Chapter Text
Kathryn Janeway was naked.
Only twice in her life had she woken up this way; in a room she didn’t recognise, nude, and in the arms of an unknown man.
The first time she’d been a third year cadet, newly liberated from a dysfunctional relationship. She’d gotten lonely and had thought anonymous sex would scratch her itch, but the next morning she woke next to a man who, it turned out, had little to recommend him beyond a charming smile.
The second indiscretion happened two years, two months and thirteen days after her first fiancé had died, when grinding sadness finally gave way to a deep yearning for another's touch.
That time she’d fled the unfamiliar apartment at dawn, appalled, vowing to exercise better judgement in the future.
Which she had.
For years .
So, 'surprised' hardly covered her reaction to finding herself, during the seventh year of Voyager’s quest for home, in a strange bed, stark naked, and most definitely not alone.
A warm body spooned close behind her: a broad arm draped across her ribs, a large hand latched around her belly, and, unmistakably, an erection pressed into her lower back. She judged her companion to be sound asleep, although her lack of recent experience in sharing a bed hardly made her an expert on male sleeping habits.
Her brain churned possibilities. Two sets of clothes scattered merrily across the bedroom floor weighed against the possibility she’d been the victim of coercion. She wasn’t hungover, so, not an alcohol-fuelled encounter then. In fact, all things considered, she felt pretty snug and relaxed. Quite cosy, if she was honest.
She could have easily closed her eyes and drifted away.
No.
Tempting as snuggling up might be, she needed to slide out of bed, get into some clothes, and salvage a little dignity.
Naturally, at that exact moment the warm body behind her moved.
Too late for evasive maneuvers now.
Was he a member of her crew? A stranger? Which would be worse? Look on the bright side. After a few moments of crippling embarrassment, at least you’ll get some answers.
Her companion stirred further, and then their predicament must have dawned on him, too.
“Kathryn?” came a familiar voice. “What the hell is going on?”
Her heart flipped. Chakotay .
She didn’t know whether to be relieved, mortified, or a tiny bit turned on. Was it possible to feel all those things at once?
Sitting up, she clutched the sheets to her chest. “At ease, Commander. I don’t know any more than you do. I’m sure there’s a perfectly rational explanation.”
Chakotay cast a baffled glance across the floor, eyes settling in turns on her bra, his shorts and a pair of lace panties. He looked up, deadpan. “How do you feel about the most obvious one?”
She flushed. “Let’s not...jump to conclusions. What’s the last thing you remember?”
“We were on the bridge. I think,” he said, frowning.
“That’s my last memory too. Nothing seemed amiss.” They lapsed into silence. To delay the prospect of meeting his eyes, Kathryn focused on the light spilling through the curtains and the dust dancing in the air above the bed. Finally she offered, “Doesn't feel like we're on a ship."
More silence. She risked a glance in Chakotay's direction. Her first officer sat clutching the sheets, his face as red as a Talaxian tomato.
He cleared his throat. “I'm just going to... um, go to the bathroom.” He dived out of bed, but his dash across the bedroom floor was broken by a stubbed toe. "Damn, damn it!"
Of course her eyes jerked in his direction. She was treated to the sight of his muscular bare back, leading down to trim, strong buttocks…as he hopped the rest of the way to the bathroom. She gave her head a vigorous shake. She should definitely stop looking and get moving before this situation got any more complicated. She dragged her eyes away.
Seconds later Kathryn was racing about the bedroom, scooping clothes from the floor. She lobbed a pair of way-too-skimpy black lace panties onto the bed. What had she been thinking?
Growing crosser by the minute, she yanked open each drawer in the chest by the bed. She found, thankfully, sensible, workaday items: three bras and multiple pairs of panties. She pulled on a set of underwear and turned to the wardrobe. Pants, summer dresses, t-shirts, shorts, strappy tops. A dark black suit and an elegant evening dress. All unfamiliar, but the sizes looked right. Easily enough clothes for a couple of weeks. She frowned. How long had she and Chakotay been here? And where was here? Questions buzzed around her brain.
Kathryn flung on a pair of shorts and a top and then prowelled the room. No communicator, no tricorder, so no chance of hailing Voyager... or scanning herself for biological traces of sex. She sighed. She had just woken up naked in Chakotay's arms. What other conclusion was she supposed to draw?
She shook her head. Whether or not she and Chakotay had been intimate last night was hardly the most pressing issue right now.
Where was Voyager ?
***
In the bathroom, Chakotay snatched a white towel and tied it tight about his waist.
“Damn. Damn it!” What a way to start the day, waking up next to Kathryn with an embarrassingly robust erection. She'd obviously been aware of his aroused state; how could she not, with his manhood shoved into her back? At least she’d afforded him the dignity of not commenting on it.
He splashed cold water on his face, but that didn’t help. His head thundered with questions, and frankly, he didn’t know what to feel. Worried that they had no memory of how they got here? Disturbed that he and Kathryn had, apparently, slept together? And, the more pertinent question: what the hell happened to Voyager ?
He plonked himself on the closed ‘fresher and put his head in his hands.
When his erection finally subsided, he sighed, lifted the seat, ready to pee.
There was a note stuck on the underside of the lid. He blinked at it, hardly able to process the message. He put the note down in favour of emptying his bladder, half hoping when he picked it up again it would say something different.
He'd barely finished washing his hands when Kathryn knocked on the bathroom door. “Chakotay? I’m dressed. Do you want to come out?”
He opened the door. She wore shorts and a blue sun top dotted with small orange flowers that left her arms and shoulders bare. It was so far from anything he’d seen her wear, well ever, that he blinked in surprise before he regained his wits.
He beckoned her inside and waved the note. “I just found this.”
“That’s my handwriting.” Kathryn frowned, and then read aloud, “Voyager impounded. You are posing as newly-wed couple Kathy and Charlie Kotay. Be careful what you say. They are watching. Bathroom best place for conversations .” She lowered her voice and leaned in towards him. “What the hell does that mean?”
“I have no idea.” She stood dangerously close, considering he was wrapped in a towel and had only just gotten his body to calm down. He raised his hand and gave his ear a nervous tug. In the mirror, the reflection of the inside of his lower arm flashed, revealing a row unfamiliar black markings. It looked almost like a tattoo.
Kathryn saw it, too. Four short straight black lines with one struck diagonally across the others, like old fashioned tally marks. “What’s this?” Then, her brow knitted, she turned her own wrist over. Sure enough, she wore an identical set.
Their arms rested side by side, skin against skin. Her eyes skated along his arm, across his bare chest, and met his gaze, as if she was finally confronting the line they’d stopped short of for so many years. Her jaw slackened. The moment coiled in on itself, circling back to the way they’d woken up, tangled in each other.
His pulse spiked. “Can you really not remember anything, Kathryn?” he whispered, hoping that she knew more than she’d let on.
Kathryn wore the look of a scrub cat his sister had rescued from a hunters trap back on Dorvan. Despite their father's warning she’d never tame it and shouldn’t try, nine-year old Sekaya named the cat Chaska—star goddess—and nursed her until her matted silver-grey coat shone and her dull eyes were bright. Over and over, Chaska’s rhythmic purr seduced Sekaya into believing their fighting days were over, and then another livid scratch would appear on his sister’s hands or arms. It turned out, loving Chaska was never enough to win her wild heart; the moment she was healed, she fled. Sekaya declared herself glad the cat had returned to her roaming life, but that night Chakotay caught his sister crying.
That same expression, the cornered cat, flitted across Kathryn’s features now. She stepped back and pointed towards the bedroom. “There are clothes in the drawer and wardrobe,” she said sharply, “I’ll use the bathroom while you dress.”
As the door clicked closed behind him, he let loose a low rumble of frustration. Finding their crew would no doubt be fraught with danger, but they had a track record of solving the impossible. This personal entanglement was new territory. If he didn't tread carefully he’d end up with worse than a scratch.
No more wearing his heart on his sleeve.
He tugged on a pair of light tan shorts and a t-shirt, and after that looked around properly for the first time. Kathryn had scooped up the scattered clothes from the tiled floor and folded them neatly in two separate piles near the pillows.
Chakotay padded around the bed and pulled back the curtains. The bright sunlight almost dazzled him. Squinting and raising a hand to shield his eyes, he saw the sturdy trunk of a tall palm, it’s lime-green tipped fronds tickling the azure sky, and shrubbery-lined pathways winding into lush gardens. So he and the captain had somehow ended up sharing a room, and a bed, in the Delta Quandrant's answer to Risa? There had to be a lot more to this story.
He strode out of the bedroom, determined to find out.
The living area was pleasant but unremarkable; a couple of chairs, a small table, the facilities to make whatever passed for coffee around here. He boiled the kettle, but had the feeling it was going to take a lot more than coffee to untangle this mess. Of course, they had been forced to spend nights in close proximity before. Down on that planet in the Hanon system where Maje Culluh had left them stranded. Before that on New Earth, where he’d spent sweat-soaked nights the other side of the thin barrier between their beds, praying that he hadn’t called her name on waking from yet another torrid dream.
More recently, they’d been locked together for several days in a small cell with a stone floor and one creaky, uncomfortable bed. It was ridiculous for him to sleep on the floor, she’d said, and each night of their captivity they’d crammed in close together. Come to think of it, they’d woken up with limbs entwined back then, but they had definitely remained fully clothed. He hadn't been able to get that incident off his mind for weeks.
This time he'd really spent the night with her, but couldn’t remember a damn about it.
The universe must absolutely hate him.
He sighed and tried to focus on the top priorities: Kathryn’s coffee and figuring out how to get back to Voyager .
On the counter was a bottle with a note alongside it, written in his own hand: “ Make sure Kathryn uses this.” He unscrewed the cap and took an experimental sniff before pouring a blob of creamy lotion onto his hand. Sun screen, he guessed from the faintly medicated smell. An away mission to a climate like this would routinely include a solar damage prevention agent in the transporter filter. But who knew what had happened when they arrived here?
The next jar he picked up was labelled in Kathryn’s hand as ‘the good stuff '. Inside was another note.
Meet Zandren in the Bohomie Bar, 13:00 hrs. Remember to relax, blend in. Don’t get caught. Don’t leave this note lying around. Remember, crew in danger of execution!
There was a small hieroglyph next to the name of the bar, but no other explanations.
Kathryn emerged from the bedroom. “I’ve found swimwear and a few summer clothes. Nothing I recognise as mine, but I’d say it all fits. And look at this.”
She handed him a photo frame.
Then she seemed to notice his ashen expression. “What?”
He glanced from the note to the photo frame. The pictures scrolled through several shots of him and Kathryn: laughing, arm in arm, dressed brightly. In one, he stood with his arm draped around her shoulder and hers snaked around his waist, in front of a sign animated with the words ‘Welcome to Paradise Falls.” They were both smiling.
“Paradise Falls indeed,” Kathryn muttered, glaring at the couple in the pictures as if she’d taken an instant dislike to them. Then she shot the real Chakotay an accusatory look, and rasped, “I don’t remember any of this, do you?”
“Afraid not,” he said defensively. He held up the note and pointed inside the open coffee jar.
Kathryn almost smiled. As she read the note, though, her face fell and the frown returned deeper than ever. She flicked on the taps in the kitchenette, and then whispered into his ear, “What’s happened to our crew? Why can’t we remember?”
Her breath heated his cheek. “I don’t know," he whispered. Her hand was on his chest, a gesture she used often enough, to reassure, or soften a tough order. Now it sent a shudder through him.
She looked at him, wide eyed, and then took an abrupt step back. “I’ll make the coffee.”
Chakotay chewed his bottom lip. This place was obviously designed to torture him.
***
After gulping a hot drink, Kathryn retreated to the bedroom. Anger and fear gnawed the pit of her stomach. Execute her crew? Why? She stared again at the strange note in her hand. None of this made an iota of sense. Who the hell was watching them?
Tension that had begun in her gut spread up through her whole body and settled in a tight knot in her forehead. She plunked herself on the edge of the bed, disoriented, as a purple haze nibbled at the edges of her vision.
She could still see Chakotay through the open door, at the sink, blurrily rinsing their coffee cups, but at the same time he was beside her, palm pressed to her shoulder. How? The room faded through inky purple to sheer, empty black.
He moves her hair aside, kisses her bare shoulder, once, twice, and lets his hand drift to her hip. She senses alcohol, as if she’s just finished her third glass of Antarian cider. Is this a memory? Fantasy? An alternative reality crossing into theirs?
Impressions chase one after another: his lips, hands, on her breasts, belly, and lower. His bare chest close to hers. They are kissing, long and hard, falling together, tangled in one another. Her breath snatches. Images kaleidoscope, her vision shatters, her head crackles. She raises a hand to her temple, and gasps, “Chakotay.”
“Yes?”
He stood in front of her, leaning in with a slight frown. “Kathryn? Are you alright? Kathryn?”
“Oh,” she managed, as her vision cleared. The room was bright. There was no alcohol. Chakotay wasn’t kissing her neck.
He put a hand to her forehead. “You’re awfully hot.”
“I felt a little faint for a moment. I’m alright now.” She made an effort to breathe normally and focus on the room around her.
Chakotay perched on the bed. “Are you sure? Paradise Falls must have a medical facility. I could—”
Kathryn shook her head. “No, I’m fine. I just…” The impression of that kiss made avoid his curious gaze.
Her head span. Here they were, apparently posing as lovers in some elaborate plot, their memories full of holes. How deep did this deception go? She might have lost her memory, but she hadn’t lost her mind. She wouldn’t have slept with her first officer simply to prove a point! This morning’s predicament must have been part of their cover.
But if that was the case, what had just swept through her like a tidal wave? Had those events ever happened? What was real and what was not?
It didn’t matter. Her crew needed her. She squinted at Chakotay, patting his knee briefly.
He gave an awkward kind of nod, as if he had no idea how to navigate the strangeness between them. He quickly got up. “Let’s get out in the sunshine,” he said, and strode towards the door.
***
Chakotay’s knee blazed where Kathryn had touched him, and his belly fluttered. So much for playing cool. He opened the front door, feigning interest in the access and security mechanisms. A small panel sat to the left of the door, probably a biometric interface. Experimentally, he placed his hand against it. The screen lit up with the words “Welcome back, Charlie.”
Kathryn joined him, her face still an unsettling shade of red.
“We don’t want to be locked out later,” he mumbled, avoiding her sharp gaze. She pressed her hand to the panel. It greeted her with a jaunty, “Welcome back, Kathy,”
“Let’s go,” she commanded. That was fine with him. He preferred the all-business Janeway right now. At least he knew where he stood with the captain.
Their accommodation was in a row of small bungalows, with steps rising from a stone-set pathway up to their door. To the left and right were more of the same glass fronted rooms, most with privacy curtains still closed. They had chosen well, away from the hustle of the resort. Nice enough place for a holiday, but this was no restful shore leave. His shoulders felt tight with tension, and a knot in Kathryn’s brow telegraphed her concern.
After a short walk along the pathway they reached a stretch of beach where a turquoise ocean kissed silver sands. The air was warm, the sky a glorious, cloudless blue. It reminded him a little of New Earth, minus the beach, of course. There, without the burden of command, they had slipped into a different relationship, sharing their plans over breakfast and recounting their days over dinner. The outdoors lifestyle had added colour to Kathryn in more ways than one. Her complexion had deepened from a pale rose tint and her freckles became more pronounced, and as the days grew into weeks, her whole demeanor shifted, until she was talking about camping and bathing in the river with an impish sparkle in her eyes. If they’d just had a few more days…
No. There was little point revisiting that old wound. They’d made their choice. Duty first. And judging by Kathryn’s response this morning, nothing had changed. Whatever went on last night, well, that was an aberration they’d have to come to terms with. It should be easy to put something they couldn’t even remember behind them. Shouldn’t it?
They walked on towards a pool and a glass-fronted building that seemed to be a dining hall, where men and women in grey and purple uniforms were serving breakfast. Chakotay’s stomach rumbled. How often did Kathryn stop to eat breakfast these days?
He was so lost in thought, he almost didn’t notice a young woman in a flowery dress strolling along the beach towards them. The woman had long, tubular tendrils in place of hair, pulled back into a neat ponytail, and her nose was flatter than a human’s. Chakotay didn’t recognise her species.
“Good morning Kathy, Charlie,” she said, smiling. “Quite a night last night, eh?”
“Was it?” Kathryn said, and Chakotay realised she had been absorbed in thinking, too. The young woman frowned.
Gathering his wits, Chakotay gave a broad grin. “We certainly won’t forget it in a hurry.” Kathryn turned and stared. “Will we, love?” He nudged her gently with his shoulder.
Kathryn caught on. “Yes, yes. Quite a night.”
Apparently satisfied, the woman smiled and nodded back towards the building she’d just left. “Breakfast was lovely again this morning. Look, I’ve got to dash. Phrell is waiting for me. But maybe we’ll see you at the rock pools?”
“That would be lovely,” Kathryn said to the woman’s disappearing form, as her purple tipped tendrils bounced against her back. Kathryn turned to Chakotay. “I wonder what that was all about?”
“Can’t wait to find out,” Chakotay said dryly. “Looks like breakfast in that building. I don’t know about you, but I hate a mystery on an empty stomach. Coming?”
Kathryn shrugged, and they made their way through the glass fronted doors into the food hall.
Tempting smells wafted from exotic foodstuffs on trays and platters, and although it looked like the first flush of guests had eaten their fill and left, plenty of dishes remained. The remaining diners were a mixed bunch. Probably at least half were of the same origin as the staff members and their young acquaintance from earlier, but several other unknown races were scattered around. That disturbed him. How far off their path home had they strayed? Just how long had they been away from Voyager?
Kathryn squinted at the food in just the same way she’d looked at the picture. Apparently annoyed and suspicious was her default mode this morning. He ignored her scowl and loaded a plate with what looked like eggs and some bright green vegetables that might have been mushrooms. Then he chose a table in the corner of the dining hall. Kathryn took an inordinate amount of time to select coffee and a small bowl of fruit, and eventually sat down in front of him. They began to eat in silence.
How to break the ice slowly forming between them? Should he comment on the beautiful beach? Speculate about where Voyager was, or on the mysterious Zandren? Perhaps he should use Kathryn's rank to demonstrate that as far as he was concerned, they remained on a professional footing, no matter what had happened last night. Would that thaw her chilly mood? He definitely wouldn’t broach the incendiary topic of the way they’d woken up together. Not ever.
Kathryn sighed and, with her fruit barely touched, put down her spoon. She stared him straight in the eye. “So, do you think we had sex last night?”
Chakotay almost spat out his tea. “I don’t know,” he spluttered, before he found the wit to crack back with, “Do you think we did?”
“I suspect…” Kathryn pursed her lips for a moment, before she went on, “whatever did or didn’t happen last night was part of this subterfuge.”
Chakotay plonked his cup down so hard tea slopped over the side. “Look, Kathryn, I don’t think we’d go that far for anyone else's benefit. Isn’t it more likely we just…” His throat tightened. The silence felt like a cliff-edge. He took a breath and continued, “perhaps we wanted to sleep together.”
Kathryn narrowed her eyes. “You’re suggesting we found ourselves here on this paradise planet and ignored our responsibilities?” He opened his mouth to speak, but she raised her hand. “I’d say we should forget what happened, but it seems we already have. Perhaps that’s a blessing.”
“That’s how you want to deal with this? Pretend nothing happened?” Chakotay snapped, not even trying to hide his chagrin. She had a point, but honestly, how could she just brush this off?
“We don’t know what happened,” she retorted, with the look of the cornered cat again. “What happened last night isn’t the most important thing here. Getting back to Voyager is. We just have to be convincing enough to make sure we’re not caught.”
Chakotay folded his arms. Alright. If that’s the way she wanted to play it, he could fake it with the best of them.