Commander Chakotay, the newly-minted Executive Officer of the Federation Starship Voyager, regarded his reflection in the mirror with a barely-disguised scowl. He'd vowed never again to wear the uniform of the organization that had tossed his family and his homeworld to the wolves in the name of peace - a peace that never was. Yet he now once again found himself wearing a Starfleet uniform, the weight of command red unaccustomedly heavy on his shoulders.
When his reflection failed to magically reflect himself clad in his civilian attire, he sighed and walked back out into the bedroom - his bedroom. His quarters, as a matter of fact. The main point in their favor was the fact that they weren't the brig, which was where he and his crew had fully expected to be. Instead, like himself, they found themselves in uniform, Starfleet uniforms, in quarters, serving alongside the crew that had been sent to capture them.
Rather than allow his mind to wrangle with that particular irony again, Chakotay wandered aimlessly into his living room, listlessly poking about here and there. His quarters had previously been the residence of Voyager's original First Officer, Lieutenant Commander Cavit. Chakotay wasn't sure who, but someone had meticulously gone through every square millimeter of these quarters to ensure that Cavit's personal effects were packed away and removed. New bedding had thoughtfully been left at the foot of the bed, and someone had even gone to the trouble of equipping his bathroom with a Starfleet-issue shaving kit and toiletries. Chakotay surmised that they must have had such things in storage, which was convenient. The sole functioning replicator at the moment - an industrial replicator in one of the cargo bays - had provided uniforms, undergarments, boots, and rank insignia for the former Maquis, but not much else. It wasn't programmed for food production, only material goods, so they were still stuck with living off of Starfleet ration packs.
But Chakotay - and the rest of his former crew - had food, clothing, shelter, and basic necessities. That was far more than could be said for much of their stint in the Maquis. The thought made him smile slightly. They were fed and clothed, yes, but they were also stranded on the other side of the galaxy from the Federation. As the sole representatives of Starfleet and the United Federation of Planets here in the Delta Quadrant, perhaps life would not be as stifling under Delta Quadrant rules as it was in the Alpha Quadrant.
The door chime sounded, causing Chakotay to jump slightly in surprise. On the Freedom, they were happy if the doors worked. Forget about pleasant door chimes. He smiled and shrugged. "Come in."
B'Elanna Torres cautiously poked her head inside, surveying the room before stepping inside, a bundle cradled in her arms. "Hi," she offered shyly. "Am I bothering you?"
He shook his head. "No. I was just trying to get comfortable."
B'Elanna gave the room another, more thorough survey. "Nice place," she offered after a moment.
He smiled. "Yeah. I'm not quite sure what to do with all the space."
B'Elanna stepped forward and offered him the bundle she'd brought with her. "Here. This should help a little."
Chakotay raised his eyebrows questioningly, but accepted the bundle. He parted the bath towel, his heart beginning to pound in his chest as the contents were revealed. Reverently, he placed his medicine bundle and bound medicine wheel on his dining table, then glanced back up at his friend. "How...?"
B'Elanna shrugged. "Kurt was the last one off the ship before you took off to ram the Array. He ran through the bunk rooms with an old cargo container, grabbing what he could of everyone's personal effects in the minute or so he had. He only saved what he knew was irreplaceable. All of us got at least one thing back. He said your bundles were the first things he went for. He knew they were important."
B'Elanna shifted uncomfortably, noticing the unmistakable sheen in her former captain's eyes. Chakotay swallowed hard, gathering himself together. "Thank you for bringing them by," he said, his voice low and rough. "I'll find Kurt later and thank him, as well. He..." His voice broke and trailed off.
B'Elanna crossed her arms against her chest, as if to ward off the excessive emotion in the room. "You're welcome," she muttered. "Look, I have to go. I got permission to start studying the ship's schematics and stuff, and I'd like to read for a while before I turn in."
Chakotay nodded and smiled slightly. B'Elanna was always uncomfortable with displays of emotion, though she'd been improving of late. He decided to let her off the hook for the evening. "Don't stay up too late. You're on Alpha shift in the morning."
She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Dad."
He chuckled. "Get lost, Torres." He folded the towel she'd wrapped his bundles in and gave it back to her, knowing that such items were in short supply at the moment.
She stuck her tongue out at him and tossed off a mock-salute. "Yes, sir," she offered with a small grin.
When she was gone, Chakotay turned once again to his bundles, but had barely touched them when his door chime sounded again. He grinned and walked over to the door, releasing the lock manually. "I thought I told you to get lost. You're going to be scrubbing..."
His voice trailed off and he paled slightly. Instead of finding B'Elanna Torres, once again, on his doorstep, he found Captain Kathryn Janeway. "Um... I apologize, Captain. B'Elanna... Crewman Torres... was just here. I thought it was her."
Captain Janeway smiled and shook her head. "No need to apologize, Commander. Though I'm curious. What would she have been scrubbing?"
He had standing before him the woman who had tracked him down, chased him into the Badlands, been flung into the Delta Quadrant with him, and had somehow ended up with his Maquis as her crew. And she was teasing him?
Fortunately, innate charm came to his rescue. "The waste system comes to mind, Captain," he offered with a smile.
"With her toothbrush, of course."
His smile widened. "Of course." Then, remembering his manners, he stepped aside. "Would you like to come in?"
She hesitated, then shook her head. "Thank you, but I was just on my way to my quarters. I wanted to see if you were settling in all right. If you needed anything."
Her comment brought with it a startling reminder. He and the captain were neighbors. "Thanks. But I seem to have everything I need at the moment. My crew..." His voice trailed off as he caught the chiding flash in her eyes. "The Maquis... We appreciate the provisions. It was thoughtful of you. I know resources are tight right now."
She smiled the crooked smile he was growing familiar with. "Not at all, Commander. It was the least I could do. If you need anything, just let me know."
He nodded and smiled back, his dimples winking briefly. "Thank you, Captain. I hope I'll be a quiet neighbor."
She chuckled. "I'll try and be the same. No wild parties, Commander... Unless I'm invited." She stepped back a bit and nodded, still smiling. "Good night, Commander."
He absently reached up and tugged his ear. His eyes were warm with humor. "Good night, Captain. See you in the morning."
Chakotay stared at the closed doors for more than a minute, his mind racing. He'd been Janeway's first officer for less than eight hours, and already he was intrigued by his new captain. There'd been a spark of... of, well, something... the moment their eyes first met on a viewscreen. Hostility, anger, a bit of fear. And something. He hadn't expected such a formidable woman to be so warm and personable. Or to be so open to making the best of their wild situation. Or to have a sense of humor.
Or to be his next-door neighbor.
He had a feeling that serving with Kathryn Janeway would be exasperating, infuriating, wearying...
...rewarding, fulfilling, inspirational...
...special...
It was going to be an interesting voyage.
Captain Kathryn Janeway stood in her quarters, staring fixedly at the living room wall that adjoined her new first officer's quarters. She'd surprised herself with the impulse to stop by and see how he was settling in. She'd shocked herself when she'd joked with him. He'd joked back, and smiled with those devastating dimples of his. She idly wondered if he knew what lethal weapons those dimples were.
She should have thrown him and his crew into the brig. Instead, she gave them uniforms, commissions, and duty posts. The man she'd been sent to capture was now her Executive Officer and next-door neighbor. His crew was now their crew.
For whatever reason, she'd trusted him from the start. From the moment their eyes had met on the viewscreen, every fiber of her being had insisted that she could trust him with her life and the lives of her entire crew. Now she had, and rather than be filled with foreboding, she was filled with hope. They would survive and get home.
With her new first officer at her side, she knew that, somehow, things would work out. She hoped they worked well together. Perhaps someday they might even be friends.
Whatever happened, it was definitely going to be an interesting voyage.