Disclaimer: All things Star Trek Voyager belong to CBS/Paramount. I’m just letting life following Endgame work out to suit my fancy. No infringement intended.

Note: Written for the 2007 VAMB Secret Spook gift exchange with the sentence prompt: “He gave her a smirk in passing, the smirk of a man who has a secret.”

Summary: Post-Endgame. The real Kathryn Janeway is back, and Chakotay gets his first glimpse of her. J/C

“This Ain’t War”

by mizvoy

He gave her a smirk in passing, the smirk of a man who has a secret, and she let him get away with it.

With that momentary pause, as Chakotay moved past Kathryn Janeway to take over the helm, he had challenged her to change the future, and Kathryn was more than ready for the challenge. She retreated to her bridge seat and ordered him to set a course for home, relishing the sight of Earth in the view screen.

After a breathless moment of silence, the bridge crew burst into joyful celebration, laughing and hugging each other as they began to accept that their exile was over. When she saw Chakotay’s back stiffen, Kathryn smiled behind her hand, for he had been skillfully separated from Seven of Nine at the most inopportune moment. He had to wonder if his captain had done so on purpose.

He twisted around in his seat as if to confront her, but Kathryn smiled serenely, pretending that her pleasure came from the excitement that bubbled around them and not from her duplicity. She knew his secret, however, and felt slightly triumphant in disrupting his dalliance with yet another blonde rival. She didn’t even flinch when he looked past her to give Seven a wink, consoling herself with the thought that a wink was much easier to dismiss than an embrace or, God forbid, a kiss would have been.

At the moment, Kathryn Janeway had more important things to do than worry about her first officer’s private life—especially since he was so damned smug about it—but the time would come. Chakotay didn’t know that his captain was aware of his involvement with Seven, and she wasn’t about to inform him of it until the time was ripe.

“All’s fair in love and war,” she thought to herself, her smile widening. “And this ain’t war.” It had been too long since she’d thought like a woman instead of a Starfleet officer, too long since she’d thought of Chakotay as a man, but that was about to change. Seven would learn that she was out of her league.

Because Chakotay had begun this romance in secret, Kathryn could play dumb. She could assert her normal control over Seven’s well-being, make unilateral decisions about her location and debriefing without arousing suspicion. In the meantime, she would make all the demands on his time and attention that any captain would make on a first officer, assuming that duty to his ship and crew came first.

He would have to come forward about his romantic interest in Seven if he wanted the captain to change her priorities, and she was pretty certain that he would hesitate to do so. In the meantime, her feigned ignorance would cover a multitude of sins.

All she needed was time.

The last several years had seen a gradual change in the way the command team interacted. Their off-duty friendship had stagnated, and their daily official contacts were repetitive, unchallenging, and routine. Only when the ship came under attack, when they were scrambling to survive, did they interact dynamically and creatively. Only then were they reminded of the exciting potential of their partnership. But those moments of vibrant interaction and thrilling partnership were usually followed by longer periods of repair and recovery, and then by a return to mind-numbing routine. And over time, the possibility of other, deeper connections between them wore thin.

As Kathryn hoped, being home also meant a new beginning. They worked closely day in and day out, sharing most of their meals, making plans for dozens of contingencies, and enjoying the renewal of the friendship and cooperation that had always been the bedrock of their professional partnership. In fact, their inevitable separation made them savor these last days even more.

In some ways, they felt as if the ship was under a new, insidious type of attack aimed at gradually spiriting the crew away from the ship. The first to leave were Seven of Nine and Icheb, taken to Denver, Colorado, for debriefing and study, and “The Equinox Five,” who were escorted to a medium security facility in South America for a board of inquiry. Rumors flew about whether the Maquis would be the next to go.

A week after their arrival in Earth orbit, Janeway summoned Chakotay to her ready room, asking him to take a seat as she finished reading a communiqué from a contact at Starfleet headquarters. She was amazed at how close they had become in the last few days, shocked that she had taken him for granted in the last part of their journey, and sick to her stomach over what the future might hold. Reluctantly, she shut down the computer and sat back in her desk chair with a groan.

“Is something wrong?” he asked her, nodding at the blank screen.

“You’ve been on the lower decks more than I have,” she began, ignoring his question. “How is the crew holding up?”

“They’re worried, to tell the truth, about what will happen next.”

“We all are. And the scuttlebutt?”

“They’re buzzing about a rumor. Seems there is a minimum-security holding facility being prepared for about fifty occupants. They think it might be for the Maquis.”

She nodded, rubbing her temples with her fingertips in an effort to relax. “I’m afraid it is more than a rumor. Three of my contacts at command say that the Maquis are going to be taken into protective custody.” She waited for a response, but Chakotay simply shrugged, his face inscrutable. The silence grew uncomfortable.

“What?” he finally said. “What do you want me to say?”

“Are you going to let this happen without a fight?”

He laughed, shrugging his shoulders. “How could I stop it?”

“By striking first.” She smiled and shook her head. “Don’t tell me that you’ve forgotten how to manipulate the admiralty.”

“I wasn’t born and bred to this the way you were, Kathryn.”

“You underestimate yourself.” Her face grew thoughtful. “The admiralty thinks of you as a Maquis, not as a Starfleet officer—which is what you are. So what we have to do is change their perception of you.”

“If you could just explain to them–,” he started, his eyes glowing with devotion. “If you would just tell them–.”

“That you’ve been a perfect first officer?” she finished. “That your crew has behaved in an exemplary manner? I’ll start now.”

She activated her computer and established a link with Admiral Hayes at Starfleet headquarters, beginning their talk by mentioning the rumors about the Maquis. Then, in both professional and personal terms, she described the deleterious effect such an action would have on her crew, emphasizing that Chakotay was the lynch pin to their full cooperation.

“The Maquis became part of the crew because of Captain Chakotay’s unwavering example,” she told the admiral. “It was his willingness to look past our differences, to sacrifice his ship to save Voyager, and to adhere to Starfleet protocol—no matter what that cost him personally—that brought about the spirit of family we feel today.” Kathryn glanced at Chakotay, and he was stunned to see tears in her eyes.

“If you hope to understand how Voyager’s crew survived,” she concluded, “you need to interview Voyager’s entire crew, whether they were originally Starfleet or Maquis. And if you want to learn how I endured seven years as captain, you must remember that I was only half of Voyager’s command team. I couldn’t have done it without my first officer.”

After a few moments of silence, Hayes cleared his throat and gave her a measured look. “That was certainly an impassioned speech, Captain.”

“Why, thank you,” she answered, leaning closer to the screen and propping her chin on her fist. “I’ve wondered how effective it would sound on the nightly Fednews report. What do you think?”

Hayes paled noticeably and shook his head as he reached to shut down the communication link. “You’ve convinced me, Kathryn. Your crew should remain together throughout the debriefings.”

When the Federation symbol filled the computer screen, Kathryn smiled and sat back in her chair triumphantly, glancing at her first officer with a twinkle in her eye. “Don’t pack your bags yet, Chakotay.”

He laughed out loud at her audacity, and she was nearly overwhelmed by the affection and relief she saw in his eyes.

“You amaze me, Kathryn, you know that? I can’t believe you just intimidated a full admiral without even blinking an eye.”

“Has it occurred to you,” she replied, giving him a crooked grin that went far beyond friendship, “that maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do?”

“It’s occurred to me that I don’t know you as well as I want to,” he answered with a dimpled smile, picking up on the flirtatious tone of her remark.

She slowly stood up and circled the desk. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she leaned down to bring her mouth to his ear, her hair brushing against his cheek, so close that she could feel the heat of his skin. He trembled under her hand, his breath accelerating as a vein in his neck jumped with his quickening pulse. She paused, thrilled by his reaction to her proximity and lightheaded from the electricity that sparked between them.

“All I know is this.” Her breath burned like warm whiskey as it caressed his ear. “You don’t know me as well as I want you to.”

He pulled back in surprise, trying to catch her eye, but she was already moving toward the bridge.

She gave him a smirk in passing, the smirk of a woman who has a secret, but he wasn’t about to let her get away with it.