.

"Very well, Captain," he said. She could hear his smile right over the
comm-link.

"Thanks," she said, "Janeway out."

She gathered her hair up and turned it around slowly, carefully this
time, until the bun looked and felt about right, then set about the
task of pinning it securely into place.  As she worked, her thoughts
turned to Commander Chakotay. Asking him to be her First Officer was
the best decision that she'd made out here. He was a calm and
efficient command partner, and sensitive and insightful in his
dealings with the both crews, no, THE crew. Their crew. She marveled
at the fact that although they'd only known each other for a few
months, they already worked together smoothly, with a connection and a
camaraderie that she'd never had with any of her previous executive
officers. And as a person, he was warm, considerate and funny. She
enjoyed their harmless flirtations on the bridge. And there was no
denying that he was an attractive man. She smiled to herself -- she'd
overheard enough comments from the crew to know that more than a few
of them had noticed that as well. But Tuvok had mentioned that he
thought there might be a romantic affiliation between the Commander
and Lieutenant Seska in engineering. She frowned slightly at the
mirror. She didn't care for Seska. She couldn't quite put her finger
on it -- she was a capable engineer, certainly, but she just sounded a
little too...smooth. There was a belligerent undercurrent in her tone
of voice. Well, Chakotay's love life was certainly none of her
business, but she liked him, and wished he were involved with a nicer
person.

There. Much better. Every hair in place -- the quintessential Captain.
With a satisfied nod at her reflection, she turned to leave her
quarters. She took a brief detour over to her nightstand, and picked
up her photograph of Mark and Molly. She smiled sadly at it, and
touched the image of Mark's face gently with her finger. She put the
picture back, took a deep breath, and went out to start her day.

---
Changes
...two years later...
---

"Ha!" Janeway crowed triumphantly, from behind the bathroom door.

He smiled and shook his head, wondering just how he was supposed to
respond to that. She'd said it loud enough for him to hear, after all.
He was spared from having to come up with something when she emerged
from the room, wearing a dress, of all things, and with her hair loose
and hanging halfway down her back. He didn't know why it took him by
surprise - she was hardly going to walk around in her uniform down
here.

"I don't have to put it up anymore!" she told him, with a happy glint
in her eye. "EVER!"

He realized that she was talking about her hair, and didn't want to
dampen her unbridled enthusiasm by pointing out that they hoped to
find a cure for the virus and re-join the crew. It was impossible not
to smile at her. And he'd forgotten how good she looked in a dress. It
had probably been over a year since he'd seen her in one at some
ship's function. He tried not to stare at her legs. Or at anything
else, for that matter.

This situation was going to be very interesting. He'd always suspected
that underneath her congenial but professional exterior, there was a
complex and compelling woman aching to get out.  He'd respected and
admired his Captain from the first moment she'd appeared out of focus
on his viewscreen, and he'd long suspected that his feelings for the
woman within could be very complicated. Well, they were certainly
going to find out, now.

She looked over at him, probably surprised by his seeming inability to
speak -- then continued talking, effectively covering up the momentary
awkwardness. "I'm going to set a few of these traps -- try to get a
start on this research," she told him. "I'll be back in an hour and
then I PROMISE to help with the rest of the shelter."

"Take your time," he told her, "By the time you get back, I'll have
this replicator on-line and you can have a cup of..."

His voice trailed off as he watched what she was doing. She'd clamped
the PADD containing the Doctor's notes on the virus between her teeth
and had her hands up behind her head, deftly manipulating her hair
into a straight, loose braid. He marveled at the gesture -- it seemed
so feminine, yet she did it with her usual matter-of-factness and
efficiency.

"Amazing," he murmured.

"What?" she asked, genuinely confused.

"How do you do that?" he said, nodding towards her head.

Her eyes widened - then she laughed as she realized what he was
talking about. "Years of practice," she managed to say with the PADD
still between her teeth. She tied off the end of the braid with a
ribbon that he hadn't even seen in her hand, then retrieved the PADD
and picked up the case with the insect traps.

"Bye!" she said as she headed out the door.

"Goodbye...Kathryn," he replied, trying out the 'new' name. He
certainly wasn't going to go around calling THIS woman 'Captain'.

She turned back toward him at that and smiled at him. It was a smile
that he'd never seen before from her. Warm. Genuine. Dazzling. It
quite literally took his breath away for a moment. He shook himself,
inwardly, as he realized that he was staring at her in undisguised
appreciation. Quickly, he schooled his features into a more
respectable expression, but it was too late. She had seen it in his
eyes. Her smile faded a little, but didn't disappear completely. In
fact, she looked a little bit amused, for which he was grateful.

"See? That wasn't so bad, was it?" she asked him, once again filling
an uncomfortable silence with easy conversation.

He smiled in response. She took a breath, smiled again, then turned
and left the shelter.

---
The Quintessential Captain, Revisited
...three months later...
---

She'd stepped out of the bathroom so quietly that he didn't see her
standing there at first. When he did look up, the shock on his face
was evident. Voyager was due back in a couple of hours, and she'd
donned her uniform, and put her hair up. It felt completely wrong to
be standing in this room, on this planet, with this man, dressed like
this, but this was who she was now. She'd have to adjust. And so would
he.

Sadly, she watched his face -- saw his breath catch, saw him close his
eyes, as if to shut out her image and the pain it brought. When he
opened his eyes again, he looked around the room a little wildly,
anything to avoid her gaze. He had a somewhat claustrophobic look on
his face, and she knew he needed to get out, get away from this, even
before he said, "I...I'm going to take a walk. I'll be back soon." At
the door, he turned around, nodded sharply to her, and added,
"Captain."

With her eyes stinging, she watched as her angry warrior walked out
the door, knowing that when he returned, he would be her First Officer
again. He would be a warm and wonderful friend, but the deeper
relationship that they had begun to explore was lost to them now. She
knew that he hadn't meant to hurt her with her title -- but he had
nonetheless. She sat down at the small table and covered her mouth
with her hand, then gave up and let the tears flow freely - an all too
brief time of mourning for her alone, until he came back and their old
life returned for them.

Really, she was happy that her crew had found a cure and Voyager was
on its way. It was difficult to explain, but she felt inexorably
linked with her ship and it's fate. Commanding Voyager and her crew
had been part of what she was, ALL of what she was after they'd found
themselves stuck in the delta quadrant. In the months that she and
Chakotay had been stranded on this planet, she'd missed that ultimate
sense of purpose. And she'd missed the crew and the joy and the
laughter.

But she had been learning to adapt. She had been developing a new
sense of purpose, finding a different kind of joy. She was beginning
to appreciate the slower pace of life here, the closer connection to
the natural world and its rhythms. She couldn't deny that the
overwhelming responsibility of leading Voyager with no Starfleet to
back her up had taken a toll on her after only two years, and that it
had been a relief to get away from that.

Then, there was Chakotay. Once she'd truly accepted the fact that they
were going to spend the rest of their lives together on this planet,
alone, it had been impossible not to fall in love with him. He was a
gentle, intelligent man who shared her adventurous spirit. Once some
initial awkwardness between them had passed, she'd been surprised at
how completely she understood him: how he was feeling, what he was
thinking. She was surprised that she hadn't noticed this synchronicity
on the ship, but back then, of course, she hadn't been looking for it.

Only a few weeks had passed since he'd sat across from her at this
table and professed his love. He'd considerately couched it in an
ancient legend so she wouldn't feel pressured, but it had been
unmistakable. A story of an angry warrior and the brave, beautiful and
wise woman warrior who brought him peace. He'd given her time and
space to come to terms with his feelings for her, and she'd been
close, very close, to accepting them, even returning them. Several
times in the past week, she'd been so tempted to reach for him, to
step into his arms and just see what happened. But she hadn't done it.
And now, she couldn't.

Alone at the table now, she wiped her eyes and took several deep
breaths, trying to pull herself together. Looking across the room, she
was startled by her reflection on the shiny surface of the partially
dismantled replicator. She no longer recognized the woman looking back
at her, the quintessential Captain with every hair in place.

Miraculously, they'd gotten their old lives back, but she knew that
they had just lost something precious. And neither of them would ever
be the same.

---
On Fire
...three weeks later...
---

"Trapped on a barren planet, and you're stuck with the only Indian in
the universe who can't start a fire by rubbing two sticks together."

He'd said it in a half-hearted attempt to get her to smile, but when
he glanced up, he saw only concern in her eyes. He'd caught her
looking at him that way several times already during the day. It
didn't surprise him. In the time they'd spent on New Earth, they'd
learned to read every nuance of each other's behavior. So of course
she would be aware of how incredibly guilty he was feeling.

They were all going to die on this planet and it was his fault for
getting involved with Seska in the first place. And for jeopardizing
his Captain and his crew by selfishly going after the child that she
insisted was his. He'd put the ship at unacceptable risk, and the
Kazon had taken it and left the crew in this hellhole to perish. He
was surprised that he hadn't yet seen resentment and anger in the eyes
of his shipmates. Earlier in the day, he'd felt almost physically ill
watching Samantha Wildman struggling in the sweltering heat with her
infant daughter.

Yes, he was sure that she knew how he felt, just as he knew with
complete certainty that she was struggling with the same gut-wrenching
guilt. She blamed herself, no doubt, for getting her crew into this
nearly hopeless scenario. It was not her fault, of course. Clearly,
Seska had sabotaged the secondary systems in some subtle and
undetectable way before she'd defected. But he knew that Kathryn held
herself solely responsible -- he'd seen it in her eyes when Hogan had
been killed.

They were quite a pair. Fortunately, they both had plenty to keep them
occupied. With a little bit of luck, they could survive on this
planet, at least in the short term, and they had to concentrate on
that. They'd obtained shelter and food and water, now all they needed
was heat. But he'd been trying to light a fire for over twenty minutes
and could tell that he wasn't anywhere close to generating a spark. He
couldn't even do THAT much for her. He hurled the sticks to the ground
in frustration and disgust, "I was never any good at this as a child,
and I'm still not any good at it!"

He wished she'd snap at him or something - tell him to stop being so
childish and focus on generating positive feelings for their crew, but
she just looked at him sympathetically and said gently, "Don't be so
hard on yourself - no one else has had any luck, either. It must be
the wood."

He looked at her then, and really saw her for the first time since
she'd come over to him. She looked exhausted, overwhelmed and
frightened, although that was something that only he would notice. And
she was as filthy as everyone else was, her hair matted and disheveled
and beginning to fall out of its restraining pins.  It was impossible
to believe that only three weeks earlier, they had been on New Earth.
He could almost see her standing in the clearing near their shelter,
laughing, her arms covered in dirt up to her elbows from tending her
tomatoes, the sun turning her hair to flame. To go from that moment of
joy to this hellish, hopeless situation in so short a period was just
too brutal.

But the image of her hair glowing red in the sunlight sparked a
distant memory. He tried to remember his father's words -- they'd
seemed so unimportant at the time, and he hadn't even consciously
listened. But now, it came back to him. He realized that he was
staring intently at his Captain's hair when she asked him, confused,
"What is it?"

Distracted, he replied, "Something that my father once told me about
starting fires."

She and Ensign Cartwright volunteered to make the necessary sacrifice,
and he watched as Harry Kim hacked a long lock of her hair off with a
jagged rock. Someone wound the hair carefully around the stick he was
rubbing and within seconds a spark was generated and a small flame was
coaxed into a larger one. He looked at her again, and she was shaking
her head and smiling at him with amusement and affection. He couldn't
help but smile back. He held her gaze as he blew on the flames. They
would get through this somehow. They had to.

---
Just Hair
...eighteen months later...
---

She sat calmly, resigned, in front of the mirror as he gently combed
her hair out behind her. Occasionally, his fingers would brush against
her neck as he gathered the stray wisps. She hoped that the inherent
intimacy of this act was not making him uncomfortable, but he hadn't
even hesitated when she'd tentatively approached him about it. Now
that it was actually going to happen, she felt an uncharacteristic
stab of remorse about her decision. 'It's just hair,' she reminded
herself, 'you can grow it back...someday.' But somehow, it seemed like
the event had taken on more significance to her than a simple change
in hairstyle.

He picked up the scissors -- he was ready to begin. He paused, then
asked her quietly, "Are you certain?" She nodded her affirmation --
she'd thought long and hard about this, and she wasn't about to back
down now.

He bent down, his face very close to hers and took a strand of her
hair between his dark fingers. She shut her eyes briefly when the
first metallic snip rang out in the silence of the room. If he
noticed, he said nothing, for which she was grateful. Once the first
cut had been made, however, the decision was irreversible, and she was
able to relax a little. She even managed a small smile at the
intentness with which he approached the task. She knew he'd been the
right person to ask. She'd remembered him telling her an anecdote
about his attempt to cut his son's hair when he was a child, and she
remembered thinking even then that a person could do worse than to
have a perfectionist Vulcan cut their hair.

So meticulous was he that he would not even allow the cut strands fall
to the floor. Instead he caught them and placed them carefully on the
vanity in front of her. She really didn't want to look at the mirror
until he was finished, so she found herself staring at the hair until
she became lost in her own ruminations and couldn't even see it
anymore.

She'd decided to cut it because it was simply taking up too much of
her time. Even the simplified ponytail that she'd adopted after
reclaiming her vessel from the Kazon required a good ten minutes to
get into place every morning, and she just didn't want to mess with it
anymore. There was ALWAYS something else that required her attention,
in engineering, in astrometrics -- she rarely even managed to eat
breakfast these days. And she found that she didn't even take the time
to brush it out at night the way she used to. It was just...too much.
She needed a style that better suited the hard-working Captain of a
vessel stranded half a lifetime from home.

It was only hair, but somehow it felt like she was losing so much more
of herself. But then, she didn't even really know who she was these
days. She was no longer the model Starfleet Captain who kept her hair
in a tight bun and who'd thought it was a big deal to alter the
unwritten rules a little bit and socialize with her crew. Certainly
she was not the same woman who'd let her hair down, tended tomatoes
and fallen in love with Chakotay on New Earth. She didn't even think
that she was the same woman who, just months earlier, had tried to
introduce Seven to some of the more creative and artistic aspects of
humanity in Da Vinci's art studio.

No, she was a completely different person now. The weight of command
had built up over the past three and a half years -- and it seemed as
though her whole life was one huge compromise after another. She knew
that she often sounded harsh and rigid to the crew these days, and she
didn't care. The one thing that she was completely sure of was that
she HAD to get this crew home, and if she had to compromise now and
then, bend the rules, make a few unpopular decisions, well, that's
what she would do. Chakotay did his best to help her, but ultimately
the burden of the situation was hers alone. In the history of
Starfleet, there had never been a situation quite like the one she'd
found herself in. She was doing the best that she could, but it
sometimes occurred to her that she didn't particularly like the person
that she'd been forced to become.

She didn't realize that Tuvok was done until she heard him put the
scissors down. She looked up at the mirror. He'd done a good job - the
lines were neat and straight. The style made her face look fuller. She
was able to look at her hair objectively, but when she tried to take
in her whole reflection, she seemed like a complete stranger. When had
her eyes gotten so...dull? She sighed, then suddenly remembered that
Tuvok was still standing there.

She turned to him and managed to make herself smile. "Thank you,
Tuvok. You're good at this."

He nodded in acknowledgement, and looked at her with concern in his
dark eyes. Tuvok did not fully understand human emotions, but he had
always been adept at reading hers. He undoubtedly knew that she was
experiencing emotional distress, probably even understood why better
than she did. After a moment, he said, "I am going to the galley.
Would you care to join me?"

A smile came to her naturally now. He was reaching out to her the only
way that he knew how, and she was touched. "No, thank you Tuvok.
Perhaps another night this week. I...I can't tonight." She wasn't
ready to face the crew yet, and deal with their comments and
compliments. Wasn't ready to act nonchalant about the change. And she
certainly didn't want to run into Chakotay tonight. No, she needed to
be alone. She needed some time to come to come to terms with the new
Captain Janeway.

After Tuvok left, she gathered up the hair from her vanity and put it
into the recycler. Before she activated it, however, she reconsidered
and retrieved two of the longer locks. She would keep one, and
perhaps, in a little while, she would give one to Chakotay. It was
preposterously sentimental of her, and she was foolish to presume that
he'd even want it, but somehow she just knew that he would. She walked
over to the viewport and stood there, gently brushing her fingertips
over the locks. Clutching at her past as she looked into the darkness.
Her focus shifted and she noticed her unfamiliar reflection again. The
woman staring back at her looked discouraged. Sad. She felt a tear
slide down her cheek and brushed it impatiently away. Why did she feel
this empty ache, as if something inside her had also been cut away? It
was just HAIR for God's sake. Wasn't it?

---
Best Friend
...two and a half years later...
---

He pushed some underbrush aside and continued down the trail,
breathing deeply. The air was cool and smelled of soil and decaying
leaves. As he walked, he looked up at the sky through a canopy of
leaves; it was darker than earth's sky -- deep blue, and almost violet
at the horizon -- disconcerting but not unattractive. He sighed. It
was good to get away from the stifling confines of the assembly
building, if only for a brief time.

At a fork in the pathway he paused and scanned for her signal using
his tricorder. She'd slipped out of the reception room, and he wanted
to make sure that she was all right. He couldn't blame her for wanting
to get away. They were trying to negotiate for supplies and passage
through Netharian space and it had turned into a complicated and
frustrating process.  The Netharian Premier was excruciatingly
inflexible and he was starting to think that the few weeks they'd save
by going through their space might not be worth it. But Kathryn
remained patient and calm, and only he could see how aggravated she
was getting.

He rounded a curve in the trail and there she was. She was leaning
against a tree, rubbing her temples. When she spotted him, she smiled
ruefully. She looked like she desperately needed a cup of coffee. He
stopped in front of her.

"I was worried about you," he said.

"Sorry," she replied. "I had to get out of there for a few minutes or
I was going to scream."

He smiled sympathetically. "Premier Tieron is a stickler for
protocol," he ventured, although it was an understatement.

"And you thought I was bad!" she laughed, wryly.

"You're not so bad," he assured her, with a grin. "You follow
regulations more to the letter than I would, maybe, but at least so
aren't quite so..."

"Uptight?" she finished for him. "Daily inspections of the ship?
We'll NEVER get through their space!"

"I think you've almost got him talked out of that," he told her.
"Actually," he teased, "I think he kind of likes you, Kathryn."

She rolled her eyes, then pushed herself away from the tree, groaning,
"Ugh."

"Ugh?" he laughed, incredulously, "That's not a very diplomatic thing
to say!"

"I can't tell you how tired I am of being diplomatic. I feel like...I
don't know. I feel like taking someone's head off with a bat'leth or
something!" She laughed at his expression of mock alarm.

"Well, we can't have that!" he said, offering her his arm and
gesturing farther down the trail, "Come on!"

"Where are we going?" she asked, "Shouldn't we be getting back now?"

"We have enough time, it shouldn't be too much farther. It's just
something that one of the waiters at the reception told me about," he
replied.

She raised her eyebrows, but smiled and took his arm. They started
down the path. In a purposeful attempt to steer the conversation away
from the negotiations, he said, casually, "So, have you heard? Jenny
Delaney asked Harry out."

It was a clever ploy on his part. He really needed a respite from the
tension, and so did she. And he knew she couldn't resist a little bit
of ship's gossip. She liked to keep up with her crew, but seldom got
the opportunity to hear the good stuff. But she surprised him by
responding immediately, her eye's sparkling, "No, it turned out to be
Megan who asked him out. It was in Sandrine's and it was dark, so he
got them mixed up!"

He looked at her in disbelief, "Where did you hear that?" he demanded.

"I can't reveal my source!" she insisted, laughing. "But it's a good
thing somebody set him straight. Can you imagine," she said
animatedly, "if he'd shown up at the wrong twin's door?"

Laughing, he pushed aside a low hanging branch, holding it so that she
could pass through. He was about to follow her, but she'd stopped
short and drawn in a breath, saying "Oh!"

He followed her gaze a short distance down the trail, then smiled when
he saw what she had noticed. The waiter had been right about this.
This was incredible. He looked upon the sight before them in awe. Just
down the trail, in a dip in the topography, there was a grove of
golden trees. The slanting rays of the late afternoon sun were
reflecting off of them, causing them to sparkle brilliantly. The
contrast between the glimmering trees and the cobalt blue of the sky
was stunning.

Absently, instinctively, Kathryn reached back for him, placing her
hand on his chest. "Chakotay," she whispered, as if speaking aloud
would break some kind of spell, "Do you see that?"

"Let's take a closer look," he suggested, but she was already moving
towards the trees -- eyes blazing with wonder and curiosity. He
followed her, shaking his head in affection.

When he caught up to her, she'd stopped in front of one of the trees
-- she practically had her nose pressed against the bark she was
inspecting it so closely. He knew she was dying to scan it with her
tricorder, but that wasn't appropriate on this planet without
permission. He studied the tree as well -- there were fine metallic
crystals embedded in the bark, and incorporated into the leaves.

"How did they DO this?" she wondered aloud.

"According to the waiter, they're a naturally occurring phenomenon,"
he told her. "Apparently, there is an unusual rock formation beneath
this grove. This mineral dissolves in the groundwater and is pulled
into the root systems of the trees."

"I don't see how that's possible," she replied skeptically. "It
doesn't seem likely that the proper conditions for crystallization..."

Laughing, he raised his hands up in surrender. "I don't know how it
happens, Kathryn! Maybe we can get some information on it later. For
now, will you just enjoy them? Please?"

She blushed and grinned at him sheepishly. "You're right," she said,
"I'll stop..." A breeze kicked up then, rustling the leaves overhead.
They both looked up to see the golden tinged leaves sparkling in the
wind. It really did look almost magical -- like something you'd read
about in a fairy tale.

Kathryn moved off, wandering around the grove, still looking up at the
dancing leaves, sometimes running her fingers over the bark of a tree
as she passed by it. His breath caught as he watched her and he knew
that this would be another image of her forever burned into his memory
-- like so many other images of her from their years together. He
still loved her, he knew that -- he probably always would. She didn't
feel that it was appropriate for them to become romantically involved
-- and to tell the truth, he half agreed with her. But it was
difficult for him. She'd told him several times, gently but firmly,
that he should move on with his life. But he knew that in her heart,
she didn't really want him to. Most of the time, that was enough for
him. Today -- at this moment -- it was more than enough.

He realized, with a start, that she was standing directly in front of
him, smiling at his distant expression. The breeze blew some of her
hair, just now growing back to below shoulder length, into her face.
Automatically, he reached up and tucked it behind her ear. It was a
warm and intimate gesture that she did not back away from. The close
friendship that they had both worked so hard to nurture allowed for an
occasional personal space violation.

"We should head back now," she said. "It's nearly time for the next
session." It almost seemed like there were tears in her eyes, and he
wondered if she had been thinking about him while he'd been thinking
about her. Her sentimental smile was, as usual, tinged with regret.

"I know," he said gently, hoping that his words conveyed both of his
meanings to her. Yes, it was time to get back to the negotiations. And
yes, he knew that she was as sorry as he was that things couldn't be
different between them. He gestured towards the trail, "Let's go."

He started to walk, but stopped when she said "Chakotay?" He looked
back at her expectantly.

"I just want to...thank you," she said quietly. "I was feeling
so...suffocated...during the negotiations, and even lately back on the
ship. Yet in twenty minutes with you..." Her voice trailed off, and
she stepped up to him and gently touched his arm. "You always make me
feel like a human being again..."

"Well, that's my job," he smiled as they started back down the path
together.

She laughed wryly, "I'm pretty sure that's not part of the First
Officer job description."

"It's my job," he amended, taking her hand, "as your best friend."

---
Another Chance
...a year later...
---

Kathryn Janeway stood at the viewport in her ready room with her arms
folded across her chest, staring out at the blur of stars going by.
Even if they hadn't been at warp, she knew that her viewport was at
the wrong orientation to see the one star that she wanted to see the
most. Still, she felt like if she just looked hard enough, maybe she
would be able to make out a familiar system and get a concrete sense
of how close they were to home now.

The door chimed and she smiled and said, quietly, "Come in."

Someone entered the room, but she didn't bother to turn around. She
knew who it was. Her instincts were confirmed seconds later when a
pair of arms wrapped around her waist from behind. In the viewport she
saw herself and Chakotay reflected on the image of the stars. After
all these years, it was this simple. No words were even necessary. She
felt Chakotay nestle his chin into the curve of her neck and heard him
breathing in the scent of her hair. They both sighed at the same time,
and she relaxed into his embrace, covering his arms with hers.

It seemed as though they should be weeping or kissing passionately or
talking animatedly...something. But this was just a peaceful
continuation of the defining moment that had occurred earlier in the
day. When she'd given the order to engage, Chakotay had reached across
the console from his chair, and she had wordlessly taken his hand. As
the ship entered the wormhole to the alpha quadrant, they entwined
their fingers together, as they had so many years ago on New Earth --
his unspoken question and her unspoken response.

After all these years, it was this simple.

And she was a damned lucky woman. This could have been lost to her so
easily. She had fully expected that by the time they finally made it
back to the alpha quadrant, Chakotay would have moved on with his life
-- found someone else. Or even if he hadn't, that they would not be
able to find their way to each other -- too much time gone by, too
much of a change in the way in which they'd come to relate to one
another. Yet here they were. They were back and she'd been given
another chance. And there was no way she was going to let it slip
away.

She loved him. She loved everything about him. Loved his soft voice
and his gentle nature. Loved his devotion to the people he cared
about. Loved the way he stood up to her, the way he made her see other
possibilities, other options. Loved the way he said her name and the
way he looked at her and the way that he made her feel. It had been
difficult to channel the intensity of her feelings for him into a
close friendship, but she'd done it. And the friendship had been
wonderful, but now, standing in his arms, she felt an incredible sense
of relief and joy.

She had no idea what to expect when they beamed down to headquarters.
It was likely to be a tumultuous time, and she didn't know what the
future would hold for any of them, but she and Chakotay were going to
find out together. She knew that he would keep her mind open to new
possibilities and options, as he always had.

Chakotay was swaying slightly as he held her, rocking her back and
forth. She closed her eyes knowing without seeing that his were
closed, too. So peaceful. This was so absolutely right.

"Hey," he spoke softly close to her ear, "When things settle down a
little bit, I was thinking I might go away for a while. What do you
think, do you want to disappear with me?"

"Oh, God, yes!" she said fervently. She felt him smile.

"Where should we go?" he asked.

"Oh...I don't care...it doesn't matter," she said. But then she
reconsidered, "Well, someplace cold, I think!"

"Someplace cold? Really?" That had surprised him.

"Someplace cold," she said firmly. "Someplace where we can walk
outside and shiver and know we're alive. Someplace where we won't see
another soul. Someplace where we can go inside and be warm. I want
real coffee and a bathtub and a fireplace and I want you."

She felt him pull her closer to him, heard what might have been a
choked sob. He didn't, or couldn't, speak for a moment, then he said,
"I think all of that can be arranged."

She turned around to face him, staying close, placing one hand over
his heart and reaching up to stroke his cheek with the other. She felt
tears welling up in her eyes, but managed to say, with just the
slightest waver in her voice, "Then I'll leave it in your capable
hands, Commander."

The corners of his mouth turned up into a small smile, and his dimples
appeared -- it was something that she'd often said to him over the
years. His eyes were twinkling, but she could see that they were also
intently searching her face -- trying to make sure that she really
knew what she was saying, and that she meant it. Apparently satisfied
with what her found, he reached up to touch her -- his fingertips
barely grazing her skin, stroking from her temple down past her ear
and across her jaw line. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the
sensation, and when he traced her lower lip with his thumb, she kissed
it. His fingers trailed down her neck, then lifted her chin and bent
down to kiss her for the first time.

It was a gentle kiss, his lips moving tenderly over hers, his tongue
just flicking out briefly to touch her lips. His hands were moving all
over her face and her neck, before settling into her hair. He started
to pull away, but she grasped his head and held him to her, continuing
the kiss, unwilling to break it off just yet. It was very likely going
to be a while before they could be together.  She couldn't resist
pressing her hips slightly into him -- she just wanted to feel him
close to her, once, before their impending separation as they
concentrated on the complexities and repercussions of being home. She
felt him respond to her, then he groaned softly into her mouth and she
stopped. She pulled her lower body away from his and grinned
sheepishly, "Sorry," she said, a little embarrassed.

He smiled and exhaled, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. He
didn't relinquish his hold on her, however -- his hands were still in
her hair. He wound his fingers through it and pulled it gently back
off of her face. "You know," he observed, as he smoothed it away from
her temples, "it's almost long enough to braid again."

She laughed affectionately and pressed her forehead against his.
"Chakotay," she said, her eyes tearing up, "you are such a hopeless
romantic!"

Their laughter was interrupted by the sound of the comm system.

"Tuvok to Janeway."

She almost sprang back guiltily, then felt a thrill of relief when she
remembered that she didn't have to. She stayed close to Chakotay, even
pressing her lips quickly to his before responding, "Janeway here."

"We have an interesting system on long range sensors," Tuvok informed
her. She could hear the rest of the bridge crew chuckling in the
background, but Tuvok continued unperturbed. "It is a single star
system with nine planets. The third planet appears to be Class M.  We
are just moving into visual range, Captain. Perhaps you would care to
oversee this personally."

She grinned broadly, a surge of happiness filling her. In Chakotay's
eyes, she saw excitement and joy as well. "We're on our way, Janeway
out," she replied.

Chakotay pulled her into an embrace and held her tightly. "You did it,
Kathryn! You got us home!" he said into her ear.

She pulled back to correct him, "WE did it, Chakotay." They allowed
themselves one more brief, tender kiss before stepping away from each
other and moving towards the door, hand in hand, to face their future.

---
Someplace Cold
...two months later...
---

They were facing each other, kneeling in front of the fireplace. The
flickering flames gave their bare skin a warm glow, and they were
touching each other, just touching each other -- enjoying the
sensation of flesh on flesh, exploring each other's bodies for the
first time. Chakotay ran his fingers lightly up from her belly,
grazing the sides of her breasts, tracing her collarbone -- then down
the length of her arm, finally covering her hands, which were engaged
in a detailed tactile study of his chest. He loved to watch her face
as she responded to his touch. When he reached an especially sensitive
area, her eyes would close and she a rapt expression of pure pleasure
would pass over her features. This is the way that he'd intended for
their first time to be - but of course it hadn't worked out that way.

The first time had been just a few hours earlier, and even though it
wasn't what he'd had in mind, he had no regrets. They'd barely made it
inside the door of the cabin -- he wasn't even sure they'd closed it
all the way - and then they were clutching and pawing at each other
and kissing each other brutally hard and frantically tugging away
clothing. They'd made love on the floor on a pile of coats and hats
and scarves and sweaters and boots and suitcases, and it had been fast
and hard. And incredible.  They were both sobbing when they came,
quickly and simultaneously -- shouting each other's names. He'd held
her face, forcing her to look at him, look into his eyes, look into
his soul -- it had been intense and joyful and no, he had no regrets.
Kathryn laughingly attributed it to two full months of foreplay from
across debriefing rooms crowded with admirals. He'd pointed out that
it had in fact been seven YEARS and two months of foreplay, but she'd
told him not to quibble.

Still, this slow exploration was pleasurable in a different way
entirely and he intended for it to go on for a long time. He wanted to
touch every inch of her body and kiss her slowly and thoroughly. He
wanted to pull at her earlobes gently with his teeth and kiss his way
down her neck. He wanted to do a detailed analysis on exactly what she
liked done to her breasts. He wanted to taste her and make her writhe
-- he wanted to make her come with his fingers so that he could watch
her face. And he wanted to enjoy the feel of her hands on his body,
wanted her to rub his nipples and lick them, to touch his stomach with
her fingertips, feather light. He wanted her to touch his hardness,
stroke him -- wanted to feel her mouth hot around him. Then he wanted
to push inside her slowly and rock inside her with a slowly and make
her come without him at least once before allowing his own climax to
build as he whispered to her how much he cherished her, how much he
loved her.

That was his plan, anyway. He didn't think she'd have any objections
so he began by pulling up on his knees and drawing her up as well. He
held her closely enough to feel her nipples harden against his chest
as he rubbed her back. She had her hands on his ass, holding him close
to her, burying her face in his neck and kissing him there. He was
beginning to be overwhelmed by the sensations -- his erection was
pressed against her abdomen and he just wanted to lower her to the
floor and...but no. They had to slow down. He pulled away from her and
looked at her face, again marveling at the way she was responding to
him. She looked different when she was intimately engaged -- a little
softer, a little younger, but still strong and assertive. It was such
a seductive combination.

He tangled his hand in her hair, and studied the way the firelight was
reflecting off of it. Flashes of memory returned to him. He saw her
framed against a blue sky on New Earth, happy and contented, the sun
burnishing her braided hair. Remembered the sick, hopeless feeling
he'd gotten when she emerged from the bathroom in the shelter, her
hair bound, their feelings unresolved.   Saw her in a cave on a barren
planet - dirty, disheveled and discouraged - yet still reaching out to
him.  Remembered her appearing at the door to his quarters, wordlessly
pressing a lock of hair into his hand, and leaving with tears in her
eyes. Saw her standing in a grove of glittering trees, looking up in
curiosity and wonder -- his best friend. The path that had brought
them to this time and place had been a crooked one, but now it seemed
like it had been the right path, after all.

"Hey," she said to him, "Where have you gone?" He'd been sitting there
staring at her hair, lost in thought again. He'd have to stop doing
that.

Not waiting for him to respond, she smiled -- he still wasn't used to
seeing her smile like that at him -- a sensual, cat-like smile that
took his breath away and made his eyes close. Then she was pressing
him down to the floor. Clearly, she had her own plans. And that was
all right, too. They had plenty of time.

---
First Haircut
...three years later...
---

"Chakotay," Kathryn chided, "We have to cut it!"

"NO!" Chakotay moaned. "It's beautiful!"

She set her coffee cup down and reached across the table to give his
hand a sympathetic pat.

"I know, but just look at her," Kathryn said, "she's miserable."

They both watched as their daughter, almost on cue, stopped in her
busy tracks and pushed impatiently with chubby fists at the hair
hanging into her eyes. She turned to her father and announced,
plaintively, "Eye!"

Kathryn laughed as Chakotay held out his arms, grinning, and said,
"Come over here, Princess, I'll help you." She lurched unsteadily over
to him and he pulled her into his lap, brushing the dark tendrils back
off of her forehead. He shot Kathryn a bemused look and asked, "How
did you get her to do that? You're ganging up on me!"

The early morning sun was streaming in through the kitchen window,
making the wooden table glow golden. Kathryn sighed contentedly as she
watched Chakotay rub his forehead against Lannara's, speaking to her
in soothing tones. It was a lovely tableau, but there was work to be
done. She stood up.

"Let's do it right now," she said, "I'll get the scissors."

"NOW?" Chakotay asked, stricken.

"Just her bangs," Kathryn promised, "we'll leave the curls in the
back."

She returned with the scissors and scraped a chair over beside them.
She kissed her daughter gently on the top of her head, then kissed her
husband on the top of his. "This won't hurt a bit," she assured them
both. Chakotay scowled at her dubiously, but Lannara seemed
unconcerned. She smoothed her daughter's soft curls and plotted her
strategy. Then she drew a small amount of hair between her fingers and
lifted the scissors.

Lannara turned her head, more curious than anxious. "Hold still,
honey!" Kathryn said. "Chakotay, tell her a story..."

After a brief moment, Chakotay's mouth turned up into a small smile.
He caught Kathryn's eye, then said gently into his daughter's ear,
"Once upon a time, there was an angry warrior..."

---

The End