The BLTS Archive- Friends in High Places by Ragpants (mhkurtz@earthlink.net) --- Author's Note: This Janeway is one I hope I never see, but given the direction her character seems to be moving in Season 5, it's not too much of stretch to imagine like this. Comments are always welcome! Write me! Obligatory disclaimer:Captain Janeway, Chakotay and Starfleet are the exclusive property of Paramount Pictures. This work of fanfiction earns no monetary reimbursement and does not presume to own any of the aforementioned items. --- She's not a cruel person. Not deliberately so. Oh, Kathryn has her faults. We all do. She can be self-absorbed and thoughtless. Petty. Ambitious. But cruel? Never. Or at least I hadn't thought so until now. I remember when I first saw her. She appeared on my viewscreen like some redeeming angel, offering assistance and cooperation, both in short supply in the Delta Quadrant. The Liberty had been heavily damaged when the Caretaker dragged us across the galaxy to the Ocampan homeworld. My chief engineer had gone missing. And replacement parts were very far away, even the second-hand knock-offs that we usually made do with. I was losing my crew too. I could feel it. The only thing that had bound us together was our mutual hatred of the Cardassians and with them gone--or at least so far removed it was doubtful even Tuvok would live long enough to witness our return--they would leave the Maquis just as they had joined it: in ones and twos, for their own reasons and in their own time. Then Capt. Janeway appeared: the Starfleet cavalry charging over the hill, coming to our rescue, holding out her hand in trust and mutual benefit. It didn't hurt that she was a good-looking woman either. I accepted her offer and didn't regret it. Later, when we were stranded on New Earth, I came to know the woman inside the uniform. I found her charming and damn near irresistible. For the first time in my life, I harbored thoughts of home and hearth. I almost told her that I loved her. I didn't, though. And now I'm glad I didn't. It would have been too hard now. Too bitter. After Tuvok retrieved us from New Earth, things changed. She changed. The Kazon took Voyager. That scared her. For the first time I think she realized just how vulnerable our situation was and how desperate. She retreated then. Not just from me, but from everyone. And I made it worse. I wore my heart on my sleeve for everyone to see. I think that frightened her even more than the Kazon. I remember the night we had dinner in her cabin. We had shared a bottle of wine, maybe two, and were having coffee and cordials on the couch. For some reason I can't quite remember now, I leaned over toward her, planning to kiss her. She pushed her palm against the center of my chest. "Don't, " her voice said, though her eyes insisted otherwise, "I need a friend and a first officer I can trust far more than I need a lover." I was pretty sure I could handle all three positions, but I didn't know. And I sure as hell was in no position to be objective. And maybe, just maybe, she was right. I backed off and did my best to be what she asked, a first officer and friend. But the possibility was always there--that things would be different when we got home. When guilt and protocol didn't stand between us. I grabbed ahold of that and held onto it until that was all I had. When we got home. Four little words that should have made such a big difference. When we got home, Starfleet barged in. The debriefings took longer than I'd ever dreamed. Weeks not days. And the brass ordered us to avoid "fraternization" since that might contaminate our recollections--as if the six years we'd already spent together hadn't. I know several officers who cheerfully promised they wouldn't see their fellow crew, then went home to their lovers or partners from the ship. But not her. Not Kathryn. If she'd been 'by the book' in the Delta Quadrant, she was even more scrupulous here where Starfleet leered over her shoulder. She was a stickler about their orders. Just a little longer, I told myself. Just a little longer. I'd already waited years. I could wait a few more weeks. Starfleet offered me a promotion and a ship-- I refused both. I had seen enough of space. I wanted to settle down, to feel earth under my feet, not deck plates, to find a place and call it mine--and if I found some companionship, why that was even better. At the end of the debriefings, Kathryn was called to stand before a Board of Inquiry. There were 23 charges specified, but she seemed oddly unconcerned. She'd always bragged that she 'knew people inside the Admiralty' and that she could make her decisions stick. I'd wondered about that. And I wondered even more when the investigation dragged on for weeks before the hearing ever opened. We managed to meet for lunch three or four times during that period, and once for drinks at the Quantum Cafe. Always in some public place. San Francisco was a 'company town,' she said, and her counsel had advised her to 'minimize the appearance of collusion.' She seemed guarded when we met, but always glad to see me. We talked, or rather she did, passing along gossip about Headquarters' politics, of who was doing what to whom. But our visits never got past the convivial to the consequential. Everything was superficial. She must have sensed my frustration that last time because she reached across the table, took my hand and squeezed it. "We'll get though this. Don't worry." I had set a watchdog program on the newsfeeds to monitor for any mention of Voyager or her crew. Even so I almost missed it, coming as it did, buried behind the war news, the ship postings, and the casualty list, tucked in amongst the social news--a single line: Captain Kathryn Janeway married Vice Admiral Diego Bennett on April 26th in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. She always said she had friends in high places. I didn't need to see the board's final report to know how it would read. Her future was secure. She would be exonerated of all the charges and offered a promotion with an office high atop Fleet HQ that included an unobstructed view of the Bay and an aide waiting on her bidding. She was one of Starfleet's own. She'd always been. It would forgive her anything, provided she toed the Starfleet line. And she did--even if it meant leaving me behind. And it did. As I said before, Kathryn is not a cruel person. Not mean or vindictive. Not deliberately so. Just ambitious. --- The End