The BLTS Archive- The Woman in Black
by monkee (wiecek@earthlink.net)

---

Disclaimers: Paramount owns Star Trek Voyager and all of its
characters.

Author's Notes: Boadicea challenged me to write a story in which
Chakotay knew about J/Ka and approved. Or to write a J and C
friendship story in which there was no sex, but with Janeway portrayed
as being sexual. So I did both, and threw in the 1001 Nights 'Janeway
in Black' challenge, too.

For Boadicea, of course.

---

The party was in full swing when Chakotay arrived, alone. It still
made him feel momentarily awkward -- walking into these things without
Kathryn.  He had taken being her escort for granted all those years.
Now, of course, Kashyk filled that role.

Paris and Neelix had collaborated on this evening's festivities -- a
semi-formal party and dance to celebrate the ship's safe passage
through Rhydonian space. There was a lot to celebrate -- it had been a
tense two months, and everyone was glad it was over. Paris' influence
in the holoprogram was obvious -- it was much more sophisticated than
Neelix's usual efforts. The walls of the ornate dance hall were draped
in velvet and crystal chandeliers glittered overhead.  Floor to
ceiling doors opened onto a balcony where a cool breeze blew and stars
shimmered. Chakotay shook his head -- it wasn't something that really
appealed to him, and he felt uncomfortable in his formal clothes. But
looking around, he had to smile. It was good to see everyone else all
dressed up -- laughing, dancing, and happy.

He mingled for a while, then settled in with a group from engineering,
marking the time until he could reasonably leave.  He was only half
listening to the banter when a snatch of conversation from B'Elanna
and Paris' nearby table caught his attention.

"They used to call those 'Fuck me' boots, you know," Paris commented
quietly, nodding across the room to someone they could see, but
Chakotay could not.

"Tom!" B'Elanna hissed, smacking his arm.

"Well, they did!" Paris said, defensively.  "Don't get me wrong.  She
doesn't look trashy, or anything. Actually, she looks...well, she
looks great."

Movement within the milling crowd revealed the subject of their
conversation. Kathryn.

Chakotay felt his eyebrows rise, but quickly schooled his features to
impassivity. She was wearing black -- all black.  A sleeveless black
dress that ended just above a pair of gleaming black leather
high-heeled boots, which hugged her ankles and calves. Damn she had
nice legs. He'd always thought so.

There was nothing at all immodest about the ensemble -- the only skin
showing was her arms -- yet she looked sexy as hell. Maybe it was the
way the material of the dress fell over her body, or the way she
carried herself -- self-assured, happy, natural. Kashyk stood at her
shoulder, as if he'd always been there, his hand on her lower back.

Paris was right - she looked...amazing. But Chakotay would bet a
month's rations that Kashyk had something to do with those boots. They
just didn't seem to be her style.

Of course, maybe he had no right to think that. How would he know what
her 'style' was? Lately he'd been thinking that he'd never really
known her at all. Or he had known her, but the years, and the burdens,
had changed her into someone else entirely. On New Earth, she'd worn
simple dresses and a loose braid down her back -- had that been her?
She'd certainly seemed happy there -- content. Maybe that woman was
who she would have become - in that place - with him. But the whole
situation had been so surreal -- the two of them stranded, like Adam
and Eve, in some kind of isolated paradise. When reality intervened,
and Voyager returned for them, that woman had been left behind. And
perhaps that was for the best. The woman in black who stood across the
room from him tonight seemed stronger, and more centered, than ever.
Confident. Balanced.

He had to admit to himself that Kashyk might have had something to do
with that. It was clear even to him that he'd been good for her in so
many ways. The change in her had been abrupt.  Kashyk had been
assigned his own quarters, but from the very beginning he spent most
of his nights in hers. They were not even attempting to hide their
relationship. Almost overnight, she'd gone from being harried and
on-edge to being even-keeled and relaxed, yet right on top of things.
He remembered an incident soon after Kashyk's defection. He'd
overheard Dalby telling Ayala, 'See? All she needed was a good fuck.' 
After reminding Dalby painfully about the Maquis way, again, he'd
hurled him into the brig for three straight days, for insubordination.
Kathryn hadn't asked about it. He suspected that she knew what people
were saying, and just didn't care.

He knew there was more to it than sex. She'd needed much more than
that -- she'd needed someone outside the 'family', to confide in, to
be herself with. Someone without any previous connection to her
command.  Kashyk gave her a needed respite from being 'the Captain'.
And he stimulated her intellectually and emotionally. He challenged
her in a way that no one else could.

Oh, the sex was certainly a part of it. He knew that. He could hear
them. The soundproofing between their quarters was good, but it wasn't
perfect. Of course, he probably wouldn't hear it if he weren't
specifically listening for it. He knew he shouldn't be, but he
couldn't seem to help it. Kashyk pleased her. They made love
frequently and enthusiastically. Devore men must have a lot of
stamina. He wasn't proud of himself that Kashyk's groans and her muted
cries of pleasure turned him on -- but they did. He felt a loss --
knew that he was sorry that it was Kashyk and not him. But he was
happy for her.

He watched them as Kathryn worked the room -- smiling and greeting
various crewmembers -- and was struck once again by how right they
looked together. Kashyk always made her smile, and even laugh. At one
point, Chakotay saw Kathryn wince and stretch her neck. It was a
gesture that he knew well, from New Earth, and in general. She was
tense -- the past two months had been especially stressful for her.
Kashyk noticed as well. He rubbed her neck surreptitiously with his
fingers beneath her hair. She smiled slightly and leaned back into the
touch. They were quite subtle -- he was sure no one had noticed the
intimate, gentle exchange but him.

He couldn't help but think that Kashyk had not earned the right to
know her so well. But that's the way it was.

It had been over six months now, but he still didn't fully trust
Kashyk professionally. But he was one of an increasing minority. Even
Tuvok had come to accept his defection and subsequent presence on the
ship at face value. Kashyk worked under Tuvok, in security, and was
apparently becoming a valued addition to the staff. Chakotay still had
his doubts that Kashyk would ultimately be able to serve within a
command structure, but so far everything was going smoothly enough.

Gradually he realized that someone was talking to him, or trying to. 
He shook off his ruminations. It wouldn't do for him to be caught
staring at her like this. He returned his attention to the people that
he was standing with, and soon Kathryn and Kashyk disappeared into the
crowd once again.

---

Forty-five minutes later he was standing by one of the doors that
looked out onto the balcony.  He was trying to decide whether or not
he'd stayed long enough yet.  Her voice startled him from behind.

"Hello, Chakotay. What are you doing standing over here all by
yourself?"

"Hello, Kathryn," he smiled, turning to greet her.  "I'm not by
myself. I'm...mingling."

"Ah," she replied.

"You look wonderful," he said.  "Nice boots."

She grinned and smacked him playfully on the arm. "Thanks," she said,
and he thought he detected just the faintest hint of a blush on her
cheeks, but the room was dimly lit.

They spoke easily for several minutes. Small talk, really. About the
party, the holoprogram, the crew. If there had ever been anything
between them but close friendship, no one would know by listening to
them. But that had been true even before Kashyk - their interactions
hadn't changed all that much since his arrival. They were professional
and friendly with one another. There were subtle differences, though.
They certainly didn't have any working dinners in either of their
quarters anymore. And when they spoke of personal matters, she always
seemed to be treading a little...carefully...with him. As if she
didn't want to hurt him.  He appreciated the gesture, but wished they
could truly get past it.

"Where's Kashyk?" he asked. He thought she stiffened a little bit, but
she recovered quickly. She had to know that they were going to have to
work past some occasional awkwardness.

"Talking to Tuvok," she said, shaking her head with amusement.

Chakotay smiled. Tuvok tried, but he always found a way to drag ship's
business into his social interactions.

Their conversation faltered. He wished that he hadn't brought up
Kashyk. He didn't like to see her tentativeness return. It was time to
say something to ease their way.

"Kathryn," he said, and waited until she met his eyes.  "I'm happy for
you."

Thankfully, she didn't pretend not to know what he was talking about.
She smiled, gratefully -- a sentimental half smile -- and he could see
tears in her eyes.

"Thank you, Chakotay," she said, softly. She touched his cheek briefly
-- just a brush of her fingertips. "Thank you," she repeated.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kashyk approach them from across
the room. Kathryn saw him too, and stepped away from him, just a
little.  She held his gaze, though, and said, gesturing toward the
party and the dance floor, "Don't stand here all alone, Chakotay. Go
dance."

He wished with all his heart that it could be that simple. That she
could order him to move on with his life, and he could comply. He
would move on...someday. When he was ready.  For now, though, he just
smiled at her, and nodded in understanding.

Kashyk arrived and nodded a greeting, "Commander."  He was always
professional and polite around Chakotay. Clearly not threatened by
him, but not entirely friendly either.  He touched Kathryn's arm with
just the slightest hint of possessiveness.

"Are you ready to go, Kathryn?" he asked her.

"Yes," she replied, taking his arm. "I'm ready."  They exchanged their
good-byes, and as Kathryn and Kashyk turned to make their way to the
door, she told Chakotay quietly, again, "Go dance!" He just laughed.

He watched them as they left. Kashyk said something softly into her
ear and she looked at him with real warmth and passion in her eyes.
Just before the door closed after them, he saw Kashyk caress her
wrist.  He decided that he'd be better off staying at the party for a
while, after all. He couldn't face listening to them tonight. He could
already tell it was going to be an energetic session.

He figured the boots would probably stay on the whole time. He'd never
get to sleep with that image in his head.

He briefly considered heeding her advice and finding someone -- anyone
-- to dance with.  But he just didn't feel like it. He wasn't
brooding; it was just going to take some time.  He thought about how
wonderful she'd looked, how happy. She and Kashyk clearly had some
genuine feelings for each other. And he really was happy for her. 
Really.  Sighing a little, he strolled out onto the balcony and looked
out at the twinkling holographic stars.

He could see now that it was for the best.  She would never have been
able to balance a relationship with him and her obligation to the
ship. And perhaps she had known all along, instinctively, that they
really weren't right for each other anyway. He was nothing like
Kashyk. Perhaps he'd been kidding himself all those years, thinking
that they were destined to be together. He'd never really known her at
all.

Still, the woman in black was compelling. Sexy. Whole. Someone that he
probably could have loved, if he'd only figured out who she was in
time.

---

The End