His hoarse cry might have been her name, or simply an exclamation of the agony and ecstasy of relief as the final thrust of their bodies brought him roaring to a climax. Her body still buzzing from her own release she leaned forward and kissed him hard, her hair falling around their faces, their hands still clasped palm to palm, fingers entwined. For blissful moments they were lost in each other, hearts thundering, sticky and sweaty from lovemaking. Finally he groaned and she shifted her hips so he could slip out of her in a gush of mingled fluids. She slid down his body to lie beside him, legs tangled together as their breathing slowed to a less frantic pace.

‘Are you trying to kill me?’ he asked as she pressed a kiss to his chest, her tongue creeping out to slide over his skin, tasting the salt of his sweat as he shivered in response.

‘Seven years is a long time to go without very much sex.’ Kathryn Janeway raised her head slightly and looked at the man who had been her first officer, had just become her lover and she hoped, would always be her friend. Her expression became wistful – perhaps slightly apologetic, ‘I suppose you could say I’m making up for lost time.’ She was relieved at his snort of laughter and captivated by the possessive and skilful hands that slipped up and down her back. This time it was she that shivered.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t meant this to happen, it was more that she hadn’t expected her success to be quite so immediate. On discovering that he and Seven had ended their tentative relationship she had determined that this time she was not going to sacrifice what or who she wanted for Starfleet. Her intention had merely been to throw herself in his path, to perhaps remind them both of the connection, the chemistry they once seemed to have.

It had taken a little manoeuvring on her part to ensure they were both invited to the same select gathering. But after all, what was they use of their newly found celebrity status if it couldn’t be exploited in a good cause now and then?

She’d been serious enough to pull a few strings to get them both there and also to let her sister recommend a very good designer, from whom she had purchased a dark blue dress that was more alluring than anything she had worn for some time.

And maybe the glass of wine she’d drunk before leaving had helped. Certainly, knowing finally what she wanted had been a liberating experience and perhaps it was that freedom that Chakotay had seen in her and suddenly found compelling.

For most of the night they had watched each other from across the room, indulging in delicious snippets of conversation, conscious of how easily they could be, and were, interrupted; revelling in the tantalising glimpses of where the conversation could go, if they were alone for long enough to pursue it.

After so long of having to repress what she wanted it was, refreshing to find that she could be clear and honest. Better still, and more than she had dared to hope for, was the enthusiasm and joy with which he had responded to her. It wasn’t that what had gone before, the years of distance and pain, could not be forgotten, but they could, perhaps, be forgiven and a new start made.

Their first kiss had been stolen in the hallway. She’d slipped away to take a call from her aide and on her way back he’d intercepted her; kissing her breathless where anyone could have seen them. It was giddying to think how easily they could have been discovered but her stomach had turned over at the expression in his eyes – beneath passion lurked deeper emotions. She could have this, if was finally, so easy.

They had left, without saying their goodbyes, stumbling out into the San Francisco night, holding each other close, stealing kisses and touches without regard to their surroundings. She was staying with her mother and he in temporary quarters in Starfleet’s main complex, either destination was quite impossible. So they had ended up at the sparkling glass and steel tower of San Francisco’s newest and grandest hotel.

She hated to think what the reception staff had thought of them arriving, in evening dress, with no luggage and obviously unable to keep their hands off each other. Certainly the time it had taken to secure the room had seemed tortuously long. But they had made up for it.

His hands had been on her as she struggled to push the door shut behind them and she’d been scarcely less urgent. Their clothes has been peeled off during their chaotic progress to the bedroom and their bodies had claimed one another as though the substantial barriers that had separated them for so many years had meant nothing.

Chakotay rolled over, wrapping his arms around her and nuzzling his lips against her shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, but I am going to be asleep in about thirty seconds,’ he murmured. She smiled, hardly surprised by his lethargy – they had just spent a very energetic and intense couple of hours. She didn’t mind, after so many years spent sleeping alone the feel of his warm body wrapped around her was a luxury she could very easily get used to. ‘I love you,’ he whispered drowsily.

Tears pricked in her eyes, heart suddenly in her throat she managed to whisper back, ‘I love you too.’

Always the lightest of sleepers some hours later she started awake, momentarily disoriented by the strange surroundings. Chakotay was still asleep, lying on his stomach, face buried in the pillow – she had just started to think about how she was going to wake him up when she heard the sound. It must have been what had woken her in the first place – and it sounded as though someone was knocking on the door of the suite. She thought about ignoring the sound, but years of training held good and reluctantly she crawled from under the covers.

She caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror as she reached for a robe and couldn’t help but take a good second look at her reflection. Who was the woman looking back at her, tousled, relaxed, with her lips curling upwards to give the impression that at any moment they might fall easily into a smile? The correct and proper Starfleet Admiral was still there but she seemed to be sharing space peaceably with someone who had been subjugated for a long time. And they both looked as though they had been thoroughly ravished.

Another tap at the door interrupted her musings and she checked the vid panel by the door to see just who needed to see her with such urgency.

‘Admiral Janeway?’

‘Yes?’ Guarded now, she pulled the robe more tightly closed, wondering where her communicator was. If it was Starfleet business surely she would have been contacted in that way?

‘I’m Claude du Rhiel – I manage the hotel.’ She nodded, not sure what her response to this was supposed to be and refrained from pointing out that she had been busy enjoying his fine hotel before he had disturbed her. ‘I’m afraid there’s something you need to see.’ She opened the door and without further comment he handed her a data padd. Still mystified she activated it and the images and words blurred before her eyes.

Shit.

It was a good holo-image she noted half distractedly, you could tell that both she and Chakotay were happy and well, involved, in what they were doing. His hand was resting on her hip, her arms around his neck as she stretched into his kiss. She wasn’t entirely sure where they were at the time, although they were clearly outdoors. And there was no doubt as to the when. Further images saw them walking hand in hand, heads together, talking. Oh God, there was a shot of her with her hand on his heart, looking at him so there was no doubt how she felt about him.

‘I’m very sorry.’ Claude du Rhiel whispered.

‘Why? Did you take the holo-images? Tell the press we were here?’

‘No, but they do know. They must have followed you. They’re outside.’ Of course they were. How could they not be? ‘And there have been some communications from Starfleet.’ Well, that made everything just peachy. Had they both lost their communicators? Or were they so much in disgrace that they were no longer worthy of direct communication? Another padd was produced, this one clearly bearing the Starfleet insignia. She tapped it cautiously and scanned the brief message from the head of the press corps. She got the distinct impression she had blotted her copybook in a big way.

‘Is there anything else?’

‘I don’t believe so. Except to say that the hotel has state of the art security. No one can beam in, or out. There have been a couple of attempts by reporters to get into the hotel, but we’ve intercepted them. We take the security of our guests very seriously.’

‘Thank you.’ Well it was something she supposed. Perhaps she and Chakotay could simply spend a couple of months ensconced in this suite. Eventually the press would lose interest and find someone else to pursue. Somehow she didn’t think Starfleet would think that a viable option.

‘Well, if that’s all…?’ Claude du Rhiel, manager of a prestigious hotel in a very desirable location, was above all a man who could take a hint. He was also smart enough to know that while not all publicity was good publicity having the press catch Starfleet’s blue eyed girl up to no good with her former First Officer in his hotel was the type of exposure money could not buy. His smile, in consequence, was almost benevolent.

‘If there’s anything the hotel can do for you Admiral, please don’t hesitate to ask.’

As the hotel door slid shut on his departure Kathryn resisted the urge to bang her head against it until she lost consciousness. Instead she padded back towards the bedroom in the fervent hope that this was a very bad dream.

It wasn’t. Chakotay was sprawled across the bed, still fast asleep. He had taken the opportunity of her absence to spread into the space she’d been occupying and had gathered to him most of the bedclothes. He looked as though he didn’t have a care in the world – it was almost a shame to wake him.

Slipping out of the robe she crawled back into bed, fitting herself around his body and pressing a kiss to his chest. He stirred at the caress and she and she brushed her lips against his chin, his eyelids and across his brow until her moaned and without opening his eyes pulled her lips down to his. Distracted for a moment she let herself respond until she remembered why she had woken him and withdrew.

‘I think there’s something we need to talk about.’ Immediately his expression became guarded and she rolled her eyes at her insensitivity and his immediate assumption. ‘Not that, I promise.’ She grabbed the padd from where she’d left it on the bedside table and thrust it into his grasp. ‘This.’

Watching his face she could see the emotions he experienced, chasing themselves across his features came shock, panic and finally amusement. ‘Oops,’ was his comment, which she didn’t think said much for his take on the gravity of their situation.

‘Don’t oops me mister, this is serious. Apparently there are hoards of press besieging the hotel, Starfleet has been in touch with them, not us, which means we are on our own with,’ she gestured to the other padd, ‘a memo from the press corps to help.’

‘What does the memo say?’

‘Don’t say anything, to anyone and don’t hit any members of the press, no matter what the provocation.’

‘Useful,’ he commented before gathering her into his arms. ‘Kathryn, I know this isn’t ideal, I know Starfleet will be displeased and your family would have preferred to hear it from you first. Our friends will probably be amused at our expense and our enemies gloat – but its not life and death; its not the Borg or anything as frightening as that. We’ve survived far worse, we can handle this.’ At his words she felt some of the tension fade away. He was right, of course, which was irritating.

‘So, what do you suggest oh wise one?’

‘Don’t be a brat, it doesn’t suit you. I suggest that we worry about this later. Lets go back to bed for a while and then have a very large breakfast and think about what to do. There’s no need to deal with the situation now.’

‘But...!’

‘Don’t.’ His finger on her lip quelled her instinctive need to dispute his analysis. ‘Seriously Kathryn, what difference will a few hours make? This isn’t the Delta Quadrant, we aren’t out here alone.’ He was right – again, which was insufferable of him. But it was hard to remain irritated when his hands were rubbing her shoulders, easing away knots of tension. ‘You really are going to have to let me show you how to relax.’

‘OK.’ If he was surprised by her ready acquiescence he gave no sign of it – just carried on with his massage. ‘It’s a pity neither of us thought to put enter a bet in Tom’s pool – we’d have enough credits to disappear somewhere very exotic until this all blows over. What?’ His massage stopped, briefly before resuming.

‘Nothing. Just thinking about all the wonderful places we could go to.’

‘Had we but world enough and time?’

‘Something like that. I promise it will be all right Kathryn.’

‘You can’t promise…’

‘I can,’ he turned her face to his and kissed her, very slowly, ‘I can.’

This time when she awoke she was alone – but she gathered Chakotay hadn’t gone far by the mug of coffee at her bedside and the sound of him singing in the shower. It seemed inevitable that she should join him – after she’d drunk the coffee.

Later, after a lengthy shower and having utilised the bathroom in a series of inventive manoeuvres that had more to do with passion than cleanliness, they indulged themselves in a sinfully luxuriant breakfast and replicated fresh clothing. After all, emerging into the blaze of publicity demanded a specific look of relaxed chic at the very least.

As they stood together in the hotel reception, still shielded by its impressive security Kathryn couldn’t help but wonder of ‘relaxed chic’ was going to cut it. She had agreed with Chakotay that they needed to appear together and give the press something – but she was concerned about how they were going to draw the line between something and everything and reluctant to expose them any further to the Starfleet’s wrath. More to the point she was wondering how they were going to get away – and where they were planning to go, was this the moment to appear at her office as though nothing was happening?

On being faced with these issues Chakotay’s response had been to announce that he had a plan, but that he wasn’t going to share it with her, yet. No amount of wheedling, persuasion – or threatening had been able to shift him on that point.

‘So, what’s it going to be?’ He murmured softly into her ear, forcing her to briefly consider asking the hotel if they could have the suite back. ‘Do we go out there as a couple, or as two people who just happen to have spent the night together and are now filled with regrets?’

‘Setting traps for me Chakotay?’

‘Perhaps.’ He had the grace to look a little ashamed of himself, ‘but in the cold light of day its hard not to question whether this is real. If we hadn’t been caught you might have had second thoughts.’ Well, all right, it was a point of view and there was no doubt that he had the right to be uncertain of her. She wasn’t sure if spelling things out would help or make things worse.

‘Chakotay – if you and Seven had not been involved when we returned I like to think this would have happened months ago.’ He bent his head and pressed a kiss to her forehead,

‘All right, I get the message. I’m sorry.’

‘So am I.’ She straightened herself up, squared her shoulders and grasped his hand firmly in her own. ‘Shall we get this over with?’

The press reaction was immediate the moment they emerged from the hotel; there was a desperate scramble for position and volleys of shouted questions. They stood close together, holding hands and ignored requests for a kiss. In response to a question of what Starfleet thought about their relationship Kathryn found herself replying with exactness that she hadn’t spoken to anyone at Starfleet about her private life but they would no doubt be issuing a statement shortly. She added, ‘but as we aren’t serving together I don’t anticipate any problems.’ She felt, rather than saw Chakotay smother a smile at her broadside to Starfleet. If they knew what was good for them they’d take her hint and issue a statement along the lines she’d just suggested.

A few more minutes and Chakotay announced, ‘its time to go.’ As she started to ask him just how he was planning to effect this departure he tapped his comm badge and said quietly, ‘Chakotay to Flyer, two to beam up.’

Rematerialising on the command deck Kathryn couldn’t decide who she wanted to slap the most, Chakotay who was looking far too pleased with himself, or her former helmsman who was lolling in his chair and grinning broadly.

‘Starfleet’s going mad,’ Paris informed them, with something approaching glee. ‘When I told Dad that Chakotay had asked for a rescue mission he said I should tell you to disappear for a couple of days.’

‘This was your plan?’ She asked Chakotay, ‘Paris and the Flyer? Have you lost your mind?’

‘Actually you gave me the idea when you mentioned Tom and his betting pool. I thought that this was an activity uniquely suited to him – and then contacted him while you were still asleep. He’s going to drop us off in Indiana, I spoke to your mother as well – she’s cooking lunch.’

‘Shit,’ Kathryn dropped into a seat and buried her head in her hands ‘you know that means the whole extended Janeway clan plus neighbours – don’t you?’

‘I thought it was best to get it over with. Because then I was planning on taking you somewhere very expensive, very discreet and lavishing you with seven years worth of attention for the next week or so. No press, no communicators, no Starfleet and above all no Voyager.’

Her eyes swam and just for a moment it was hard to breathe as she took in what he was saying. Theirs was an uncertain life – they could spend months apart from now on and life in the Alpha Quadrant might yet defeat them. Being together would never be uncomplicated, the timing would never be perfect and there would always be other demands on their attention. But it was up to them to make all they could out of what they had and what they felt for each other. And she could do that.

Without shifting her gaze from Chakotay she said quietly, but in a tone that brooked no opposition, ‘Mr Paris, drop us off in Indiana and then run home and tell Starfleet we’ll be back in a week..’

The End